Page 99 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

She sure loved that phrase.

“At this point,” I said, “I think your first concern should be assessing your own legal risk. Here is a letter from my attorney, Michael T. Ward, asking you to stop entering my home without a warrant. The last time you were here, you entered under false pretenses by claiming that you would take our child unless we complied, which, as I am sure you know, is a violation of our rights and leaves you vulnerable to prosecution under 42 U.S. Code 1983, the Civil Action for Deprivation of Rights.”

Ward had leaped on that detail when we met. He kept calling it a game changer and asked me ten times if she’d really said that. We’d even called Jinx and made him repeat it exactly word for word. She threatened to take Bodhi twice, at first when he wouldn’t let her in and then again when I wasn’t home. Ward had guffawed: “What, like it’s illegal to have a babysitter? This chick sure loves to make threats, let’s see how she feels about receiving a couple.” I wasn’t sure it was as big a deal as Ward thought. There wasn’t any recording of the conversation. We didn’t have actual proof she’d ever said that. All she’d have to do was deny it. It would be our word against hers. Maribel pulled the binder over for the first time and began really looking at it. She skipped all the case files and read the letter from Ward.

Jinx reached over and took my hand. We held our breath as we watched Maribel read, occasionally murmuring the words to herself under her breath. When Maribel reached the last page, she lingered for a moment, then slowly closed the binder. “This is very interesting,” she said, “and it’s clear you put a lot of effort and time into this. And certainly, our primary concern here is Bodhi’s well-being. We’re not here to try to take a child that doesn’t need to be taken. Our goal is always to keep the child with their family if at all possible.”

“Right,” I said, breathless. It almost felt like she was backtracking. And I needed her to feel like backtracking was possible, would be easy. “That makes sense to me. Because our lawyer was so upset that he wanted to press charges immediately, but I said to him, ‘Ward, I think CPS really wants to help. They’re the good guys. Let’s give them a chance to show it.’”

“Absolutely,” Maribel gushed, “our first priority is always to try to keep a child within the home. What matters, at the end of the day, is whether the home is clean, whether the child is receiving regular medical care, and so on. Your drug test came back negative. The other people we interviewed confirmed everything I learned from you and from James here.”

“See,” I said, “this is exactly what I told Ward. But he was so caught up in the technicalities! He kept saying, ‘Margo, what they did was illegal, you could sue for a lot of money,’ and just going on and on.” I laughed like he was being silly.

Maribel was nodding rapidly and chewing on her upper lip. “No, we really do always want to do right by our families, that’s what we’re here for—to make sure everyone is safe! And thank you for this research, all this legal research. I think you make some very compelling points about the related nature of OnlyFans and cam websites, and we certainly do have legal precedent regarding the, uh, the cam websites.”

Jinx was squeezing the shit out of my hand. She must think she’d be in deep shit for lying to Jinx about taking Bodhi. She wasn’t even trying to argue.

“So at this point,” she went on, repeatedly clicking her pen, “this visit counts as your second home visit, which concludes your case, and once I file my report your case will be considered closed. But here is my number, and if you ever have any questions or concerns, or need help with social services or finding care, just give me a call or shoot me a text.”

“So wait,” I said, “when will we hear from you?”

“There is no further need for me to perform another home visit at this time. The only thing that would trigger a return visit is if we received another complaint.”

“Or if your supervisor has a problem with any of the documentation we provided?”

“I don’t really foresee that,” Maribel said. She wasn’t going to show her supervisor a single page from that binder, I realized. She was going to bury this as fast as she could.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” I said.

“Don’t cry,” Maribel said, “be happy! This is the outcome we all want, right?”

Was it? I stared at her, smiling in what I hoped was a genuine-looking way. She had us sign some papers saying the home visit had been performed and we’d been informed the case was now closed and that was it. She was leaving.

When I showed her to the door, I wanted to say something. “Good luck,” I said, and gestured to her stomach.

She looked confused. I realized I sounded insane. It was insane, really, that I still wanted to wish her well. I didn’t think Maribel was some villain; I thought she was an idiot who got off on power trips and probably did genuinely think of herself as one of the good guys. I also knew her whole life was about to get exploded, and not by me.

“It’s like falling in love,” I said, though maybe that sounded even more insane. “It’s the biggest love you’ll ever experience. And it will change everything about you. At times you will think your whole life is ruined, but you know, like, you wouldn’t change any of it. Just... I’m excited for you. That all that’s about to happen.”

“Thank you,” Maribel said in her guarded but sweet way.

I nodded and shut the apartment door.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“That,” Jinx said, when I came back to the living room, “was masterful.”

I laughed, giddy. As soon as Mark left, we called Rose and KC to come celebrate, and ordered in Mediterranean food that gave us all instant crippling diarrhea. Jinx’s guts were feeling it the worst, and he spent most of the night in the toilet. KC made a gross joke about how the diarrhea had “cleaned her out” and now she was “ready for some action,” so she and Rose went to meet up with Snoop Dork, and by eight p.m. it was only me and Suzie. Bodhi was asleep in his crib, the baby monitor resting beside me on the couch.

“So you were really going to quit?” Suzie asked.

“I mean, I thought I had no choice,” I said.

“When were you going to tell me I was fired?” she asked, then gave an unconvincing laugh. In the yellow lamplight of the living room, her dark blond hair shone like beaten gold, and the simplicity of her features made her look old-fashioned somehow, like a profile on a cameo.

“I was actually hoping to hire you full-time as my nanny.”

Suzie raised her eyebrows, then looked down. She was picking at the rip in her jeans, worrying the frayed white ends. Suzie was, I realized, still such a mystery to me.

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