Acrimonious

(Remington Family Law Series, Book 1)

Chapter 1

An arduous schedule for the day ran through Julian Remington’s mind as he took care of some personal business first thing in the morning.

In. Out. Back in. Deeper this time. A hard push that drew a satisfied moan from his eager partner.

McDavid custody hearing first thing after months of wrangling. Partner meeting mid-morning if he made it back from court in time. New client meeting over lunch. Court at four with Jenna Simsbury, who should get full custody of her three children as of today, again after months of negotiations. A three-hour gig with his band at eight would round off a sixteen-hour day. Any number of other things might arise to make an already chaotic day even more interesting.

As a partner at Remington Family Law, Julian never knew what to expect from one day to the next, and he liked it that way. He could be hit with anything from an emergency custody hearing to a call from one of Hollywood’s A-list stars looking for help with a divorce that’d drag on for years to one of the firm’s longtime clients seeking visitation with a grandchild.

Sharp fingernails dug into his back as he picked up the pace, ready for the big finish so he could get on with what promised to be another long, complicated day in his life as one of LA’s top family law attorneys.

He doubled down on the deep strokes, going for broke. Come on, let’s get this done.

She went off with a shout, which gave him permission to take his own pleasure. “Oh, oh, Julian… Oh God, I love you.”

He stopped short. She what? No, no, nope. He abruptly withdrew from her.

She pushed silky dark hair off her stunning face. “What? Julian…”

He’d already dealt with the condom, had his pants on and was buttoning his shirt.

“Where’re you going?”

“To work.”

“But we were…”

“We’re done.”

Her big blue eyes got even bigger. “Th-this time or for good?”

“Remember when we started this, and I said it was just for fun? When I told you not to get attached?”

Her eyes filled with tears that he so did not want to deal with. “I… I didn’t mean it.”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “you did, or you wouldn’t have said it.”

“I take it back.”

Julian reached for her hand and kissed the back of it. “You need to find yourself a nice guy who’s available for the things you want. That guy isn’t me.”

Her lip quivered as more tears filled her eyes. “But it could be. We’re good together.”

“We’re good together in bed.”

“Isn’t that the best place to start?”

“It’s not going to happen. I’ve said that from the beginning when I told you I don’t do relationships.”

“Yes, but I thought—”

He placed a finger lightly on the full lips that had brought him real pleasure, but not true love. Never that. “You thought wrong.”

She was crying openly now.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I was honest from the start about what this was—and what it wasn’t.”

“You care about me, too. I can tell! Why won’t you let yourself have feelings?”

He didn’t have time to deal with a question that’d take all day to answer. “Because I don’t want to. I’ve got court in an hour. I’ve got to go.”

Julian had just enough time to run home to shower and change. His driver, Ernie, would pick him up at home and get him to the Stanley Mosk Courthouse downtown for a trial he’d been working toward for a year. He couldn’t wait to present their case and to watch his client’s ex-husband’s face when they presented new and irrefutable proof of his douchebaggery. While that wasn’t an official legal term, it should be. Bryan McDavid was the poster child for the concept.

Stacey got out of bed and followed him to the door, grabbing his arm. “You can’t just dismiss me like hired help when you’re finished with me.” The angry edge to her voice was new and unattractive.

When he turned to face her, he saw she was naked as the day she was born, with her considerable assets on full display. Those assets did nothing to change his mind. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

The tears had dried up, and she seethed with outrage. “I said something I didn’t mean. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Take care of yourself, Stacey. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Julian!”

She was still screaming his name from her doorway when the elevator doors quietly came together to get him out of there.

Julian leaned against the back wall, closed his eyes and sighed over yet another near miss. Why did they never believe him when he told them—in the bluntest possible words—that he’d never fall in love with them, he’d never marry them or be anything more to them than a hard cock once in a while? Why did they always want more?

What else could he have done or said to prevent this latest in a long list of scenes that occurred whenever he had to remind a woman that he was exactly who he’d said he was from the get-go?

Most people spent their lives waiting and hoping to hear those three little words. For Julian, his brothers and sisters, they were the worst three words in the English language to receive from a romantic partner. Love, as they’d experienced it, was a battlefield, a place where people tore apart those supposedly dearest to them on their way out the door.

No, thank you.

The Remington siblings wanted nothing to do with that four-letter word. The other one, the less socially acceptable four-letter word? They were all for that one, but when L-O-V-E entered the room, they were out the door so fast, the heads of their now-former partners were left spinning as the Remingtons hit the road and never looked back.

Maybe Julian should’ve clued Stacey in to what he was thinking about when they were fucking. He should’ve told her he was reviewing his schedule for the day and making a mental list of things he needed to do ahead of each appointment.

