“Awesome.” I was still muttering but now I was doing it sarcastically.
“This means your brother also can’t use his,” Mr. T pointed out.
I thought about how Luna had used her son to keep her living the good life, using him by flying through the divorce settlement in a couple of years, not getting a job and consistently threatening to take my father back to court in order to increase already substantial child support for a son they shared custody of so she could live off her kid’s back.
Dad didn’t make her take him back to court. To make things easier on Mav, he just increased the money.
That legal agreement had ended when Mav turned eighteen and didn’t go to college.
The situation didn’t end, however. Mav used his share of Granddad’s royalties as well the trust fund Dad set up for him to keep not only himself but his mom living the life they’d become accustomed to, but mostly, I figured, the life she’d become accustomed to.
To my knowledge, that trust fund was quickly dwindling, which was why Dad augmented Mav’s funds frequently, something Dana let slip one night before Dad died when she’d gotten a bit tipsy. Something Mr. T allowed to happen and followed through on because Dad said it would be so. Not like what had happened with Aunt Tammy and Rudy when they’d not only cut off Rudy’s access to his trust fund when he’d started pissing it away, they’d used a caveat in Granddad’s will to cut off his access to his share of Granddad’s royalties.
This, I suspected, was one of the reasons Luna and Mav were making the foolish play to try to get half of Dad’s estate.
The other reason was that Luna was just a greedy bitch.
“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.