Page 63 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

“Like how comedians have to bomb. If you don’t learn how to bomb, then the audience has you on such a tight leash, you’re stuck saying only the things you think they’ll like.”

Margo was frozen looking out her window, her phone pressed to her head. She had not associated freedom with being hated before. It made perfect sense.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Margo asked when she realized Rose was still talking.

“I asked if you wanted to take down the Hungry Ghost TikToks,” Rose said.

“No,” Margo said.

“You want to keep going?”

“I do,” Margo said. “Like, more than ever. I edited everything we shot on Monday and put it in your Dropbox. Take a look when you have a second.”

After Christmas and New Year’s, true to his word, Jinx made an appointment with a custody lawyer. Michael T. Ward, Esquire, was dark haired, clean-shaven, and fat in a way that suggested he’d played high school football. He used a lot of spiky gel in his hair even though he was in his forties at least, and he smelled strongly of cologne. I was prepared to dislike him, but then he offered us Nutri-Grain bars in the best flavor, strawberry. They were in a little wicker basket on his desk, and all three of us took one like they were cigars. I fed Bodhi tiny pinches from my fingers.

“So why don’t you give me the general situation,” he said, waving his hand around. He was tilted back in his desk chair. I oddly felt I could tell this man anything. As I told the story, I handed over the relevant documents: the NDA, Bodhi’s birth certificate, the restraining order against Jinx, the paternity papers I’d been served.

“Can he even do that, request full custody?” I asked.

Ward scoffed, a small crumb of Nutri-Grain bar flying. “I mean, he can try, but he’s not gonna get it. California courts prefer fifty-fifty custody both legal and physical.”

I crumpled my wrapper into a sweaty ball in my fist. “I don’t understand—like, it’s my baby, he didn’t want anything to do with him. How does he suddenly have a right to any custody at all?”

“Well, he’s the child’s father. I mean, that’s another thing—is there any chance he isn’t?”

“No,” I admitted. “But can’t we use the NDA as proof that he didn’t want Bodhi? That he gave up his parental rights? I mean, can I even respond without violating the NDA and jeopardizing Bodhi’s trust?”

Ward shrugged. “I mean, this NDA is so broad it’s practically unenforceable anyway, but no, it can’t be used to claim Mark gave up his parental rights. You can be disinterested for fifteen years and suddenly decide you want a relationship with your child, and the State of California recognizes your right to that relationship. But tell me more: what do you do for work, what does he do for work, what’s the grandma’s angle, give me everything you’ve got.”

I explained the OnlyFans and the doxxing but clarified that Mark’s family might not know about it because I’d blocked him on social media.

Ward fiddled with his ear, squinting. “Yeah, I don’t know. That’s a tough one.”

“But hopefully they didn’t see it,” I repeated.

“I don’t think you should hide it,” Ward said.

“Even if they didn’t see it?” Jinx pressed.

“Maybe they saw it, maybe they didn’t,” Ward said, “but if you hide it, she looks unemployed—also bad, possibly worse. California law is really explicit about finding custody arrangements that are in the best interest of the child, and it’s better to eat and have a mom selling nudes than not eat. Selling nudes isn’t illegal. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. I mean, is there drug use?”

“No!” Jinx and I said at once.

“Then I think it’s better to be forthright. I mean, the courts deal with it all the time: Mom strips, Mom does cam work. This is more of the same. If it’s just that and only that, no judge is going to refuse you partial custody. It’s a job.”

“But what about full custody?” I asked.

Ward sighed. “I mean, there’s nothing you told me so far that would cause a judge to deny Dad fifty-fifty custody. Maybe you could get a temporary order while he’s still so little. Does he nurse?”

I nodded.

“I have to warn you, though, the courts frown on one parent trying to prevent the other from having a relationship with the kid. It’s a big red flag.” I must have looked upset, because he said, “And hey, I know it feels unfair, but wouldn’t Bodhi be better off knowing his dad? I mean, if his dad wants to be part of his life? Dad’s not abusive or anything, right?”

“No,” I said. I did not know how to explain that Mark was simply a gross person, the kind of man who fucked his student, the kind of man who slept with his wife’s sister on their wedding night.

“I mean, it’s his kid too,” Ward said, licking the sweat off his upper lip.

Was Bodhi Mark’s kid too? Mark had not risked his life to bring him into the world, literally split himself open and been stitched back together. Mark had not stayed up nights nursing, lying in bed, tiny pinching hands kneading sore breasts. Mark had not been puked on, had not, once, miraculously caught spit-up midair with a burp cloth. Mark had not trimmed Bodhi’s nails or given him a bath or kissed his tiny feet or made him laugh. How on earth could Bodhi be his?

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