Grab the Groom Chapter 2 Part 2

Hortensia swiped her hand across the back of her mouth to remove the sticky drool. Kimmie was still tucked in the crook of her elbow, the imprint of the doll’s head pressed into the pudge of her upper arm. She blinked in the sunlight shining through the large windows and yawned. Her mouth was dry and her tummy, as usual, hungry.

Suzanne’s room in the office building was nice, a pretty yellow color. The couch was squooshy and had big pillows. The window’s light was soft through shades. A bookcase held as many kitty statues as books. The room had a kind feel, like “it’s okay to be a kid in here,” that the rest of the place—and most of her mommy’s house—didn’t have.

Getting even hungrier, Hort went to the desk and opened the drawers. The third one down on the right, the deep one, had a pile of granola bars. Probably healthy but not as much as her mommy’s food. Mommy said granola bars were just expensive candy.

Real candy, like Sour Patch Kids, were a lot tastier, but granola bars would have to do. She took one and used the butter-knife-looking thingie to tear the plastic. Dropping the wrapper on the floor, she crammed as much as would fit into her mouth and looked around the room.

The desktop held a big computer monitor. When she touched a key, it sprang to life, asking for a password. At home, her iPad used HORT. She tried but it didn’t work. That had been silly. Suzanne didn’t know Hort, though the doll had been just right for her. Why would her name be a password here?

When she was getting Hort ready to go, Mommy should have let her take the iPad so there was something fun to do. But instead, she’d snatched it away, saying, “That lazy sack of shit. You take electronics, he’ll let you play on them the whole time. Your father has no conscience.”

Hort didn’t know what ‘a conscience’ was, but it sounded bad when Mommy said that, like not having a leg or something. She really, really wanted her daddy to get one. Especially if it meant he’d love her enough to get a new iPad. Maybe she’d save her allowance and buy a conscience for him. Had to be less money than something electronic.

Mommy was busy throwing clothes into Hort’s suitcases. “That worm’s not getting out of one minute of daddy duty!”

Hort would be with her daddy for weeks! Weeks without Candy Crush? It would be awful. “Puh-leeze!, “ she begged, “Promise to just do educational!” but that hadn’t worked.

She did manage to smuggle a few books into the bottom of her case, including her favorite. Charlotte’s Web. The one with Wilbur, the pig, and the spider who shows the world how special he is. She read it herself a lot when nobody was looking. She didn’t want Mommy to know she could get through it by herself.

After packing the book she’d gone to her mommy’s room and opened the little bag holding the pills meant “to keep Mommy from having another little burden,” which Hort knew meant another kid like her. One pack almost finished, two brand-new. She’d left the open pack alone and carefully opened the new ones. Popping out the pills from their covering had been fun, like bubble wrap. They flushed down easy, and the covering had smoothed down pretty well. Good luck getting more in the middle of the ocean!

Out in the hall outside Suzanne’s room, photos of beautiful ladies hung on the walls, one after another, some prettier even than her mommy. They made her feel more worried about time with her daddy. Looking too long at them made her eyes feel tight and scratchy. She went back into Suzanne’s office, picked up the granola wrapper and put it in the trash can.

Thirsty, Hortensia stumbled out along the hall’s deep carpet, looking for a water fountain.

“You’re being sued for more child support. Not just by one of your kids’ mothers. By both.” His lawyer couldn’t keep the amused tone from his voice.

“Brad Junior’s mom, too? Coraline?” Coraline had married a billionaire! Apparently, money didn’t have the charm to soothe the silicone-enhanced breast of that savage beast.

And Ana Maria—she of the mouth-watering, cajeta-colored titties—was joining Coraline in holding him up for an increase? He knew what kind of bitch Coraline was but had thought better of Hortensia’s mother.

He could ill-afford to give more money to Ana Maria and Coraline. And what if others were conspiring, waiting in the wings? A film of sweat erupted on his brow. There seemed to be an open pit at his feet, leading to a hell suspiciously resembling San Bernardino.

“An additional contingency to little Hortensia’s visit…” The attorney cleared his throat, and then went silent. Another trick to squeezing more time out of the call: never finish a thought.

Ding! Brad had no choice but to play along. “What now?”

“You’ve got to care for the kid yourself. No leaving her in Los Angeles while you go away. Take her with you. It’ll be cheaper in the long run.”

“What the hell? Can she do that? Extort me?” Brad sighed. “Never mind. I get it—I’m screwed.”

A chuckle, hastily disguised as a cough, echoed in his ear. The attorney’s voice softened. “You really ought to keep it in your pants, Brad. Not that I don’t appreciate repeat business.”

Pity from a lawyer was always bad. Brad’s eyes rolled up toward the ceiling, only to drift downward, as if of their own accord, to rest on the empty picture frame he kept on his desk.

What the hell was he going to do, trailing a five-year-old kid around with him? He’d look like a schmuck. No matter, he was stuck unless he handed over everything he owned. “Send my assistant the details.”

A six-minute call. At six hundred dollars, the most expensive screw job Brad had ever experienced. And his lawyer hadn’t even undressed.