Then she’d know what a heartless bastard he really was and would realize she could do better.

After a quick stop at home to shower, shave and change into one of the bespoke suits he was known for, Ernie picked him up for court, the one place in the world where everything made sense to him. That’s where he helped his clients get out of the very thing Stacey wanted with him. It’s where he negotiated the future for innocent children who’d become pawns in their parents’ wars, the way he and his siblings had once been.

Ernie handed Julian a tall Americano with oat milk, while getting in a swipe about the death-defying curves on Laurel Canyon Boulevard that he bitched about any time he had to come up to Julian’s house. At nearly seventy, Ernie was a proud Vietnam veteran who still wore a missing-in-action bracelet on the wrist of his tattooed forearm. He’d been a nineteen-year-old Marine when he was sent to the jungles of Vietnam to fight a war that’d never made sense to him or most of the guys he served with. He’d tell you they’d served their country and would do it again, despite the decades of PTSD most of them had lived with, not to mention the less-than-welcoming reception they received when they’d first returned home.

These days, Ernie hung his hat, as he put it, in a “shack by the sea” in Venice with his girlfriend and loved his job as Julian’s driver.

“Thanks,” Julian said for the coffee Ernie bought for both of them any time he picked Julian up at home.

“How was your night?” Ernie asked.

“Better than my morning.”

Ernie glanced at him in the mirror. “How’ve you already had a shitty morning?”

“Had to give Stacey the bad news that I meant it when I said I don’t do relationships.”

“Ah, and I take it that went over well?”

“As it usually does.”

“Like a fart in church?”

Ernie always made him laugh, even when he didn’t want to. “Something like that.” Another thing he loved about Ernie was that he knew when Julian needed quiet to prepare for the day. Today, he was more interested in brooding than preparing, thanks to the scene with Stacey, which had upset him the way it always did when things went sideways with a woman.

Julian often suspected that eight out of the nine Remington siblings had gone to law school just so they’d never again find themselves helpless the way they’d been as children. For ten long years, they’d been the knotted rope in a tug of war between their parents that’d seemed like it would never end. Their lawyer parents had been focused on winning at all costs, regardless of the fallout for their children.

When it finally ended, no one was a winner, least of all their kids. Julian and each of his siblings carried the trauma of that interminable, ugly, public nightmare with them as they helped others disentangle themselves from commitments they’d once expected to last forever. The aftermath had been made worse, if that was possible, by the reality TV show their parents agreed to after the case was settled, claiming it’d be good for business.

While the show had, in fact, been great for business, it’d been mortifying to their children, especially Julian, the eldest, who’d been in high school then.

If there was one thing he and his siblings had learned the hard way, and had seen time and again in their practices, it was that nothing lasted forever, and it was far easier to be alone than to get involved in something you couldn’t walk away from when it no longer worked for you.

He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like to be married to Stacey, or any of the others who’d come before her, when he decided he didn’t want to be there anymore. No way would he ever let that happen. Being able to walk away—any time he wanted, with his head held high and his conscience clear—was key to his survival in the fucked-up world in which he lived and worked. Every day, he witnessed what people who were once madly in love did to destroy each other—and the children they swore they loved more than life itself. He’d found that most didn’t love their kids nearly as much as they hated their ex.

Julian wanted nothing to do with that for himself, and neither did his siblings. While they enjoyed bickering with each other as if it were a blood sport, that was the one thing they all agreed on.

After seeing his one serious ex-girlfriend, Aimee Godfrey, recently at her parents’ fiftieth anniversary celebration, Julian had been deeply unsettled to realize the feelings he’d once had for her were still there. They’d resurfaced from the deepest, darkest corners of his soul to remind him of how helpless love could make you, especially when it didn’t work out.

Aimee was long married to a guy named Trent Morgan, who worked in finance and was some sort of whiz kid when it came to investing, or so he’d heard. They had three beautiful kids, a son and two daughters, and a happy life that seemed to suit her.

She’d gotten lucky.

Julian made a lucrative living off the fact that most people were unhappy and not afraid to do whatever was necessary to get free of the person they’d supposedly loved with all their heart once upon a time.

Being alone was better than taking a gamble that more than half the time ended in expensive failure. The Remington siblings had seen what that kind of failure looked like up close and personal, and they were all set, thank you very much.

Stacey would be okay. She’d find a nice guy who wanted a white picket fence in the burbs and a posse of kids.

That man was not, and would never be, Julian Remington.

