The Juke (Changes Book 2) Page 7

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Yes, very worried. Assaulting a police officer is a serious charge, and juries tend to favor the testimony of uniformed officers. If it’s your word against his, they’ll take the side of the officer almost every time. You could be facing some serious jail time. Years.”

  “So how will we find out?”

  “They’ll contact me first. I have a friend in the DA’s office, and she’ll let me know if they start to empanel a grand jury to hear the evidence.”

  Frank was still trembling.

  “Frank, relax. You just won the first battle, all things considered.”

  “I don’t feel like I’ve won. I was just found guilty.”

  “You got no jail time, and they were pushing hard for that. I had offered a plea deal that was exactly what you ended up getting, so that’s a victory. Don’t discount the impact of that…you’re very lucky, considering how hard the DA went after you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, don’t think about anything else tonight. Go home. Have a drink. Hug your kids. You avoided jail, which isn’t a small thing. Once you’re over this, you can start thinking about your career and all that. These things can spin you out of control if you’re not careful. Don’t let it do that to you.”

  “Okay. It’s just…I don’t know.”

  He sat down next to Frank and put his hand on his shoulder. Frank looked up to him. “Frank, you’re in a tough stretch. You’re in a winter. Spring is on the horizon. Just bear it. Handle the tough weather, and then you’ll find things green and sunny again.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Is your wife here? Maybe she can take you out to celebrate.”

  “No, she said she didn’t want to be here, just in case I was sent to jail.”

  “Oh. Okay. Understand.” But he didn’t. “Well, do you need a lift?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Kevin. I honestly thought I was going to jail today, so I took a taxi this morning.”

  As Matthews collected his papers and signed forms, Frank pondered his life. He decided to take the positive view. He had, as his lawyer said, avoided jail. Dodged a bullet. While he might be facing further lawsuits and trials, those were out of his control. He could only take things as they came to him, and fight through each obstacle. Frank decided to push forward. To struggle on. To fight. He would work his way through his problems and find himself on the other side someday, somehow. He was intelligent, resourceful, and hard working. He would come through, he determined, and be a better man for it. He had his family…four children who loved him and a wife of sixteen years. He would find another job and get things back in order.

  VIII

  Frank opened the collar of his white dress shirt and pulled loose his red necktie. The heat in his eyes made him turn his head. Outside, December rain poured from heavy black clouds. He lost himself in them for a moment. The weather matched his melancholy. Competing storms. Black against black.

  “Mr. Joseph, are you okay?” the magistrate asked. She was older, and her voice cracked as she spoke.

  “Fine. Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, and turned back to the large table.

  “If you need some time, sir, we can take a short recess…” she offered. He saw sympathy in her eyes. No sympathy from Shelly.

  She sat directly across from him. Next to her sat Tony, his best friend of twenty years. The best man at their wedding. They were holding hands. Tony was stone silent, but his eyes never left Frank.

  “If you’re okay to continue, we need to work out the division of property and custody of your children.”

  Shelly’s lawyer, a slender black man, resumed, speaking toward the microphone in front of him. “My client is seeking full custody of all four of their children: Matthew Joseph, Mark Joseph, Luke Joseph, and Ruth Joseph.”

  Frank wiped away a hot tear as the names were read.

  “As such, she will require substantial child support, in an effort to maintain the home and their respective activities. We request the court direct Mr. Joseph to find employment, due to his current inability to provide any substantive support to my client and the children.”

  Frank sat up and leaned toward the microphone, looking directly at his wife’s lover. “I provided full, complete support until I lost my job. I lost my job because I was defending my best friend in a fight, for which I was convicted of battery.” He sat back, never breaking eye contact with Tony. Tony looked back firmly, but then blinked twice and looked away.

  “Your honor,” her lawyer replied with huff, “please direct Mr. Joseph to refrain from further outbursts such as these. They are not substantial to this hearing, nor are they constructive.”

