Chapter 5 #2
They joked about the boys versus girls in court, as they frequently were on opposite sides of high-profile cases, but they strove to leave the animosity in court, as they were determined to stay close outside of work.
On the way home, he hung a left on Lookout Mountain Avenue, passing the house his maternal grandmother had once rented, back when she’d made music with the likes of 1960s and 1970s luminaries Joni Mitchell, David Crosby and Stephen Stills, among many others.
In fact, Joni had been her neighbor. Freida Lewis had been a legend in her own right as a successful singer/songwriter who’d inspired her grandchildren’s appreciation for classic rock, folk and the other sounds that’d come from the incredible era in which Laurel Canyon had been at the center of the LA musical universe.
He was driving his first-generation black 1971 Porsche 911, which was among his most-prized possessions, even if it became more of a money pit with every passing year. Thankfully, the band had someone to manage their equipment, or the bass would’ve been hanging out the window on his way home.
Driving the old car brought him joy, especially as he downshifted to navigate the twisting turns of Laurel Canyon, his ears popping as they always did when he went higher into the hills.
His brothers liked to say he’d bought a house up there so he’d never have to invite them over, as parking was at a premium on the narrow roads.
When it had come time to buy his own home, Julian hadn’t looked anywhere other than the neighborhood his grandmother had helped to make famous with her illustrious friends back in the day.
He pulled up to his two-story contemporary-style home on Sunset Plaza Drive.
The exterior was dark gray brick with wood accents and a light blue smoked-glass garage door.
He pressed the button to open the double-sized door and parked next to the matte black Mercedes G-Wagon SUV he used when he needed to go farther than Sunset for a gig.
He was under no illusions about the Porsche and believed her days were probably numbered, so he drove her as often as he could.
Inside the house he’d owned for seven years, Julian disarmed the security system and flipped on the lights in the kitchen he’d fully renovated over two years of weekends with light wood cabinets, a tile backsplash in several shades of blue, matching stone countertops and stainless-steel appliances.
He went to the fridge, grabbed a beer, turned on the teardrop lights over the island and sat on a barstool to check his email and messages to wrap up one workday before the next one began.
He had a text from Rachel McDavid: Bryan showed up at the boys’ school trying to sign them out, but thankfully, the admin is aware of the situation, knows he’s not authorized and refused him. Is this something that needs to be reported to the Court?
Julian sighed as he typed his response. Absolutely. I’ll take care of that right away. Where are you now?
Staying with a cousin in Sherman Oaks until I figure out a plan.
Bryan doesn’t know her, so he wouldn’t think to look for us here.
The boys are upset because I told them they can’t go back to their school, but of course I can’t tell them why, because then they’ll hate him, and I swore I’d never make them hate him…
That’s turning out to be harder than expected.
Instead, they’ll hate me for things I didn’t cause.
I can’t even think about what might’ve happened if he’d succeeded in getting them from the school.
Is he angry enough at me to harm them? I’d like to think not, but I’m not sure anymore.
I’ll reach out to the Court and Bryan’s attorney as well to remind him that his client is under a restraining order and showing up to his sons’ school is a violation of that. The judge may consider contempt charges, which are criminal misdemeanors.
Thank you for all your help. I can’t believe it’s come to this, but here we are.
If Julian had a dollar for every time a client had expressed that same sentiment, he could retire early.
A romantic partner becoming a threat came as a shock to those who’d put their trust in them.
The threat could be physical, emotional, financial or all of the above, and it came from the person who was supposed to keep them safe.
Hang in there, he replied to Rachel. We’ll keep pushing until he gets the message.
She gave his text a thumbs-up.
He sent urgent messages to the Court and to Thomas Driscoll, Bryan’s attorney, letting them know of the incident at the McDavid sons’ school.
Then he listened to a voicemail from Marlon Beckett. “Returning your call. Happy to talk about a settlement with Cresley whenever you’re available.”
Funny how Julian hadn’t mentioned anything about a settlement when he’d first reached out. He’d call Beckett in the morning to see what he had to say, and then he’d figure out how to make him go away and leave Cresley and their son alone.
He also had a message from Jenna Simsbury thanking him for the “gangsta move” that’d resulted in her husband agreeing to her request for full custody of their three children rather than having his financial misdeeds entered into the public record at trial.
This had occurred after months of her husband refusing to consider mediation.
Once again, Carson and his investigative team had come up with exactly what Julian had needed to push the case to a satisfactory conclusion for their client.
Michael Simsbury would have visitation with the children and would pay hefty child and spousal support while also taking full responsibility for the massive debt he’d accrued in both their names.
Julian was pleased with the outcome for a client who’d seen her immaculate credit destroyed by her ex-husband.
Additional court action was underway that would hopefully restore her credit, but it wouldn’t happen overnight.
In the meantime, she was struggling to restart her life free of her ex-husband, but with lousy credit and three children to care for as a single mom.
Jenna’s case was yet another example of how unfair life, love and marriage could be.
Julian downed the rest of his beer, stood, stretched and headed upstairs to bed, seventeen hours after he woke up in Stacey’s bed, only to be reminded why he almost never spent the night with a woman. He’d been exhausted last night and had fallen asleep without intending to.
He’d given her hope by staying. That’d been a tactical error he wouldn’t soon repeat.