Page 49 of Off-Limits

I try not to roll my eyes. “Just me.”

She leans forward and squeezes her tits together. Her white blouse is see-through, but I pay no mind. I have enough issues in my life without adding a stage five clinger into the mix.

Turning away, I move to take a seat when Archie calls me in.

We’ve been friends for a long time, but regardless of that, he’s professional and that has always come first. He’s a smart man and in no way crooked like the other lawyers and half the damn cops in town.

The light bounces off his bald head as he motions for me to follow him into his office. I do, cradling the paperwork underneath my arm, but as soon as the door closes, all pretences fall from his face, and something tells me this isn’t going to go as I planned.

“You might want to sit down for this, Damon.”

I remind myself this is not Archie’s fault, and taking out my anger and frustration on a friend isn’t the done thing, so I move to the seat across from him.

“Give it to me,” I demand, throwing my folder on the desk.

“We might have a problem.”

“I gathered. Now spill.”

Sighing, he opens his drawer beside him and pulls out a stack of stapled paper. As soon as I read the first few lines, fury erupts under my skin.

“She fucking what!?”

“I know.”

“Can she do this?”

“Not really, but she is going to try.”

“Will a judge look at this?”

Archie hesitates.

“For fuck’s sake. This woman has been the bane of my existence for over two decades, and we have been divorced for ten years. How is this possible?”

“Did she give you money toward the apartment or workshop at any time?”

“Kerry-Anne’s mother died and left her some money. I didn’t put it toward the workshop, but it’s going to be difficult to prove.”

Archie nods his head, seemingly already deep in thought, if his face speaks for him. When he doesn’t say anything, I glance down and continue reading through the documents. The more I read, the angrier I become. When I reach the last page, my hands are shaking, and my body is vibrating.

I’m moments away from blowing my fucking top but Archie speaks, dousing some of the flames.

“She won’t get what she’s asking, Damon. It’s not possible. You have been separated for a decade, you’ve paid child support, helped with all Arrie’s educational needs, and anything else she might have needed.”

I look up at him.

“She wants to take my fucking workshop, half my superannuation, and she wants me to pay her off for the house she’s living in. The house I fucking already paid for, Archie. You can’t expect me to be ok with this.”

“I’m not, and you don’t have to be.”

Closing my eyes, I roll my neck from side to side, trying to ease the tension. After a quiet couple of minutes, I open them and find Archie already watching me. Biting down on my tongue, I allow the pain to mollify me.

“How long?”

“If all goes well… Two years.”

“Two fucking years?! I refuse to spend another two years in this fucking hole.”