Squeak

Skip Tracing

Erik

"This was what I wanted to discuss with you. I know I've been on a stay-at-home-mother kick, but Izabel is in school, and you don't want another child right now. I always excelled at skip tracing when I worked for Brooks and Associates. It was my thing. If someone needed to be located, they came knocking on my door. And to be perfectly honest, I loved it."

I threw my chopsticks down on my plate. My appetite was officially gone. I tugged on Izabel's jacket, returning her to her seat. While I was distracted, she stood on the bench, dancing like she was on Soul Train.

"I thought this child was well-behaved."

"She is, but she's excited. Her father was released from prison, and she's on a European vacation with all the people she loves. She's going on a train ride across Europe tomorrow and going to Disneyland. Give her a little grace, King. Also, this is your fault. I warned you she was sensitive to sweets, but you refused to listen."

"Noted. Jezebel, explain to me why you worked as hard as you did to obtain a law degree only to become a bounty hunter instead of working at another firm or going into business for yourself."

"I didn't plan to become a bounty hunter, and I already explained that I didn't want to start from the bottom again. How many people would hire a brand-spanking new attorney to represent them?" I opened my mouth to speak when she cut me off. "I'd slit my wrist before I became a public defender."

"Public defenders are essential," I said, trying to reason with her.

"Essential yet underpaid and overworked."

"Being a bounty hunter is a dangerous profession. What if you get injured or, worse, killed?"

"All jobs are dangerous professions. You could be a truck driver and get killed in an accident. You could be a teacher and be killed by a student. You could be a cashier at a grocery store, and a guy with a gun—"

"I get it. I get it. I get it. However, what you fail to realize, sweetheart, is that being a bounty hunter comes with extra risks. You're hunting down fugitives who don't want to be found and will do everything within their power to keep it that way. You're also putting our family at risk of retaliation. My vote is no."

"It's good money," she insisted.

"We have enough money."

"I'd run a high-profile bounty agency that focuses on international fugitives. You receive 35% of the bail for fugitives who duck internationally."

"No."

"I think having a chaplain on staff would be beneficial. I'm sure you could talk them down better than me."

I snorted.

She's gaslighting me. Jezebel knows she can spin a web of lies and manipulation like nobody else.

"No," I said firmly. "Help Frankie with managing the properties if you need a break from the mundane, but this bounty-hunting shit is not happening."

"I think you should sleep on it, King."

"There's nothing to sleep on."

"I don't have to get my hands dirty. I'd focus on the administrative side and the skip tracing. Realistically, we'd hire a team to do the grunt work like ex-Special Forces and intelligence. Think about it, King."

I turned to Jezebel and made my words very clear. "Not everything is about money, Squeak. You need therapy to deal with your money scarcity issues from childhood. You grew up comfortable but never had access until I came along. I bet you were afraid to ask your dad for money because you knew a condition would be attached to it." Her eyes glistened with pain, and I felt like shit, but it needed to be said. "I'm not trying to be a dick, but going to law school and becoming a bounty hunter is insane to me. That's like becoming a doctor and then quitting to become a medical billing coder," I scoffed.

"Okay."

Okay, what? Where's the rest?

"Okay?" I echoed.

"Okay," she repeated.

"Again, I'm not trying to be a dick, but this seems manic. One minute, you're a lawyer; the next, you want to be a stay-at-home mom, and now, you want to be a bounty hunter. This seems scattered and disorganized, and I don't think you've put as much thought into this as you should. You're flying by the seat of your designer jeans, Squeak. Everything changed for you in less than a week on top of losing Izabel, and I think you're losing your firm grip on reality. Just breathe."

Jezebel laughed, grabbed her purse, and stood from the table.

She's cutting and running...great.

"You know what I find ironic about this situation? You're okay with me getting a law degree and wasting my talents on being a stay-at-home mother, but not getting a law degree and using the skills I learned to pursue other interests. Yes, there may be some danger to it, but being a lawyer also comes with some retaliatory risks. What if I get some perp off for a crime, and one of the victim's disgruntled family members comes and takes me out? There are videos of judges getting attacked on the bench with security present. Being inside of a courtroom doesn't guarantee your safety. But fine, we'll trump this up to my childhood trauma and forget I ever said anything. I'll just use my law degree and experience to cut the crust off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and do your laundry."

We're not getting anywhere, and this train will fly off the tracks if I don't get things under control.

I stood, towering over her tiny frame. "Jezebel, I've upset you, but I do not feel that I am out of order for having concerns. I love you, and I'll support your reasonable endeavors, but I feel there are other opportunities out there for you that you haven't taken the time to explore. We can research other law firms together and find the one that suits you. Who knows, you might not have to start from the bottom. Maybe I can coerce your former employer to give you a rave recommendation."

That made her crack a smile. "You can't always threaten people to get what you want."

"Who said anything about threats? I didn't say that."

"It was implied," she said.

"Implied doesn't mean applied. I might change my mind along the way."

"Okay, King."

I smirked.

There it is.

I pulled out my wallet and took out some cash. "You've had a long few days, Squeak. How about you take a cab back to the hotel, grab a bath, and hit the hay?"

Some alone time might help her self-reflect and come to her senses. I'll broach the subject of couples counseling later because we'll never work out if we can't be on the same page. And it's not her fault. Jezebel still remembers the Old Erik—the one that just wanted to fuck shit up and watch the world burn, the one that would've catapulted at the opportunity to jump into the bounty-hunting business. But that's not me anymore—not entirely. The New Erik just wants to enjoy his post-incarceration life without complications and threats hanging above our heads. She's still in survival mode from me being gone, but truthfully, she's always been in survival mode. That's all she knows. I feel that this bounty-hunting business goes deeper. I feel like we're locked in this power struggle, and she's having difficulty trusting me and handing over the reins.

She took the money and stuffed it into her purse. "It has been a long day. Don't stay out too late with Izabel. We have a train to catch in the morning."

"We'll be back in an hour."

She nodded. She attempted to say bye to Izabel by waving to her, but the child was in her own world, pop-locking at the table.

She definitely didn't get that from her grandparents.

"Fuck it. I'll see y'all later," she said.

"I love you," I said, kissing her cheek.

"I love you, too."

I watched her leave the restaurant until I heard, "Daddy Erik! The avocado is hot!"

I turned to Izabel and found tears streaming from her eyes and snot running out of her nose. She was cartoonishly fanning her tongue, and the pile of wasabi was missing from her plate.

Fuck me.

06/02/2024