“I’m not sure. She was going to meet me here, but is probably running late.” I smile to overcome Lill’s rudeness. “But we can proceed without her. I have our list of questions.”
It’s really only my list of questions. Lillian doesn’t want to hear about the steps necessary to make this go away. She prefers to theoretically clamp her hands over her ears and spout loud gibberish to drown out the reality of her situations. This isn’t the first time she has screwed up. She doesn’t realize the extents I’ve gone to, to pull her out of harm and financial strife. She thinks that life just turns and unfolds in easy ways, ways where problems magically disappear and people give up on arguments, and frowns eventually turn upside down.
“Before you start on your list, let me ask a few quick questions.” The attorney swivels her chair left, then right, and laces her fingers over her concave stomach. “The woman on the video is your wife?”
“Yes.”
“The man is who?”
“David Laurent. He has a company that screen-prints T-shirts. He lives in Nevada but visits LA on a regular basis, according to Lillian.” No need to mention the other things I’ve dug up on David Charles Laurent,whose paper trail was clear and easy to follow. A Fresno business headquarters and personal address, no tax liens or bankruptcies. Unmarried. No kids. No social media, which I didn’t like. While I would have hated my wife screwing a selfie-posting asshole, social media was a trail that I could follow and analyze.
“He knows about the video?”
“I don’t know.”
“This has been an ongoing affair, or is this a one-night-stand sort of thing?” She snaps out the questions in quick succession, unconcerned with tact, and I appreciate that.
“Ongoing affair. One month in.”
“And the Jacob Smith that’s mentioned in the video and in the video’s description, that’s your son?”
“Yes.”
“Biological child to both of you?”
“Yes.”
“Any chance he’s not your son?”
“No.”
She purses her orange-red painted lips and nods, and I can tell that she isn’t convinced of the fact. I don’t care. I had a DNA test done as soon as he was born—not because I was worried about Lillian cheating but because surprises cause problems, and you should know all potential problems before they arise.
I flatten my list out on the table. “May I begin my questions?”
CHAPTER 41
MIKE
On the way back to the house, Sam calls. Irritated, I send him to voice mail. Lillian will surely be at home, fixing dinner with a blank look and a thin excuse for why she missed the attorney meeting. No matter—I found out what I needed to know. Our liability is nil, as are our chances of catching the asshole who did this. I wrote a hefty check for a retainer, and Amy will file a motion today demanding that the video be taken down and that any information on the uploader be given to law enforcement.
I don’t have high hopes for them getting info on the uploader. Possibly an IP address, but that could be easily manipulated or shielded. In the attorney’s office, I had huffed and puffed about the ridiculousness of personal protections, but in truth, I’m grateful for them. As inconvenient as they are in this particular situation, they are enormously helpful in my day-to-day life.
Right now, I need to compartmentalize my thoughts on the tasks ahead of me because there are many of them. I’ve presented to Lillian a hefty list of potential side effects, but I have a secondary list that I’m keeping from her. On that list, I’ve outlined how this could possibly affect my business.
I call Jacob, and he picks up on the second ring, his anger not extending to me. “Hey.”
“Have you talked to your mother?”
“Like, this morning.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know.” The sound of an automatic weapon sounds in the background. “Maybe like ten thirty?”
“Okay. Are you at home?”
“No, I’m at Dijon’s. We’re playingCall of Duty.”