Page 105 of The Best Part of Breaking Up

“Look,” he sighs. “She told me that she could work out some new sponsorships for me through her online following. She said this would be huge, that she would get tons of money from the divorce, and that this could work out for both of us. All I had to do was come along for the ride.”

“And you didn’t think this request was… unusual?” Quentin asks.

He laughs. “Have you ever been around this game before? Everybody in this business wants something from me. Money. Sex. Publicity. And honestly, she wasn’t a bad time. Fun to hang with. Plenty of hot friends. A bit of a handful when she starts drinking. But yeah, she promised a lot of things. She was playing me. I’d bet that she’s probably playing you, too.”

“And you’re no longer willing to testify about this?” I ask.

“I told you. My hands are tied. They will pull me from this tour if I say another word.”

“We could always subpoena you,” I offer.

He heaves a sigh. “You don’t even need me. Just ask her guy.”

“What guy?” Quentin says.

“Gigi had a driver. He took her everywhere. He knew her comings and goings, but he also heard everything. He’s the only one you need.”

“They didn’t have a driver on the books,” I argue.

“She met him through rideshare one night, and they set up an arrangement. She kept him on call and paid him cash. He worked with her for a couple of years I think, but recently they had a big falling out.”

Grayson pauses to step up to the tee. Without any fanfare, he takes an expert swing. The thwack of clean contact sends the ball soaring through the air. We all pause to watch it land smoothly on the fairway. Grayson passes his club back to the stocky, curly-haired caddy and hops into the waiting cart.

“Trust me,” he tells us. “He’ll talk.”

***

To say that this is the strangest set of witnesses I’ve ever called in a family law case is the understatement of the century. We’ve got the ex-wife. Farkas’s veterinarian. The pet sitter. Their neighborhood’s security detail. The cleaning staff. Zelda. And a seemingly random Ryde driver.

The judge glances at our list and gives us an exasperated look. “Is all of this really necessary?”

“Yes, your honor. Unfortunately it is.”

It starts strong. Kimberly describes Teddy as a sweet and gentle husband, even during their divorce, and a lifelong friend. She reveals what she knows about Gigi’s temper and her tendency for threats. The vet verifies the exceptional level of care that Teddy has provided for Farkas and corroborates that they’ve never met Gigi. The pet sitter similarly says all of his dealings were with Teddy, and that Teddy called at least once a day to check on Farkas for the two weeks they were vacationing in Europe.

Mike Murdock objects, and I know before he speaks where this is going: the question has never been if Teddy coordinated Farkas’s care. We move on.

Meanwhile Teddy silently drums his fingers on the table like he’s trying to keep time to an imaginary bass line, refusing to look up from the smooth surface of the wood.

The security detail gets a little more traction. They were called to the Glass residence three times over the course of the past couple of years. One was due to the fire that Gigi started in an attempt to burn Teddy’s clothes and a few of his records.

“They smelled like urine.”

“Whose urine did you think this was?”

“Objection, your honor: calls for speculation.”

I redirect. “What happened after you saw the clothes?”

“Mr. Glass was yelling. He was saying, ‘Why would you piss on my records?’ At this point, I even asked her, ‘You pissed on his records?’ She said, ‘It wasn’t me.’ I said, ‘Well, who was it then? Did he piss on his own records?’”

At this, a few members of the court laugh. The judge taps her gavel before motioning for the security guard to continue.

“Did she respond to this question?” I prompt.

“Yeah, she laughed and said, ‘Maybe it was the fucking cat.’”

“What happened the other times you were called to the residence?”

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