Time for the kill shot.
“Ninety-nine point nine percent chance of probable paternity. But you knew that already, didn’t you, Earl? Just like you knew the only chance you had of getting under Delilah Hudson’s skin and coming out of your divorce with the upper hand was to go after her children. Funny how you were so intent on securing custody of Sadie Hudson and the unborn child, yet you couldn’t tell me a thing about Sadie, and you lied about your knowledge of paternity.”
A video plays, one we’ve already seen. Earl in hissleazy lawyer’s office going on a rant about Delilah and me and how he can’t wait to take everything from us.
“But what are you going to do when you actually get granted custody? You don’t want the kids, do you?”
“I’ll have a new wife lined up by then. She can take care of the brats; I’ll keep living my life the way I want, and Delilah will be miserable. I can’t think of a better outcome than that.”
“That’s…you can’t have that…you can’t…I have attorney-client privilege.”
“Well, Earl. I suggest finding yourself a better attorney. It was insanely easy and surprisingly cheap to buy this dirt ball off. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he loses his license. I wouldn’t want any other poor, unsuspecting ex-spouses getting caught up in his dealings. But my, my, my am I glad that he was willing to sing like a bird when I asked about you, Earl. In fact, that seems to be a running theme among the people in your life. As you’ll see here, I managed to procure written affidavits from five of the women you engaged in extramarital affairs with during your marriage to Delilah Hudson. This one in particular, I found very interesting. A Ms. Mindy Price?—”
“Mindy is a lying fucking bitch?—”
“A Ms. Mindy Price,” James continues, slightly louder to overshadow Earl’s crying. “who is alsopregnant with a child. A child, who, would you look at that? Ninety-nine point nine percent chance of probable paternity. I gotta say, Earl. For a tiny little man like yourself, you sure are fertile. I kind of feel bad for the kids, though it’s probably a good thing you aren’t around. I had a deadbeat dad myself, and I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t be the man I am today if he’d had any part of raising me. I think that makes your kids lucky.”
“I’m going to fucking kill Delilah. I know she’s behind this. Ruining my cars and my hair wasn’t enough for her. Selfish cunt needs to have fucking everything. Bitch thought she could fuck with me? She’s got another thing coming.”
The booth rattles, and while I can’t tell exactly what is happening on the other side, I’d guess that Earl is either searching for his phone to call Delilah or is trying to squeeze his beer gut out from behind the table.
“Ah, I have a strict no-phones rule in my meetings, Earl. I’ll take that,” James chastises as if he’s speaking to a child. I’m guessing he must have plucked the phone right out of Earl’s hand, because he starts cursing and demanding that it be given back immediately.
“You’ll get your phone back when I’m finished with you.”
“Fuck that. You’re finished with me now. You think I’m going to go into business with you when you’re treating me like shit and siding with these fucking bitches you don’t even know?”
There is a special place in hell for men who repeatedly refer to women as bitches, and I personally hope I get to visit someday so I can see Earl burning in hellfire.
“You know, they said you were pretty fucking dumb, Earl, but I didn’t want to believe them. I like to see the good, remember? But I have to say, I think they’re right. There isn’t a whole lot going on behind those eyes, is there?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I was never going into business with you. I don’t give a shit about you or your crappy chop shop or your little Instagram account where you do a shitty Vanilla Ice cosplay and DM dick pics to AI models at three in the morning. I’m here because I don’t like people who use their power to crap all over others. You see, I took a nice, long look into your business. The Earl Of Auto, opened by Arthur Ellis Booth thirty-six years ago after his only son was born. Once a booming mechanic shop serving its community, it’s now circling the drain despite the fact that it’s the only place within fifty miles to get an oil change andyou grossly overcharge your customers. How is that possible?”
“I’m out of here.” The booth shifts again, and this time, the looming shadow of James casts over Delilah and me.
“You’re not going anywhere. Now sit the fuck down.”
More movement, and I can tell that James has switched sides to trap Earl into the booth. I wonder if he’ll try to crawl out from under the table like a whiny kid.
That would be a sight to see.
“I gained access to years and years of back accounting documents, and let me tell you, they read more interestingly than a thriller. Look at all this fraud. Year after year of under-reporting sales, underpaying employees, dealing in cash so it can be slid off to the side without anyone noticing. You’re a sports betting man, right? Of course I’m right. I talked to your bookie. I know how much you owe. No wonder you’re charging a hundred bucks for tire rotation. Got that second mortgage on the house, too. You’re drowning, Earl. It’s only a matter of time before all this comes back to bite you in the ass. It would be a shame if someone with a lot of money and even more connections knew about your deepest,darkest secrets and was only one phone call away from ruining you.”
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“No, of course not,” James coos. “I’m giving you options, Earl.”
“Fuck that. You are trying to blackmail me. This is bullshit. You ain’t got shit on me.”
James chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Here we go. The moment we’ve all been waiting for. I squeeze Delilah’s hand in mine once more, mouthing I love you.
I love you too.
Then I take a deep breath and close my eyes, waiting for James to make his final move.
