Page 28 of After Midnight

Dad leaned on the table and said quietly so only we could hear, “His pretty new toy wants to be seen, I guess.”

Papa K glanced over to where the couple was now seated and shrugged.

“Last year, Roger Miller’s company purchased over ten million in real estate. As you’re well aware, Allen, we were his agents for most of it. I’d really rather you not cause me to lose that account, if you don’t mind.” He winked at me so I knew he was teasing.

“Of course not, my love. And because I love you, take this,” Dad said, handing Papa K a napkin. “Now you can rub that brown streak off your nose before we eat.”

Damn, Dad could be so cheeky. I could tell Papa K wanted to laugh, but instead, he gave Dad a withering look and turned the conversation back to me.

The rest of the evening was fun, and besides a certain hunky bartender, I couldn’t think of two people I’d rather celebrate with.

“Thanks for tonight,” I said after we’d piled into the car, headed home. “I am so excited, I don’t even know how to act.”

Dad reached behind his seat to pat my hand. “We’re both so proud of you, Dillon. So proud that I forgive your papa for slipping up and bragging about you to Roger and his, um, date.”

Papa K’s grin turned to a frown at the mention of the woman. I snorted at his clear dislike of her.

“It’ll be good to finally see Roger attend our Valentine’s Day Gala,” Papa K said as he drove us out of the restaurant parking lot. “That got me thinking. Why don’t we plan on you performing at the gala? It’ll be something new and different, and an indirect way of promoting your shows at the comedy club.”

I thought about it. Although invitations to the gala had long been sent, Valentine’s Day was still months off. “Sure,” I said. “I can probably work up something new to entertain the snobby folks that usually attend.”

Papa K and Dad turned to share a look, and a smile. As much as my fathers’ annual gala could be a music-filled, wine-drenched good time, it was very much a networking schmooze-fest for them and Denver’s elite. Truth be told, I was shocked Papa K would even ask me to be involved. I wasn’t exactly a seasoned performer yet, but his confidence in me must’ve overcome his workaholic perfectionism.

“Really, you’re doing so much better, honey,” Dad said. “Just a year ago, it would’ve taken you at least a day to come to terms with offering Dillon a slot at the party.”

Papa K chuckled. “Nothing, and I do mean nothing, is more important to me than my baby and my sweetheart.” He pulled up to a red light, and once the car had stopped, he turned to me and added, “Don’t you ever forget that, you hear?”

I leaned forward and hugged him as best I could from the back seat. “I feel the same, Papa K. Thank you both for believing in me.”

Chapter eleven

Dominic

In a matter of weeks, life went from horrible to hellish. A month had passed since Margarette filed her lawsuit and we were now headed to court. Mr. Langdon didn’t know in advance which judge we’d been assigned. Turns out, we’d have been luckier with the devil himself on the bench.

Mr. Langdon let out a low groan when we walked into the courtroom but plastered a smile across his face, nonetheless. When I questioned him a moment later, his words filled me with dread. “This judge is the worst human being to ever sit on the bench. He’s conservative, crotchety, and, well, you’ll see.”

Both attorneys, mine and Margarette’s, had already submitted their requests to the judge, so for the most part, we sat in the courtroom watching the old codger read them.

When he finished, he looked over at my stepmother and smiled. “After reading the motions, I’ve decided to allow Ms. Shipley to continue receiving an allowance until her stepdaughters come of age, equivalent to the amount she’d been receiving prior to Mr. Lawson turning twenty-one.”

I glanced over at Margarette, in time to see her wink at the man. The old buzzard didn’t even try to look away from her, and I swear he even blushed. That was when I realized this was not going to end well.

I leaned toward Mr. Langdon and whispered, “I’m screwed.”

He patted my hand before he stood up. “We’ll not object, Your Honor, but if it pleases the court, we are submitting the records regarding what allowance Ms. Shipley has received over the past few years.”

The judge glanced at it, then shook his head. “This can’t be right, Ms. Shipley. You’re here fighting your stepson over four hundred dollars per month?”

I forced myself not to look at her, but I knew she must be bristling at the comment.

“Your Honor, there must be a mistake. The monthly stipend was worth a great deal more,” Mr. Clifford, Margarette’s attorney, quickly stated.

Mr. Langdon was just as quick to respond, and did so before the judge could put in his own two cents. “While that is technically true, Your Honor, Mr. Clifford is alluding to an amount that provided for the upkeep of the house and cars, and the ongoing care of my client. Ms. Shipley abandoned the home and left behind all but one of the vehicles when she filed this lawsuit, not long after Mr. Lawson turned twenty-one and took control of his trust. She no longer has any need for the full stipend, and, Your Honor, you can also see my client’s parents established his trust in such a way that gave him full control of it when he turned twenty-one.”

Mr. Langdon then cited several cases where rulings had been made that a trust, set up before death, wasn’t something that could be taken away from the intended trustee.

“It’s case law, Your Honor,” Mr. Langdon said emphatically, “and case law that’s been upheld by appellate courts across the state and nation for that matter.”

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