An hour later, Julian was in Los Angeles County Superior Court, listening to Bryan McDavid and his attorney extol Bryan’s many virtues as an involved, caring, safety-conscious parent who should share in joint custody with his soon-to-be ex-wife and Julian’s client, Rachel McDavid. Because he had all the evidence he needed to bury Bryan, Julian let him and his windbag attorney, Thomas Driscoll, have the floor for the first thirty minutes of the hearing.

Rachel wanted sole custody of their two sons due to Bryan’s angry outbursts that regularly frightened her and her children, among other concerns that Julian would bring to light when it was his turn to present their side of the argument.

Bryan had been unwilling to engage in mediation and had demanded a trial when the matter could’ve been quietly settled out of court for much less than the trial would cost them both financially and personally.

Nothing about this proceeding would be quiet, if Julian had his way.

Driscoll went on and on about the character references he’d obtained for Bryan, who was, by all accounts, an upstanding member of the community, a dedicated father to their two young sons and a well-respected auditor, expected to make partner at his CPA firm within the year.

“Mr. Remington and his client would have you believe that Mr. McDavid is one step above a deadbeat, when there’s ample evidence to the contrary. He should have shared custody of his sons and a reasonable visitation schedule. Thank you, Your Honor.”

Judge Michael Fallows glanced at Julian to give him the floor.

He’d been looking forward to this moment as he stood to hand one set of copies to Driscoll and another set to the judge. “Your honor, some new information has come to light in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Objection,” Driscoll said. “We’ve heard nothing about any new information.”

“We only found out about it yesterday,” Julian said. “And it’s highly relevant to the matter before the court.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge said.

Turning to face Bryan McDavid, he said, “Do you recognize these posts?”

On each page was a post made to an X profile called Ramblr26, calling out Rachel as a neglectful mother and cheating wife.

“If you encounter Rachel McDavid,” Julian read from his copy as he watched Bryan begin to shift in his seat the way people did when they knew what was coming, “you should be aware that she presents herself to be one thing, when she’s someone else entirely. She opens her legs to anyone who asks and doesn’t give a shit where her kids are when she’s doing it.”

Fallows looked to Bryan, his expression full of shock and disbelief.

Excellent.

“Th-that’s not me.” Bryan directed a hard, hateful stare at Rachel, who kept her gaze focused straight ahead the way Julian had told her to. “I have no idea who that is. Could be anyone with the way she gets around.” He had close-cropped blond hair, cold blue eyes, a goatee and a chip on his shoulder so big, it took up all the extra space in the courtroom.

“Is this your address?” Julian asked as he dropped another sheet of paper on the table in front of Bryan.

Bryan leaned in for a closer look. “You know it is. It’s all over the divorce paperwork.”

Julian approached the bench to deliver additional documents. “Your Honor, we’ve tied the IP address for Ramblr26’s accounts to Mr. McDavid’s home.” His team had worked until late the night before connecting the IP address to Bryan.

With a glance toward Bryan and his attorney, the judge reached for the documents while Julian sat back to watch the show. The only thing that would’ve made this better was popcorn.

While the judge reviewed the vicious, foul things Ramblr26 had written about the mother of his children, Driscoll leaned in to confer with Bryan in frantic-sounding whispers.

They’d learned about the posts from a mom at the boys’ school, a woman Rachel had never met, who’d called yesterday to tell her what was being said about her online. When Rachel relayed the information to Julian, she’d been so full of outrage and disbelief that the man she’d once loved, to whom she’d given two beautiful sons, would say such vile things about her publicly when none of it was true. She’d never once cheated on him, but he sure as hell couldn’t say the same.

Julian had proof of that, too, thanks to his investigator brother Carson, who’d put together a full report on Bryan’s extracurricular activities over the last four years. That report had been made available to Bryan’s team during discovery.

Julian didn’t care for the way Bryan was glaring at Rachel, clearly trying to intimidate her into backing down.

Not on his watch.

“Your Honor, this new information, coupled with the investigative report into Mr. McDavid’s extramarital affairs over the last four years, paint a damning portrait of a man who has no business being anywhere near two impressionable young boys. In our opinion, the boys would be detrimentally affected by spending time with a man who speaks so disparagingly about their mother online and conducts extramarital affairs so frequently, we wonder how he’d find the time to care for his kids.”

Bryan surged to his feet so quickly, his chair went crashing into the half wall behind him. “You fucking bitch!”

“Mr. Driscoll, please remind your client that language and behavior is not acceptable to this court, and unless he’d like me to end this right now without any further input from your side, he’ll sit down and stop taking. If you continue to cause a disruption, Mr. McDavid, I’ll have you removed from this courtroom.”

Driscoll moved quickly to retrieve the chair and plopped Bryan’s ass back in it before he made things worse.

