Page 23 of Chill

Cartman kept apologising, but it didn’t change anything.

I collapsed in the corner of the kitchen, shaking violently. Gerard and Judy had millions, and my children were living in poverty. What type of asshole would put a whore before his own kids?

“What happened?” Chill asked, standing above me, looking concerned.

Without meaning to, I blurted out the whole sorry mess.

“He’s still not paying anything?” Chill demanded.

“Nope. But he bought Judy a fifty k necklace last week, a day before Poet’s birthday. She didn’t get a thing.” I shook my head in despair. “We’re barely making it, and now this?”

“Shit will sort itself out in the wash.”

“Oh yeah, of course it will. I helped build his company, supported him for years, and my so-called best friend walked in and fucked my husband. Worse, I was carrying Poet, and it was a really bad pregnancy. I bet she’s sucking cock like a champ because Lyle divorced her and she didn’t get a damn cent out of him.” I buried my head in my hands.

“Hey, life always gets better,” Chill said softly.

I didn’t bother replying, but got up. “I need to make lunch; I can’t afford to lose this job.”

“You won’t,” Inglorious stated from the doorway.

“No. I won’t.” I turned away and began prepping. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

I headed to Rapid City with every intention of confronting Gerard. If he wanted to fuck me over, fine, but not the kids. As I drove through the centre of town, I stopped at some lights opposite a restaurant, and my stomach flipped.

Sitting there having a cosy chat was Cartman, my fuckin’ lawyer, with Gerard. The lights changed, and I parked up quickly and pulled out my phone. In sheer disbelief, I watched as they laughed and tapped their glasses together, and then Gerard handed Cartman an envelope. I zoomed in on him and watched him count one-hundred-dollar bills before putting them in a suit pocket.

Cartman had taken my money and worked for Gerard. My own lawyer was screwing me over. I kept staring in disbelief, but the scene never changed. Finally, they stood up, slapped each other on the back, laughed, and then separated. Without a second thought, I drove away. I had evidence, but now what?

“What’s going on?” Nanci demanded two days later.

“Sorry?” I asked, turning around.

“Meadow, you’ve been so distracted—I know something’s wrong.”

I didn’t mean to, but everything came pouring out again: how I’d paid Cartman up front and then Gerard hiding the money and assets. Then I showed her the video of Cartman accepting a bribe.

“Well, shit. He’s breaking the law. Have you signed off on the divorce?”

“No, I’m going next week.”

“Not alone, you ain’t. I’ll get you a new lawyer, and in the meantime, lodge a formal complaint with Drew. He’ll know what to do. Let me call him and Bow.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do that in Spearfish,” I replied.

“We can’t control the narrative there,” Nanci argued, and that made no sense.

“I don’t want to cause drama,” I stated firmly.

Nanci glowered at me. “You’re not. Shut up. I’m calling Drew.”

I could only watch as Nanci railroaded me into making a complaint and sending her and Drew the video. Drew said he’d lodge it with RCPD and have someone pick Cartman up for an interview.

Chill

“You going to handle that issue?” Inglorious asked.

“Not my place,” I replied.