We’re only made to wait for a minute before a secretary in fuck-me heels escorts us through to the inner office. One entire wall is glass, showcasing a view of the city that the lawyer turns his back on most of the day.
“Good afternoon,” the man says, his suit worth a month’s rental for the entire building. “Leonard sent me some information, but perhaps we could start by filling me in on a few details of the case.”
“I’m Zachariah Cameron,” I say, watching the arsehole’s expression drop as he realises for the first time he came in at the wrong angle. “And this is Lilac Tanner.”
“Of course. My apologies. It’s lovely to meet you, Ms Tanner, and please call me Aaron.”
She squeezes my hand again, this time in warning. Got it. No more arseholery. At least, not from me.
“Thank you, Aaron. I’m not sure what details you need.”
She lets go of me to wring her hands in her lap. Anxious Lilac is a trip. So is sexy Lilac and shy Lilac and shoot you in cold blood Lilac. So many personas and I haven’t found one I object to yet.
“How about we start with the basics?”
He reels off a list of questions about Lilac, Sierra, and their mother. The way they ended up in the system and who got fostered to whom. Although she knows how to answer, the words don’t come easy to her. After a few minutes, she reaches for my hand, then stops.
Adorable. I haven’t even told her I don’t appreciate when other people initiate contact. She just knows.
Like I know when I grab hold of her hand, she’ll grind my bones together. Not that it stops me from doing just that.
“…and things were going fine until…” Lilac breaks off the sentence, shifting in her seat and dropping her eyes to the desk.
To give him credit, Aaron waits for her to resume. Hopefully, it’s because he’s dealt with enough people who’ve been twisted and bent by the system that he knows when to prompt and when to hold his tongue.
Knowing my father and his ilk, it could just as easily be because each minute is billable and charging for silence is easier than advice.
“I went through a rough patch,” she finally says, the words limping forth and dropping in a dead heap on the carpet. “For a period of about eighteen months, I wasn’t in a fit state to be around her, so I broke off contact. When I recovered and tried to resume visiting, her foster parents opposed me.”
“Could you explain that further?”
I drag my chair closer, switch hands to let her take a turn at crushing my right one while draping the left around her shoulders. She leans into me, eyes still fixed on the edge of the desk as though it’s about to unlock the secrets of the universe.
“I got sick of never having money. It just kept getting harder the older I got. By the time I turned fourteen, other kids at school were making my life hell. Not in a…” Her mouth twists, trying to find excuses for her tormentors as if they ever gave her a second thought. “Not physically. They never beat me or anything. But verbally… they used to shout things, mocking me…” She shakes her head. “I just thought if I had money to buy the right clothes and shoes and games, they’d leave me alone.”
My new mission in life is to find every scrawny teenager who ever so much as looked at Lilac the wrong way, and pound them into oblivion. If that means the city loses a generation, so be it. I choke with anger at the idea of someone hurting her. Making her feel ashamed.
“Anyway, there was a boy from one home that I was… not friendly with exactly, but, you know, we got along. He was a runner for a gang”—she breaks off to offer Aaron an apologetic smile—“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t say which one.”
The lawyer waves a benevolent hand, and Lilac swings her foot as she picks up her place.
“Anyway, I worked for him and made a bit of cash and bought a few things.” A wry smile picks at the corners of her lips. “It didn’t help one bit with the name calling, so I proved something, I guess.”
“Were you caught?” Aaron prompts her.
“No, but I… started using. Then I was just selling to buy more product and things got… nasty for a while there.”
“And Sierra’s foster parents were aware you were taking illegal drugs?”
She nods but doesn’t expand on it.
“Tell me about when you tried to see her again.”
“They objected. A case worker helped me apply through the department and then through the courts. They fought me each step of the way.”
“They’ve never adopted?”
“Not that I know of.”
