“Not quite. Though we did meet in high school,” I murmur, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs as I bite down on my bottom lip.
It’s in this moment that I fully appreciate the lure of a one-night-stand. You’re free to say what you want, do what you want and put forward what-ever version of yourself you want to be, all done with the presumption you’ll never see that person again. For one night, I got to be someone that didn’t carry my past. And now I face the crushing realisationthat my true self is about to be exposed. The weak, dependent, train-wreck with more baggage than an Airbus A380.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I try again. Skydiving with a kite instead of a parachute sounds more appealing than discussing my marriage with David. “Is there someone else who can take my case?” I ask, suddenly hopeful. “The guy who came in before, maybe?”
David runs his hand across his jaw, his gaze so unwavering in it’s focus on me that it sets my skin alight. My body, the traitorous bitch, doesn’t care about the awful words that come out of this man’s mouth, deciding only to respond to the way he looks. Unbelievable. It’s that kind of attitude that got me into this mess in the first place.
“No.”
That’s it. No? No explanation, just ‘no’.
“Okay, then. Maybe I should find another firm.” I go to stand, but his voice pins me to my chair.
“I’m the best divorce lawyer in Melbourne,” he says, his low voice reeking of superiority. But there’s something else laced into it; something that gives me pause. A hint of panic. Almost like he doesn’t want me to go somewhere else. But why? He’s made it abundantly obvious he isn’t invested in me or my situation.
“Yes, you’re probably the most expensive too,” I counter, determined to test my observation. I don’t care about the money. His fees will come out of the settlement, and Lord knows Daniel can afford it. I just want to know if he really is trying to keep me here, and why?
“My fees are reflective of my services.” David rests back in his chair again, the epitome of cool, calm, collectedness. Apparently.
“Still, I think I’ll try my luck elsewhere, with someonewho doesn’t feel the need to criticise me at every opportunity.” I go to rise again. Surprisingly, he takes the bait.
“Your husband is a famous AFL player,” David drawls, yet I detect a sense of urgency in his tone that is wholly unnecessary. He captured my attention with those words alone. “I have experience with them. They can be ruthless, as I suspect you know, which is why you sought out my firm to begin with.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Some clubs have been known to…inadvertentlythrow their weight behind their players, which can make it difficult for spouses to pursue fair outcomes after a marriage breaks down. They want to protect their valuable players, theirinvestments. Trust me, I’ve represented a few.”
I hover my ass off the seat. He’s got me, and he fucking knows it.
“Is that why you want my case?” I ask, surprised at the venom that spills out with my words. “Because of who my husband is?”
Why does everything always have to come back to Daniel?
David’s eyes darken, narrowing at the edges as his glare pins me to the chair.
“You could say that.”
He plays dirty, and I should have known that off the bat. I’d seen first hand just how dirty he can be. Unfortunately, I can’t deny that I need this ruthless man on my side. I guess I’ll be sitting my ass back down.
Davidand I come to an unspoken agreement to avoid discussing our night at the hotel further, which suits me just fine, and over the next hour he asks me what feels like athousand questions about the intricate details of my marriage to Daniel. It’s surreal, like I’m living through every gory detail of a fully fledged nightmare, yet I’m very much conscious. On the bright side, I manage to avoid mentioning to David the more abusive elements of my marriage, preferring not to enlighten him on the depths of my patheticness, even if it means I have to blur the lines of truth and paint myself as a spoiled, entitled WAG instead.
The questioning went along the lines of this:
Him: “Why did you drop out of university?”
Me: “My husband was a rising star in the football world, I didn’t need a degree.”Lie.
Him: “Why have you never worked since leaving university?”
Me: “My husband earned millions, I didn’t want to work.”Lie.
Him: “You said you have possession of your engagement and wedding rings. Why?”
Me: “They’re worth lot of money. I wanted to keep them.”Lie.
Him: “You were married for eight years. Why no children?”
Me: “I wasn’t ready to give up my lifestyle.”
I grit my teeth through that lie, but the alternative was talking to David about my fertility. Or lack there of, more specifically. No, thank you.
I could tell he was getting pissed off with my seemingly aloof responses, but I’d rather he think of me as a superficial gold digger than a weak, spineless pushover. Then things took a turn when he asked me if Daniel was aware I had sought legal representation.
