Courthouse
“You got this, man.”Jax sounds like he believes what he says. That makes one of us. He’s got his hands on my shoulders, and he’s looking at me with his characteristic blend of earnestness and intensity. We’re out on the courthouse steps. I look away. It’s a bitterly cold morning in early March, the long Chicago winter having one last hurrah before it finally hands over the reins to spring. The icy wind stings my cheeks and draws tears from my eyes. I sniff.
“Thanks, Jax. I appreciate the support,” I say.
The pretrial hearing for custody of my daughter begins in less than half an hour. Twenty-six minutes to be exact.
Jax taps me on the shoulder. “Come on, say it.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Huh?”
“Say, ‘I got this’.”
“You sound like a life coach.”
“No, I sound like a guy who knows his buddy could use a boost in confidence. And trust me, saying it out loud . . . it works.”
I do my best to smile. My cheeks are stiff from the cold. My face feels like a mask. “Sothat’s why you take so long in the bathroom every morning. You’re in there saying motivational crap to your reflection. I shoulda known.”
“Hey,” Jax says, “that was actually pretty clever. If you can think on your feet like that in the courtroom, Laci’s toast.”
Jax’s compliment makes me feel good. Actually, now that he mentions it, Ihavebeen thinking clearer lately. And I haven’t had a drop since . . . well, since talking to Paul on the phone and learning that the one good thing in my life, the one part of my existence that makes sense—being a dad—might get ripped right out of me by a woman whose moral compass, much like a broken clock, ceased to function.
And I couldn’t give a damn about her ‘getting clean.’ Paul told me about how she’s doing a lot better these days. It’s not that I don’t believe him. Paul’s one hell of a lawyer, and he’s the last guy who’d lie to me; it’s just that I think a person can quit drugs and still be dirty. A sober Laci is still pure poison. She’s radioactive, I tell ya.
I clench my jaw.
Jax notices and his expression softens. So does his tone. “Hey man, I know this is tough for you. I can’t even imagine—I mean—Look, I just want you to know that I’m in your corner. So are the guys. We know you’re a great dad. And . . . yeah. Just wanted to tell you that.”
Jax blushes. He’s just as bad at this kind of talk as I am.
“I appreciate that, brother,” I say. And I really mean it. I’ll be honest, part of me has been worried that one of the guys will do something drastic, like—and I don’t even wanna admit this without knocking on wood—testify against me. And by someone I mean Joey. Hearing Jax say they got my back means a lot.
But I guess I’m not totally surprised either. Me and the lieutenant did have a little sit down. ’Bout a week ago. I told him what was going on with the she-devil gunning for full custody of Kailee, and how freaked I was—still am—about it. Also told him about my plan to quit drinking. He seemed to believe me, which is good, ’cause I sure as hell meant it. Something changed in me after talking to Paul that day. Hell, right after hanging up, I walked straight to the bathroom, flask in hand, and poured what was in there right down the drain.
“Are you guys having a moment?” Penelope’s raspy, teasing voice comes from behind. I turn and see the bubbly nurse walking up the steps, smiling. She’s carrying a cream leather clutch. I know this probably sounds corny, but her smile warms me from the inside out.
She joins us by the stately column. Jax notices how amazing she looks and gives me the nod of approval.
Penelope looks out of this world today. Her dark brown hair is styled, and falls over her shoulders in loose curls. She’s wearing a trim, stylish grey overcoat and underneath it, a sexy black, floral print tights. Her legs look incredible in those things. Women and clothes—I swear there’s some kind of alchemy to it.
Anyway, I forget all about being nervous when she looks at me with that smile. A ‘secret smile’ ya know? Like that Semisonic song.You’ve got a secret smile . .? Yeah, my taste in music hasn’t changed after 1999.
“You look amazing,” I say, staring into her soft brown eyes.
“Really? Because I didn’t know what to wear. I feel like I dressed for a funeral.” She winces. It’s so damn adorable. Everything about her. Maybe the judge will see Penelope, and then look at Laci, and the sheer contrast will be enough to make him rule in my favor. One can only hope.
“Well, I think you nailed it,” I say, unable to avert my eyes from this goddess who, amazingly enough, seems to enjoy spending time with me. We’ve hung out three times since Paul’s phone call, and I don’t wanna jinx anything, but I feel like we’re getting pretty close. Not physically—still haven’t even kissed—but emotionally. She’s just so damn easy to talk to. And there’s this warmth she gives off. Being around her is like being around a campfire.
Jax clears his throat.
“Oh, sorry,” I say. “This is one of my lieutenants, Jax. Jax, this is Penelope. She’s . . . well, shewasmy nurse, and now she’s my—”
“Friend,” Penelope interjects as she shakes Jax’s hand. “I remember you from the hospital. It’s nice to officially meet you.”
“You too. And, uh . . . thanks for coming today and supporting our guy.” The lieutenant plants a hand on my neck and gives it a squeeze.
“It’s my pleasure. Harper’s a really great guy, and I think it’s ridiculous what’s happening.”