  “Mr. Joseph,” the magistrate asked in a soft voice, holding open her flat hand to the attorney, “are you sure you wouldn’t like to seek counsel and convene this hearing at a later time?”

  This time his eyes locked on his wife’s. He again spoke directly into the microphone, as if the magistrate wasn’t in the same room. “No, your honor. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  The magistrate didn’t comment, but cast her eyes down on the forms in front of her. She ran her small, knotted fingers over her thinning hair, which was pulled back tightly. All legal proceedings relied on paperwork, and she had plenty to complete today. She took up her pen and nodded to the attorney.

  “If I may, your honor, I’d like to continue with the points we were discussing. As you can see, we are requesting full physical custody based on Mr. Joseph’s history of violence, which potentially endangers the children. We ask that his visits with the children be supervised at his own expense. We ask that all savings and investments go toward the maintenance of the family unit…”

  “Family unit.” Frank spoke into the microphone, then sat back, eyes on his wife and her lover. All eyes turned to him, and then away.

  “…the family unit. As Mr. Joseph is currently unemployed, all investments must be used to pay the significant expenses my client is incurring in the support of their children.”

  “Their children.” Frank had again spoken into the microphone, then sat back in his chair.

  “Mr. Joseph, please hold comments, sir. I understand this is difficult…” the magistrate spoke soothingly, trying to keep calm and order. “Please understand that this is a legal hearing, and there is a process to follow.”

  “Yes, your honor. A process. I’m very familiar with legal processes lately. I’m sorry. I will withhold comments.” He settled back in his chair and set his eyes on his wife. He put a crooked smirk on. He glared, eyes directly on the eyes of his wife, as her lawyer continued detailing the support she needed. She looked away, eyes panning the room. To Tony, with a wan smile. Then to her lawyer. To the magistrate. She could feel the weight of his stare, and it was heavy on her. Those eyes singed her. They burrowed under her skin and crawled on her nerve endings. They itched at her soul. She tried to focus on her lawyer’s description of her needs, but those eyes were on her.

  She turned her eyes back to Tony, looking down to his lap. She had lost some weight, and her dirty-blonde and gray hair was now colored auburn. She had too much makeup on. Ah, cling to the last vestiges of your youth, Frank thought. You need to hold on to the last of what you’re losing quickly. The pretty wife who had grown matronly as she approached middle age now dressed like a woman half her age and wore more makeup than a circus clown. You’d better hope Tony doesn’t lose interest in you, he thought. Then where will you be?

  She could still feel his eyes moving over her.

  Her lawyer continued, “So the investment accounts we’re discussing are complex, but I’d like to detail them here…” but she could no longer hear him. She could only feel Frank’s eyes on her. Biting her. Grinding her bones. Judging. She tried to keep looking at Tony, but he was looking away, averting his own gaze from his former friend. She looked back to her husband, and the eyes were there waiting for her, sharp like a slap. Needles in her mind.

  “STOP FUCKING STARING AT ME,
FRANK! GODDAMNIT!” she shrieked, slapping her hands on the table. Her lawyer stopped and looked at her, mouth open to say something that would not come out. A brief moment of absolute silence followed. Frank’s crooked smirk broadened to a smile. A tiny victory after a string of defeats.

  “Mrs. Joseph, I will not tolerate language like that…” the magistrate began, but she was cut off.

  “I’d like to request a short recess, your honor. I think my client is a bit tired from all the events of these last few months…”

  “Your honor, I’d like a short recess too,” Frank interjected. He had accomplished what he had wanted. “If given a short recess, I think my wife and I can work out the arrangements of our divorce. Would you please give us ten minutes?”

  The eyes all flickered around the room, briefly finding others, then moving on. Frank sat back and smiled. Michelle Joseph nodded to her lawyer. That was the cue, and everybody filed out. Three people sat still.

  When the room was emptied, Frank smiled at his old friend. “Well, I understand your testimony at the trial now.”

  “You don’t know shit, Frank!” Tony’s voice was sharp, hissing.

