Jack Who?

CHAPTER 8

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CUSTODY SETTLEMENT! A pulse began to loudly pound in her ears, and the sudden lightheartedness was not due to the ingested alcohol.

     “Rissa? Are you okay?” Olivia stooped to recover the sheets, which had fluttered to the floor, and swore, although cursing was something they never did around Tristan. “Shit! This is, this is…”

     Jolting to her senses, Marissa snatched the paper from her friend’s hand. Protectively, she folded Jack’s name from sight, although, if the swearing was any indication, it sounded like her secret was out.

     However, it was the smaller sheath that had Olivia gaping–the mentioned check. Marissa almost fainted in shock.

     The amount was generous beyond belief. As dictated by legal jargon, the money remained hers to keep no matter the outcome of the paternity test. Fortunately, it was drawn on the law firm account, and there was no ‘Jack Storm’ signature exposing a secret Marissa would soon be legally bound to keep.

     The money was enough to pay for his doctors, surgery, hospital stay, and allow for a top physical therapy program. Yet, if she cashed the check, did that create an obligation to go through with a custody hearing when the paternity test proved Jack to be Tristan’s father?

     “Rissa, this is wonderful!”

     Was it? It seemed like a curse in disguise of a blessing.

     Olivia was dancing around, and she griped because she wanted a celebration drink. Responsibly, in preparation for the drive home, Liv put her glass into the sink, ran water into it, and then turned. One hand settled determinedly on her hip. “It’s past time you give the deets on Russ.”

     “What?”

     Marissa’s exclamation did not stem from ignorance of the slang. Olivia often used deets for details and totes for totally, along with other talk that kept her a popular dealer with the younger crowd in the casino.

     “Give it up, Rissa. Is he the, you know,” dropping her voice to a whisper, Olivia continued, “sperm donor?”

     “You read my texts?” There was no alternative way anyone could know that unspoken name.

     “Surely you are not going to go ratchet after all this time!”

     Marissa continued to stare her friend down.

     “Alright, yes! A long time ago, I read your texts. You were asleep at my house and got a text really late. I was still awake and looked at it just in case it was a schedule change. It said, ‘Hi.’” Liv waved her hands. “Big deal.”

     Having committed those texts to memory, by reading them to herself so many times over the years, Marissa breathed a little easier. However, the relief she felt at thinking the snooping had stopped before the next text exchange, months later, was short-lived.

     “Then you clammed up about the ah, sperm donor. You were napping one day, and I looked at you all huge and prego, and I couldn’t stop myself. I checked your texts and calls for the month it would have happened, and I found that you and Russ had texted, and he sounded personal with you.”

     “Liv!” The intrusion of privacy was horrifying, only because of the situation. It wasn’t as if they had never spied in each other’s phones for one reason or another.

     “I’m really sorry!” In her friend’s agitation, both hands raised simultaneously tucking loose strands of blonde hair behind her ears. Finally, bringing her eyes to Marissa’s, she whined, “I’m your best friend. Why won’t you tell me who he is?”