Page 41 of Tortured Tones

What was I thinking? I’d hung up on Cole. Shit. I bit my lip, not sure whether I wanted to laugh or curse more. He could fire me for hanging up on him and not returning to his house. Maybe he was used to people dropping everything and doing what he wanted, but I wouldn’t be one of them. He needed to be a father. It had taken all my strength not to help Charlotte. But deep down, I didn’t want Cole to turn out to be like my ex—someone who handed off taking care of his child to others. Cole was just nervous, anxious, and scared to learn. He’d be okay. I was confident...somewhat.

Leaving him had also been for a selfish reason.

It meant I could pick up Josh early . . . cross fingers.

It would be a waste of time driving all the way home to Los Feliz only to turn around and come back to Beverly Hills. But my stomach sank, twisted, and churned. Luther didn’t like spontaneous change. He kept Josh away from me for every second possible just to be a prick.

I pulled up at the end of the street not far from Cole’s house, wiped my sweaty hands on my pants, and called Luther.

“What do you want?” His surly voice hissed through the speaker.

“Hi Luther. Always a pleasure to talk to you.” Snideness slithered in my words.

“I’m busy. Get to the point.”

“I’ve finished early and was hoping it’d be okay if I picked up Josh now rather than later. I could swing by the house in twenty minutes or so.”

“I’m still at the office. That’s four hours ahead of schedule. What the hell? No.”

An arrow shot through my heart. “Luther, could you be nice for once in your life? I was flexible and changed my dates with Josh to suit you; could you please let me collect him now? Zoe won’t mind.” I got along quite well with Josh’s nanny. “It’d save me hours on the road since I’m in the area.”

“Why are you in Beverley Hills?”

I closed my eyes and rubbed at the mounting tension in my forehead. “I’m not. I’m nearby. My client lives halfway between your place and mine.”

“Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

“My clients are none of your business.”

“Whatever,” he snapped. Not knowing every detail of my life would be boiling his blood. Good. “But if you pick Josh up early today, I’ll dock the hours off your next weekend with him.”

My heart crumbled onto the floor in the car. “Luther. It’s just for a few extra hours today. You’re at the office, you won’t even notice he’s gone. There’s no inconvenience to you whatsoever.”

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Asshole,” I mumbled as I pounded my fist against the steering wheel.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” I didn’t care if he’d heard me. He was one. But I didn’t want to argue. I grasped every opportunity to be with Josh. With all the recent changes to our schedule, it had been too long since I’d seen him. Two and a half weeks seemed like a lifetime. “Luther, I’m so over your shit.” Fire curled through my veins in waves of hot rage. “You don’t care about Josh. I can’t wait for our court hearing and to put an end to these cruel games you want to play.”

“We’ll see about that.” Smugness rippled through his gruff chuckle. “Do we have a deal?”

I hated bending to Luther’s demands, but I didn’t want to give him any fuel to use against me. It crushed my soul having to give in. But each day I didn’t fight with him was another day his hold on Josh grew thinner. It wouldn’t be long now. There was only one way to win this battle and that was in the courtroom...and I was hell-bent on winning. “Fine. I’ll call Zoe to let her know I’m on my way.”

Luther hung up. No goodbye. No nothing. Jerk.

I called Zoe. But she didn’t respond. I dialed Josh. He answered on the first ring and was so excited I was getting him early.

As I pulled into Luther’s driveway, four sports cars were parked in front of the garage and by the entrance. I pulled up behind a Porsche and hopped out. Blaring music drifted from the house. Some lifestyle journalists had described Luther’s monstrosity of a home, with its grand gardens, huge glazed windows, and gilded regal furnishings throughout the interior as old-fashioned elegance. But to me? It looked more like a cat had thrown up in a French parlor. I was glad I no longer lived there.

I rang the big gold doorbell. No one came.

I tried again. And again.

After the fourth ring, muffled laughter from inside the house drew closer. Zoe opened the door. With long wet blonde hair cascading forward over her shoulder, a silky pink robe wrapped around her boney body, and a glass of white wine in hand, she staggered on her feet. The stench of wine on her breath nearly knocked me backward.

“Shit.” Her face blanched for two seconds, then she pasted on a bright smile. “Hey, Ava. You’re early.”

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