Page 36 of Queenslander
“You work for the graziers? They’ll be flooded. The Barron’s about to jump her banks. All over the news. Gillies washed out yet?”
“Not yet. Thanks for taking my case.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Come on in. A petition for a hearing is an easy process if you file jointly with the custodial parent. Have you asked your daughter’s mother if she is willing to file jointly with you?”
The lawyer’s office had a desk, a chair for clients, and a floor-to-ceiling window that was currently a view of the inside of a waterfall.
Ronnie shook her head.
The lawyer sat down behind her desk, sliding glasses that had been in her hair down to the bridge of her nose. She folded her hands on a manilla folder. “You can ask her to come in and meet with me, or I can send her a letter. It will go better if you talk to her first. Then she and I can arrange a time for her to come in and sign the first round of documents.”
“Can you just call her?”
“I can if you prefer that, but I don’t recommend it.”
“Do that. Please.” She watched the woman scribble on the legal pad. “How many rounds of documents does she have to sign?” She had a sinking feeling.
“Two. One in my office to file the joint petition, and another in the courthouse on the day of the hearing. If she expresses reservations, there are things we can try to ease her into it. Don’t worry about that now. This meeting is for me to get to know you.”
After some housekeeping about sliding scale hourly rates and confidentiality, the woman closed her laptop, folded her legs and pulled a legal pad onto her lap. “You assaulted your partner in ’05. That’s on the public record.”
“Okay.”
“This is confidential. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you assault her?”
Ronnie sighed. There was no easy answer. “Self-defense?”
“Explain.”
Ronnie rubbed her knuckles along her lips. “She was selling drugs. She had me shaking people down, roughing up dealerswho owed her money. I never got caught. Neither of us did. She was my business manager.”
“What sort of business manager?”
“Footy, music, other things. We thought we were entrepreneurs.”
“How did that start?”
“She got shagged at church camp, started going on dates with older men she met online. She did that when I met her. She retired from that, moved to back of house, started setting up other girls.”
The lawyer’s pen moved across the yellow legal pad. “Your partner was a pimp?”
“You could say that.”
“Was she your pimp?”
Ronnie hesitated. Wanted to laugh for some reason.
“How old were you when that started?”
“Fifteen. I only did it a handful of times.”
“Is that how you became pregnant?”
Ronnie shook her head.
