“You can pour money into it, sure, but the thing ain’t worth it in my humble opinion,” Benny tells me, slapping his palm against my baler. Benny has been my friend since we were in middle school, and now he’s my most trusted mechanic.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, running my hands down my face. “That’s the last thing I wanted you to tell me.”
“Sorry, boss man,” he says, putting his baseball cap back on. “I’m just shooting straight with you. You’re going to end up dumping more money into this dinosaur than you will be getting a new one, though.”
I know he’s being honest with me. He’s never screwed me out of anything or made up anything just to get more money out of me. In fact, I usually end up forcing him to let me pay him. Benny stands, clapping his hand on my shoulder before heading out. “I have to get back to the shop, but let me know what you decide, brother.”
I nod, but I know he’s right. I have to go see the lawyer this evening, so I might as well swing by the equipment store to see what they’ve got. Mom and Dad picked Lennon up to go to the park and get ice cream, and Clover is downstairs reading.
It’s been a weird week since the papers were served. We’ve still been going on like normal, but it’s been more strained. She’s still helping out with Lennon in the mornings, but then she goes to town to run errands, see Brynn, or ‘work on stuff’.
I slide my jacket on and tell her I’ll be back in a bit, but then change my mind. “Hey,” I say, heading back to the living room before I leave. “Why don’t you come with me?”
She blinks. “Like . . . to the attorney? Isn’t that today?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’d like for you to come with me, if you want. No pressure, though. I have to stop by the equipment store first, though. The baler is shot.”
She considers it, but doesn’t look convinced. I put the cherry on top. “The baby chicks are in stock.”
She tosses her eReader on the couch and hops up. “You could’ve started with that.”
CLOVER
Beckett is finally able to pry me away from the chicks to run by the bank. Something about signing papers for his new farm thingy. While he’s in the bank, I’m searching for job offers for animators, but it’s essentially useless in this area. I’ve started looking into freelance illustration, though, and that’s a bit more encouraging. I’ve never really had the chance to focus solely on my art, and it might be time to start.
I startle when the truck door slams. Beckett looks livid, and he’s trying to breathe evenly, white-knuckling the steering wheel. There’s a deafening silence, save for the sound of my phone lock. “What’s up?” I ask him, sitting up straighter, my attention on him.
He lets out a controlled breath. “Buckle up, Clover Jane. I need to get to the lawyers early.”
I do as he asks. “What’s going on?” He smoothly reverses us out of our spot and heads towards the lawyer in town.
“She froze my assets.”
My jaw drops. “What?!”
I see his temples flex as he tenses his jaw. “Mhm,” is all he can commit to. No words at the moment, but that’s fine. He has every right to be pissed.
“What the fuck?!” Now I’m mad, too.
We pull into the attorney’s parking lot, and Beckett looks at me. “You don’t have to feel like you have to say yes, but will you go in with me? I could use someone to help keep me calm and focused.”
I’m already unbuckling to get out with him. We wait silently in a room that smells like far too much apple cinnamon. Beckett’s knee is bouncing a million miles an hour, but I don’t try to stop it. I’ll let him get as much energy out as he can before we head in.
Finally, Mr. Taylor comes out. He’s known us since high school; he doubles as the economics teacher there. “Hey, y’all,” he greets us, motioning us to come into his office. I follow behind the two men, grabbing a handful of soft mints off the reception desk on the way by.
“She froze my assets,” Beckett says harshly. “How was she allowed to do that?”
Mr. Taylor rummages through his files, looking for the correct papers. “Her lawyer filed a temporary financial restraining order,” he tells us.
“What does that mean?” Beckett shoots back.
“It means that it stops you from selling or moving around any marital assets until things are divvied up,” he says. “The only good thing about this is that she also can’t pile up even more debt until this is all said and done.”
“Even more?”
Mr. Taylor blanches. “Yeah. It seems like Hannah has gotten herself into quite a financial predicament. Credit card debt, a couple of evictions, and it seems like she’s defaulted on an account.”
“Jesus,” Beckett breathes.
