“The network prepared for that particular breach of contract, and I would effectively be buying said plane if I did. Plus, the divorce isn’t the only lawsuit that’s come calling since you left. We need money.”
“There is nowe,” I corrected coldly. “But fine! You want to prove yourself and make things hunky-dory? Full custody. Right now.”
Any color left in his face bled away, as if I were addressing a man made of chalk. “Don’t ask that of me in an airport bathroom.”
I shook my head in disgust and reached for the door, but he still refused to release me. “Luke, you’ve always helped me win. It’s my turn. Let me defend you now—”
“I’ve got people defending me.”
“Who, that dumb kid?” he asked, defaulting to a tone I remembered all too well.
“Don’t pretend to be jealous of someone taking what you didn’t even want.”
“If you think that’s true, then you are—”
“Then I amwhat?” Our faces were inches apart now, but he didn’t dare respond. “Stay the fuck away from me, or you’ll wish your biggest problem was a breach of contract.”
He finally relented, letting me pass. Upon escaping, I saw reinforcements from local police wrangling the press back toward the wall of rental car desks. A red-eyed Shawn had already collected our luggage, and Zara deftly led us to the bus before we could be pursued, the cold winter air of a new hemisphere catching in my throat.
My head was ringing by the time the coach reached our expansive hunting manor, a hulking fortress of timber and stacked stone. A fire pit blazed in the corner of the sweeping lawn, where an overlook offered a panoramic view of Queenstown and her lake, the snowy peaks in the distance encircling it like the back of a sleeping dragon.
Inside, the fine art had metastasized from our previous residences, paintings in every cranny taunting us with their potential impact on the game ahead. One replica I recognized at first glance: the famous statue of theDying Gaul, a young soldier, prostrate, pierced by a spear, uncertain if he will rise or succumb to his mortal wound. I was practically gazing in a mirror.
Shawn and I selected our room and pushed the two beds together, the act that had felt so celebratory in China now totally forlorn. We sat on the edge, my left leg grazing his right.
“What time is it in DC? You could call the kids?” he suggested feebly.
“I don’t want them seeing me like this.” I collapsed back, staring at the coffered ceiling. I should have been panicking over the field day that social media was likely having, the ways this tempest would inevitably bias any divorce court judge, but—as had been the case during every cataclysmic crash I’d endured—a resigned paralysis had settled over my body.
By contrast, anxiety radiated from Shawn, who stretched out alongside me. “I’m so sorry, I should have guaranteed every camera was gone,” he said. “This is all my fault.”
“Don’t say that. None of this changes how I feel about you, all right?”
I turned over to discover him softly crying. “Luke… is everything going to be okay?”
“I wish I knew.”
But I did know. It absolutely was not. With Barnes here, I’d never truly atone for my old mistakes, but I might achieve something I’d not even considered. Revenge.
35
2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 8:
“… To Keep Me from You! (Part Two)”
Barnes wanted to call the kids together the next morning, but I insisted on speaking to them first. Privately. No producers. I suspected my worst nightmare and got it, stamped across their eager faces: they thought we were getting back together. “Where’s Baba?” Wallace asked.
I couldn’t admit I refused to sit in the same room with him. I wouldn’t be the bad guy. “He’s got a lot of confessional interviews to do since he arrived late,” I lied.
“I can’t wait to see how he does in the Tribulations,” Andie gushed. “You’re stronger, Daddy, but he’s faster. Especially if he has sprints like in Episode 3.”
“Honey, Baba was only in one episode of Season 1…” I said, my spine straightening. She immediately blanched, confirming the truth right as Jenny entered from the laundry room.
“Jen, did Andie watch beyond Season 1?” I asked sharply.
My baffled sister shook her head, and out creeped my daughter’s sheepish confession. “Just the first half of Season 2…”
