Page 80 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

“But that’s the thing,” Jinx said. “The tragedy isn’t brown paste you buy from some guy in a Lexus outside a donut shop; the tragedy is that I was a shitty dad.” He reached out his huge hand and carefully, softly ran the knuckles down her cheek.

“You weren’t,” she told him.

But they both knew he was. And not only to her.

“And I’m sorry for calling Mark,” Jinx said.

“Wait, were you high when you called Mark?”

Jinx nodded. Margo closed her eyes. Bodhi was heavy and sweating on her chest, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Of course that was it. He had just been high. She thought of herself shyly telling Dr. Sharp how good it had secretly felt, her father protecting her like that, defending her.

“Are you going to kick me out?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Margo said. There was a sour taste in her mouth. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her to kick him out, though she could see that maybe it was the reasonable thing to do. She suddenly remembered JB was coming and wondered if she should tell him not to. “What would you do if I kicked you out?”

“I don’t know,” Jinx said. “I mean, honestly probably use for a few months and then go back to rehab.”

“Oh God,” Margo said. She was glad he was being honest. It was also alarming.

She would be so sad if Jinx left, if this was how it all ended. But he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t be around Bodhi like this. And he’d lied to her, had been lying to her, this whole time.

“Margo,” Jinx asked, “I have a really, really big favor to ask you.”

“I’m not going to kick you out right this second,” she said.

“No,” he said, “I was going to ask if there was any chance you could go to the gas station and buy me a Milky Way.”

She stared at him.

“Okay!” He held up his hands. “Or not!”

She did go buy him a Milky Way at the gas station, partly to get away from him, but also because she wanted a Milky Way herself. The walk there with Bodhi strapped to her chest made her feel normal again, no longer a part of a sticky nightmare, just her sturdy, regular little self. She bought the Milky Ways and also two Orange Meals, one for her and one for Jinx.

The email from Ward was depressing, but she would talk to him at two o’clock and find out the whole deal. What she couldn’t imagine was getting through the rest of this custody battle without Jinx. Yet she also felt used by Jinx, tricked and manipulated. It felt like the only right thing to do was kick him out.

She didn’t even wait to get home to open her Milky Way, peeling open the wrapper on the walk back to the apartment. When she’d first told Jinx about the OnlyFans, he’d turned away from her, just like Shyanne. But in less than an hour he had come back. He’d chosen to be on her side, told her she wasn’t a car, taught her how to pay taxes and build heat. He had bounced her baby and soothed his cries and turned to look at her when Bodhi did something new or cute.

Yes, she was naive and an idiot. Too young and too stupid. Capable of completely mishandling serious things like drug addiction and taxes. But she was strong. And determined. If there was anything she’d learned, it was that strength and stubbornness were not nothing. The way Jinx had said it, when you’re lost in the deep dark woods, the thing to do isn’t to get scared of the trees—it made sense. It reminded her of the way the OnlyFans seemed to scare Mark, as though Margo wouldn’t be Margo anymore once people had seen her vagina. Maybe Jinx was still Jinx even if he was on drugs.

The sun was strong, and she squinted, her mouth filled with melting chocolate and caramel and nougat. Fuck it, she thought.

If Jinx had been fighting this battle his whole life, then Margo would fight with him.

“Come at me, bitch!” she said, and laughed, chocolate all over her teeth.

The methadone clinic was on Commonwealth Avenue, a large cube of ’80s paneled mirror glass, a building remarkable only for its complete lack of signage. Jinx and Margo showed up at eight a.m. the next morning, not understanding how busy it would be. It took them three and a half hours to fill out all the paperwork, complete the blood and urine tests, and see the doctor (who was honestly super nice). But they did it all, and in the end, they got Jinx his first dose.

When they drove home, Jinx sat in the back seat with Bodhi to help him through his car seat sadness, and Bodhi was all happy coos and grabbing at the ring toy Jinx dangled in front of him.

“Thank you, Margo,” Jinx said.

Margo wasn’t sure what to say. It had taken her only a couple of hours of googling to decide methadone would be the best thing. It had taken much longer to convince Jinx to try it. Her arguments: he wouldn’t have to leave, he could get treatment while continuing to live with her; it would also treat his chronic pain, since it was an opiate, thus keeping them out of situations like this in the future; they could go tomorrow and be on a new course. He wouldn’t have to go through the agony of detox. He could just be done, done with the whole thing.

Jinx’s argument was that methadone was heroin, it wasn’t any different, a drug is a drug, and an addict is an addict, plus you have to go there every single day, what a drag, and he wouldn’t be done, he would never be done, he would be putting off actually getting clean because eventually he’d have to get off the methadone. Also it immediately made people think less of you.

She had won only when she told him he had to go or she was kicking him out.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her eyes on the road.

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