Under the table, Julian put his hand over Rachel’s, which was cold and trembling. He’d told her ahead of time what he planned to do and warned her to be ready for Bryan to get ugly. But how could anyone prepare to have the person they’d once loved enough to marry and have children with talk to them that way in public?

Bryan was breathing hard and nearly foaming at the mouth with rage.

Good, Julian thought as he stared him down, let the judge see how he behaves when he’s angry. Maybe he’ll grant our request for full custody with a domestic violence restraining order that’ll keep him the hell away from her and their kids.

After about ten tense minutes, the judge put down the documents and looked at Bryan. “This new information, in addition to what I’ve already read in the file, leaves me with no choice in this matter. The horrible, hateful things you’ve said online about Mrs. McDavid, even if every word was true, are so revolting that I agree with Mr. Remington that joint custody is not in your sons’ best interest. Sole custody is hereby awarded to Mrs. McDavid, and I’m approving the request for a domestic violence restraining order that’ll prevent you from coming within one thousand feet of your wife and sons. You’re also required to immediately surrender any firearms you may have in your possession.”

Bryan let out a cry of anguish. “I never laid a hand on them!” He glanced frantically at his attorney. “How is this domestic violence?”

“Abuse doesn’t have to be physical in nature to count as domestic violence, Mr. McDavid,” the judge added. “Your behavior has disturbed the peace of your ex-wife and sons, which is a qualifying factor.”

“But I never hit her! She’s lying if she says I did!”

Driscoll told him to be quiet.

“I hereby grant Mrs. McDavid sole custody of the minor children as well as child support in the amount of three thousand dollars per month, due on the first day of each month, and spousal support in the amount of one thousand dollars, due concurrently. The child support, in the amount of fifteen hundred dollars per child, will continue until the children reach the age of eighteen. The spousal support will end only if Mrs. McDavid remarries. The decree will be final sixty days from today, with the initial payment for child support due on the first of next month. Spousal support will begin thirty days after the divorce is final. If you violate the restraining order, you’ll be arrested and charged. Am I clear on that?”

Bryan was now softly sobbing as tears ran down his face. “You’re really going to take my kids from me after everything she’s done to me?”

“She hasn’t done anything to you, Mr. McDavid,” Julian said, “other than be a faithful, loving wife and mother. You’re the one who filed for divorce, refused to engage in mediation and then took to social media to air your made-up grievances against the mother of your children. If you’re looking for someone to blame, you might want to consult a mirror.”

“Fuck you, you slick piece of shit.”

“Mr. McDavid,” the judge said, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from your wife and children.”

Bryan glared at Rachel. “This isn’t over. Count on that, bitch.”

“Mr. Driscoll, please inform your client that he can be arrested for threatening Mrs. McDavid and let him know that this is, in fact, over. You can petition the court in twenty-four months to possibly modify the restraining order and revisit visitation with your children. I suggest you use that time wisely and invest in anger management classes if you hope to convince the court to allow you to see your sons.”

“Twenty-four months?” Bryan asked on a scream. “I can’t see them for two years?”

“Based on the things you posted about the mother of your children, I wouldn’t let you care for my dog,” Julian said. “You’re lucky it’s only two years.”

“Thank you for your input, Mr. Remington,” the judge said sarcastically. “Mrs. McDavid, you may leave the courtroom at this time. Mr. McDavid, you will wait for fifteen minutes before you leave. We are in recess.”

As the judge got up to leave the room, Bryan said, “I don’t get to say anything? You’re just taking my kids away for two fucking years and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

Driscoll took hold of Bryan’s arm to drag him to the back of the courtroom.

As Julian led Rachel from the room, they could hear every word Bryan was saying to his lawyer about this being total bullshit and how he was going to sue everyone involved.

“Do you have somewhere safe you can go until he’s formally served with the protection order?” Julian asked Rachel when they were outside.

“I… I’m not sure there’s anywhere safe. He knows all my friends and family.”

“What can I do for you?”

She shook her head and pulled another tissue from her pocket. “I don’t know what to say. I got what I wanted, but at what price? I’ll have to keep one eye over my shoulder and worry every second my kids aren’t with me.”

“As much as I hate to say this, it might be a good idea to relocate somewhere new. We can help you legally change your name and the kids’ names.”

She nodded, but exhaustion clung to her like a wet blanket after years of dealing with Bryan and his rage while trying to keep herself and her young sons safe.

“Come back to my office, and let’s figure out your next steps.”

“Thank you for everything you did to help me,” she said, looking devastated despite her “victory.”

“Of course. That’s my job.”

“You do it very well.”

“We try.”

As he escorted her to her car, Julian was on full alert for trouble. He had a bad feeling that they hadn’t seen the last of Bryan McDavid.