“Hope someone’s paying attention because that’s not gonna happen,” I noted.
“We’ll do our best to pay attention,” Mr. T confirmed and went on, “Now, you won’t feel that pinch but I’m sorry to say that, although your father provided a healthy stipend to Dana when he was still with us, and she didn’t use it indiscriminately so she has some resources, cases like these can drag out and those resources are not limitless. It may cause financial strain if we can’t get a judge to throw this out expeditiously.”
This, likely, being Luna’s plan. She hated Joss. She hated Dana. She hated Dad. She hated everybody except herself, and on occasion, she could show affection to Maverick, but only when she could use him to get something she wanted.
“I’ll cover Dana,” I said on a sigh.
“I suspected you would. I’ll share that with her and we’ll keep an accounting of that should it occur so you can be reimbursed when this sorry business is concluded.”
“Thanks, Mr. T.”
“I’m afraid I have more bad news.”
I kept my eyes on my view, the rays of the sun shafting through the trees, twinkling on the water of the river.
I still braced.
“And that is?” I prompted when Mr. T unusually did not dive right in. No procrastination for him, he got the bad stuff out of the way or any stuff he had to do and he did it with no delay.
“The documents we received have made special note that your brother is laying claim to the entirety of your father’s collection.”
My mind seized, every nerve ending screamed, I straightened away from the door with utterly no thought to where I was and who was with me as I shrieked, “You have got to be joking!”
“I’m sorry, Justice,” Mr. T said quietly, a careful edge to his tone which was almost soft with understanding. “I’m not joking.”
“That…is…fucking insane!” I shouted.
“Justice—”
I cut him off. “That’s not his. He knows that. He fucking knows!” I yelled, took a pace, found movement too difficult while my mind was gripped with agony at the very thought Mav would get hold of Dad’s collection, and I came to a juddering halt.
If Mav got Dad’s collection, that meant Luna would get hold of it and it was her that wanted it.
So she could sell it.
That collection being my father’s guitars. He had many. All of them used to create and make amazing music. Most of them used by him and then by me to teach me how to do the same.
And some of them were Granddad Jerry’s that Dad had inherited so he could have them, with the caveat he’d then leave them to me.
They were worth a fortune not only because they were awesome guitars but because they were Johnny or Jerry Lonesome’s guitars.
And now they were mine.
Dad tried to teach Mav how to play but my brother didn’t have it, that became apparent to them both quickly, but Dad didn’t give up on Mav. Dad felt (rightly) that his son didn’t have to have a gift to enjoy making music.
However, instead of sharing he just wasn’t into it, something that would make Dad back off, it aggravated Maverick. So he’d act out and storm off, being a little shit doing it. He’d even once thrown one, damaging it beyond repair.
And those guitars were what I was going to put in that space I wanted to be able to open so I could see them. So, when I had a mind to spend some time with my dad and my grandfather, I could open up that room and have them both with me.
Always they’d be there but whenever I wanted, I could spend some time with them.
“Justice, you must know that this is an exercise in futility for Maverick. He’ll never break that will,” Mr. T assured me.
I was not assured.
“I do not give that…first…shit,” I snapped. “He knows this is beyond the pale. He knows this is an asshole move that redefines asshole moves. He fucking knows.”
“Justice, please calm down,” Mr. T urged.
“I’m not gonna calm down,” I bit out. “The time for me to lose my calm was months ago when all this bullshit started. But, like always, I’m my father’s daughter and I wanted to hope for the best from my little brother. Dad died before Mav showed him what Dad believed he had in him all along. A decent bone in his entire body. I’m done waiting.”
“Justice, it’s important you allow me and your father’s attorneys to deal with this,” Mr. T told me.
“And I will, after I call that piece of shit and tell him I think he’s a piece of shit. Then I’m done with him. Done. For good and forever.”
“Justice—”
“Good-bye, Mr. T.”
“Jus—”
I hung up.
Then I engaged my contacts and listened to it ring through to Mav as my phone signaled. It signaling, I was sure, because Mr. T was calling me back.