  “You wanted my life, and now you have it. You could have just asked…”

  Still flushed, Michelle Joseph spoke up, putting her hand on Tony’s. “Frank, you said we could work this out…I’m not going to sit here while you insult Tony. He has been a rock to me during these last few troubled months.” She leaned closer to him.

  Frank didn’t need to see any more.

  “I’ll bet he has. Okay, Shelly. I’ll get out of the way. That’s what this is all about, right? I’ll step out. Full custody? Yours.” He leaned back in the chair and regarded them. He put his fingertips together, his index fingers to his lips.

  “I would probably have gotten that anyway,” she sneered at him.

  “Maybe…but I’m going to let you have them without a fight. You’ll at least save legal fees. I’m not sure if Tony is really ready to parent four kids and take care of things, but you’re welcome to them. Good luck.”

  Tony smiled over to Michelle. Frank thought he saw just a bit of a flutter in his eyes.

  “And you want all the money? You want all the property? House? Everything?”

  “I need those to take care of the kids…you know that’s only fair, Frank. Since you’re unemployed now…”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s fair you take everything, and I get nothing. Yeah? Sound like a square deal?”

  “I have to think about me and the kids first, Frank. I have to protect us.”

  “By us you mean yourself, right, Shelly?”

  “Frank, goddamnit…”

  He again regarded them. They seemed so small and so far away. Kids caught cheating on a test. Tony’s suit was cheap; Frank wore suits daily and could spot something off the rack. Shelly’s skirt was too tight for a woman her age, and her heels were too high.

  “I loved you so much, Shelly. I never thought I’d have seen the day when you and my best friend were together. I never would have thought…”

  “Our love died a long time ago, Frank,” she said, exhaling with exasperation. Her pallid eyes leveled at him, and he saw distance. They were the eyes of a dispassionate observer. “I stopped loving you years ago.” She turned to Tony, who looked back. “Tony and I have been seeing each other for longer than you think, Frank.”

  “Really?” And now he could feel himself going pale. “How long?”

  “You worked too hard, Frank. Too much time at church. You were never there for me…”

  “How long?” he demanded, teeth together.

  She smirked. “Almost two years.”

  “Almost two years…” he repeated. That night at the I-Ball? Tony worked in Los Angeles…how did they carry on their affair? Or did he work there? Tony’s divorce?

  The accumulation of lies from both of them began to tally. So many lies are required for infidelity. How many hundreds had both of them told him? One doesn’t carry on an affair without obfuscation. Little lies. Big lies. Misdirection. Truth is murdered, one cut at a time.

  “Yeah,” Tony said. “Sorry, man, but that’s just life sometimes.” Tony tried to appear smug.

  “Yeah, I see that.” Frank let it sink in for a minute. His smile was gone. He felt nauseated. Vertiginous.

  “Frank, you are a good man,” Michelle began her consolation, the last concession to the loser of the game. “You always took care of your family. Your church. You worked hard and never complained. But you were never home. I loved you once. So much. But I need more out of life than a provider. I need a man I’m passionate about. Our marriage was like a dead star…it took a while for us to see its passing, but it died ages ago.”

  And it all came to him. The half-smiles. The headaches. The distance. Visiting friends while he was at work. Asleep when he came to bed. Not in front of the kids. Too frequent periods. Skipping church to have lunch with her mother. Shopping with her sister. Her cousin in Fresno. Late-night chats with her friends. Can you watch the kids while I go over to Ellen’s? She’s going through a rough patch.

  The futility of it settled over him. Why fight it? She was gone, and cleaved to another man. Their love was indeed dead. It deserved a burial.

  “Okay, okay…” he began, still fighting the need to vomit. “I get it. You can have it all, Shelly. All. You can have the savings, 401k. House. Cars. Whatever you want. Call your lawyer in…I’ll sign. I don’t have money for support, but you can have everything else.”

  Tony and Michelle looked at each other, then back to Frank.

