Lennon's Jinx by Chris Myers

Ebola? I don’t think so.” Though I have to admit the roses got to
me. After having a lousy night, they perked up my day.
    “He
really is completely harmless,” Rena says.
    I
beg to differ. No guy is harmless. They’re the aggressors. They’re never forced
into doing something they don’t want to do because you can’t rape the willing.
And Lennon is plenty willing.
    As
he gets into his SUV, I wonder if he remembers. When I first came here in sixth
grade, the kids taunted me over my name. My real dad gave it to me.
    Kids
can be relentless. Lennon overheard them harassing me, calling me Jinxy-poo and
saying I’m jinxed. He told them to fuck off. He received a detention for using
the “f” word. I’ve never forgotten it, and the other kids left me alone after
that, so I can’t really say he’s all bad.
    He
still shouldn’t have been half-naked at my party in my dad’s den.
    “Are
you spending the night?” Rena asks me.
    Rena
knows me too well.
    “Not
tonight,” I say. “I’m auditioning for a keyboardist.”
    “Awesome.
What band?”
    “None
listed.”
    “You’ll
do great,” Rena says. “What are you going to wear?”
    “Something
that will get me hired.”
    She
eyes me with concern. “Do you want me to come?”
    I
do, but I need to get past what happened to me. How will I live on my own if I
don’t? “That’s okay.” I hand her the address. “Just send the search plane if I
don’t come back.”

 
CHAPTER SIX
LENNON
     
    With my right leg jiggling, I sit
on the edge of an Italian leather sofa at the main office of Gold and Leigh
Investment Banking.
    The
secretary waves me over. “You can go in now, Mr. Tyler.”
    When
I enter her office, Clive’s mom gestures to yet another supple leather
armchair. “Take a seat, Lennon.”
    I
do as she says. “Are we ready to serve Jonathan on my eighteenth birthday?”
    “Yes,
we are. You really need a lawyer specializing in family law. Do you still want
me to proceed with your case?”
    Mrs.
Beckham studied financial law, but unlike the other attorneys I spoke with, I
trust her. “I want you.”
    “As
you requested, I talked to your mother, and she agrees that you are the best
guardian for Currie.” She shakes her head. “That makes me sad for the two of
you.
    “My
friend in family law has reviewed your petition for custody,” she continues. “She
brought up a few concerns I’d like to share with you.”
    I
have a few of my own. My leg starts to shake again. “All right.”
    She
sits on the edge of her desk with her hands folded across her knee-length
skirt. “If you cut off Currie from your father, she may revolt against you. It
could cause issues with your relationship with her.”
    “I’m
willing to take that risk to protect her.”
    “Your
father willingly gave child support without a court order. You may want to
negotiate with him prior to taking legal action.”
    Mrs.
Beckham is not so subtly reminding me that Jonathan transferred two million to
my trust upon being served for child support. He then agreed to give Currie and
me eighty thousand a month, much more than I had asked for. But I know him
better than Mrs. Beckham. He was buying my silence.
    “Jonathan
has been cooperative so far,” she says.
    I
rise from the chair and pace, huffing out a nervous breath for what I’m about
to say. Bile rises in my throat. “My ass is scarred from being left in diapers
too long. I practically starved. I got food poisoning from eating out of our
garbage, not to mention the cocaine coffee table and the naked assess I had to
navigate on the living room floor. Currie deserves the childhood I never had.”
    Mrs.
Beckham inhales sharply, trying to conceal her shock. It’s not working. “I
realize that you took care of Currie for many years and still do, but your
father has never given up his visitation rights, and he pays child support. He
also has gone through rehab.”
    My
heart rate picks up. “He’s done that before and slipped back to