Page 58 of Live Love Steal
The lawyer pulled the checks out and handed them back. “He’s right. You can’t buy custody.”
Jackson’s jaw worked. “Had to try. Sketch is a good brother, and he’s an even better father. And no matter what happens today, I want you to know we got his back.” There was a coldness in his tone. The words were simple enough. The underlying message, anything but. Then Jackson addressed me. “We’re here for you. No matter what.”
Sentiment aside, there wasn’t much a show of force would do, except screw my case further. But it meant a lot they’d shown up. “How’d you know?”
Jackson dipped his head. “You told us last night that you were going to be here.”
I had. But how did they find me? That question went unanswered because it was time to go in.
Noah went off with a court representative. The guardian ad litem for him left with them.
As the lawyer and the judge went over the papers, my lawyer sent me a questioning glance, as if warning me I wouldn’t like what she was doing. Then pushed her agenda. “The move and subsequent distances will impede visitation.”
The judge frowned and flipped papers back and forth. More than once, he looked at my disheveled clothes, the tattoos peeking out of my cuffs and collar, and the haggard circles under my eyes.
“Apologies for my appearance, I was up all night. Noah was sick.”
“I was up all night, too,” Sharon interjected.
I hung my head.
“Were you?” my lawyer asked her.
I’d told her how Sharon stormed out of the hospital, leaving me with Noah.
“Yes.”
My lawyer’s jaw tightened. She flipped open the folder Jackson provided. “We’re also worried that the monies for child support will be disrupted during the court transition.” She placed a paper on top of the stack.
This one got a lot of scrutiny. “What am I looking at here?” the judge finally asked.
My lawyer clarified. “This is a list of the number of times additional funds were sent to Ms. McMullen?—”
“Kayne,” Sharon reminded everyone, “Miss Kayne.” She crossed her arms.
My lawyer smiled and corrected herself, “Apologies, this is the number of times funds were sent to Miss Kayne for additional maintenance. She doesn’t work.” With that, my lawyer tapped on the holdings information. The proceeds from club businesses I had partial ownership of as a member of the Destroyers.
“I’m a full-time mom,” Sharon reminded everyone.
The judge scanned the list. “Five hundred for a copay?”
“I’m sorry, I should have amended that to eighty. Mr. McMullen wired it to her yesterday. She originally asked for five hundred. My mistake.”
The judge’s eyebrow went up, and he looked at me. “You were with them in the hospital?”
“I arrived at about twelve thirty, when she called to tell me she was there with him.”
“This request is time-stamped at eight-ten.”
My lawyer jumped into the conversation. “I can play back the voice memo where Mr. McMullen requested she take him to the emergency room at that time.”
The judge stared at Sharon. “What time did you arrive at the hospital?”
“I don’t remember.” Sharon looked away.
I still had the admitting paperwork she shoved at me when she took off. I pulled it out, checking to see if there was a time noted. “Eleven thirty-nine.” I handed it to my lawyer, who circled the time with a red pen.
The judge picked up the list of transactions again. He set it down after quieting Sharon three times for interrupting his perusal. Finally, he asked, “When you move to Delaware, what will you be doing for money?” He stared at her over his glasses. “And, where will you stay?”
