Page 92 of Catching Sparkles

As I pulled into the parking lot at the school, my phone started ringing, my lawyer’s name popping up on the screen.

“Hello?” I answered, trying not to let the nerves I felt show in my voice. I never knew what to expect when it came to this whole divorce shit.

“I am about to be your favorite person in the entire fuckin’ world, Kensington.”

James Nichol was a professional divorce lawyer, but I’d known him first as Jay, a nickname he’d always gone by to differentiate him from his father, the first James Nichol, who was also a divorce lawyer. We’d gone to college together, and had been in a bunch of the same core classes.

“I doubt it,” I said, recalling how badly I’d wanted to stay snuggled up to Kendall’s warm body after my alarm had gone off. “What’s up?”

“Well, first let me give you some context for the story,” he started, and I had to suppress a sigh. He was a yapper, so this could take awhile. Might as well get comfortable, I thought, unlatching my seatbelt and letting it slide up into place. “You might recall someone by the name of George Sanders.”

“I might,” I deadpanned. He was my former father-in-law, and the owner of the business I’d worked at for nearly three years before being unceremoniously fired by the power tripping middle management bootlicker who happened to have been fucking my wife.

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t know this but Mr. Sanders has announced the fact that he will be running for mayor of our fine city, and I do happen to know that he has officially qualified and submitted the required candidacy documentation in plenty of time to appear on our next primary election ballot.”

“Get to the point, Jay.”

“Well, imagine all the money and work that goes into creating and executing a campaign plan. The fundraising, and tailoring your speeches for the audience, whether you’re showing up to a city council meeting or a civic club event, or a community festival. Researching for debates, and memorizing talking points-”

“I have a life. It’s wasting away while I sit on this phone with you.”

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, and I could hear his smirk through the phone. “Imagine doing all that shit, and it all being derailed by a video of your beloved daughter verbally admitting she not only has indulged in adultery, but also arranged for her poor, long-suffering husband to be unjustly fired by the very man she indulged with aforementioned adulterous sins with. At the very company you own, no less.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, that is the situation I presented to Mr. George Sanders in the form of the clip you sent me, and he agreed with me that it would be very unfortunate for his impending political career if that clip were to be shared with any of our local news sources.”

“So?” I asked, sitting up straighter in my seat.

“He’s proposing a settlement, wherein you would receive financial compensation on the grounds that we delete the video, sign a contract promising we won’t distribute the video. Standard NDA stuff. You get the picture.”

“Financial compensation? Like… He’s going to pay me so we don’t send out the video?”

“You have always been so quick on the uptake.”

I snorted, amused by the familiar banter we’d always had with each other. “How much money are we talking here?”

“How much money are you thinking?” He asked. “It goes without saying he’s willing to make Hailey agree to your terms of the divorce and split everything down the middle.”

“Ah…”

How much was I thinking? How the hell was I supposed to know? I’d never blackmailed anyone before. Or accepted a settlement, or whatever the hell this was considered. But then a number popped into my head. A very specific number I’d been carting around in my brain for just a little over a day. I gave him that number, before asking exactly how much I’d need in order to pay all his fees to him and end up with that amount in my pocket.

“Well, I think we can do a little better than that, Rhys. Dream big.”

“Ah, yeah, it’s just that it’s sort of… time sensitive. Do you think he’d send it faster if I only ask for that much?”

“Probably,” he mused. “Well, I don’t work on contingency, so it’s your decision.”

“It would really help me a lot. I need it, like… as soon as humanly possible.”

“What, are you in debt to the mob or something?”

“No! It’s… It doesn’t matter right now. Just let me know if you can swing it.”

He sighed, and I was certain he thought I was being an idiot for not dragging it out a bit for a bigger amount. That was fine, he could think what he wanted. It was a hell of a long shot, but if I could make it work…

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll call you back.”