  “We can arrange visitation, if you want…”

  “No, you take them. It’s going to take me a while to get myself together.”

  “Thanks, Frank,” she started, “it’s the right thing…”

  “Fuck you, Shelly, you lying, cheating cunt,” he growled with grinding teeth and fury in his eyes. “Get your lawyer in here before I change my mind.”

  And they did.

  And he didn’t.

  IX

  “I’m sorry, sir, but your card isn’t working.”

  “Try it again, please.” He felt the hot stares on the back of his head. The line behind him was long.

  “I’ve tried it three times, sir. It rejects each time.”

  He could hear the exasperation behind him. A long line of people carrying far too many presents. He could feel the impatient shifting.

  “I’m telling you, this card should work. Please try it again.”

  “Okay, sir,” she said, but he could see her eye roll. She pressed the buttons, swiped the card, and waited. “Same issue again,” and she pushed the card back to him. He looked at the register and read $123.22. He pulled out his wallet. Only a few small bills. “Is that all, sir?” and now he could hear the mumbling behind him.

  “Look,” he said, “I know I have available credit on this card. I need these presents for my kids…” and then the chorus behind him became raucous.

  “C’mon, asshole…” someone shouted.

  Frank was relieved when a manager stepped to the counter. The young woman slid his items to the side as the manager moved to Frank.

  “What seems to be the problem, sir?” the manager asked, already agitated.

  “Hi, thanks for coming over.” He smiled at the manager but didn’t receive one in reply.

  “How can I help you, sir?”

  “I was trying to purchase these toys for my kids…Christmas in two days. There was a problem of some kind…my card wouldn’t read properly or something. But I know it works…”

  “I’m sorry, sir, she already attempted it…”

  “You’re not listening, sir,” Frank interrupted. “I have more than enough to cover this purchase. I need these gifts. I just need someone to call the bank and see…”

  “I’m sorry, sir. She tried multiple times…”

  Frank heard the people judging him as they were rung up next to him. Oh Christ, there’s always one, isn’t th
ere? Some people just can’t manage their money. Tell it to the Marines, pal.

  “You’re not listening to me!” Frank said loudly. The buzz next to him stopped. “Please, I’m just trying to get someone to do their job…”

  The manager waved to someone in the distance. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave our store.”

  He flushed again. “I’m the customer here. I just need you to do your fucking job…”

  And then there was a mall security guard next to him. He was thick, and he breathed through his mouth. Frank could smell his old sweat.

  “Sir, let’s take this outside,” the guard said.

  Frank looked at him. He already had a hand on the can of mace on his belt. He looked between the guard and the manager.

  Without a word, Frank turned to the door. As he began to walk, the security guard grabbed his upper arm, as if to push him toward the door. “I’m going, motherfucker!” he shouted and yanked his arm free. The buzz of judgment continued, and the guard’s boots thudded along with Frank as he reached the door out to the parking lot.

  “Have a nice day, sir,” the sneering guard said.

  Frank turned just outside the door. He extended his finger. “Go fuck yourself, mall cop! You’re doing this job because you can’t get anything else. You’re a loser!” He could feel his rage boiling inside him. The guard rested his hand on his baton and nodded his head at Frank.

  He turned and stormed off. He was in the parking lot, but he had parked on the other side of the mall. Fucking retail assholes. Who the fuck are they to judge me? I make more in an hour than they make all week. Used to…

  When he came to the mall’s side entrance, he could hear the incessant ringing of the Salvation Army Santa Claus. Even from a distance, the ring was intense. The sound was aggravating. As he grew closer, it grew earsplitting. He could feel his shoulders bunch up. He was flexing his hands. He jaw was working, grinding on his indignations.

  “Merry Christmas!” shouted Salvation Army Santa, in a fake Santa voice, and he rang the bell even louder as Frank approached. Frank was boiling in a stew of rage, and his face was aflame. “Ho, ho, hoooo!” bellowed Santa.