It was time to hire an attorney.
Nine
After an extensive search, Jill and Ellie found a divorce attorney who seemed as though she wouldn’t shy away from a brawl, which was exactly what they needed. Her name was Phyllis Jessup and her website said she specialized in contentious divorce, which was what Jill suspected was heading her way. The website also promised a free consultation, which she needed because money was tight. The best part was that Phyllis happened to have a cancellation for that very afternoon, so Jill snapped it up.
Ellie drove them to a squatty brick building that required a key-code for entry. After the receptionist buzzed them in, they climbed a set of grungy stairs to a dank outer office. The receptionist escorted them to Phyllis’s office, and announced that their consultation time had started before shutting the door firmly behind her.
Phyllis Jessup was not the kind of attorney Jill had expected. Instead of a dark suit, silk blouse, pearls, and heels, Phyllis wore a rumpled pantsuit and kept an unlit cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. Jill would learn later that Phyllis had quit years before and kept the cigarette as a reminder. She had a sturdy build, a sharp expression, and looked as if she could hold her own in a bar fight. Best of all, Phyllis was competent and direct, exactly the sort of person you’d want in your lifeboat. Jill liked her immediately.
“Does Prince Charming have a police record?” Phyllis asked in a gravelly voice.
“Why? Is that important?” Jill asked.
“Not really, not unless he’s violated parole. Then he can be arrested, and sometimes a few days in a holding cell brings them to their senses.” Phyllis shrugged. “I have a friend connected with the state police—locking him up could be a good thing for you. You want me to check?”
Jill shook her head and Phyllis reluctantly returned her attention to the document.
“Mediation, huh?” she muttered to herself as she flipped the page. “Unusual choice.” She pursed her lips as she glared at the last page. “You signed this?”
“Yes.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes.”
“Were you of age?”
“I was.”
Phyllis heaved a disappointed sigh, then leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Remind me again how long you’ve been married to Mr. Wonderful?”
“Three ye—” Jill’s voice cracked unexpectedly so she tried again. “We were married three years ago.”
Phyllis’s eyes narrowed as she took Jill’s measure. Her chair creaked loudly as she leaned across her desk to lock eyes with Jill. “You always this mousy?”
“No.” Jill’s spine snapped in place and she returned the attorney’s gaze with one of her own. “No, I am not.”
“Good.”
“She’s been through a lot in the past week or so,” Ellie offered.
“She’s about to go through a lot more.” The pages of the document fluttered as Phyllis tossed the packet across her desk. “Whoever drafted this contract wrote it with divorce in mind. Did you read it before you signed it?”
Jill shook her head.
“How old were you when you signed this contract?”
“Twenty-three.”
“That’s out then. Thought I could work the minor angle, but you’re right, you were of age. Signature’s legal.” Phyllis puffed her cheeks with air then let it out in a steady stream. She swiveled her chair away slightly and stared out the window.
“Should I hire you to help me through this? Marc has an attorney, and I don’t. I’m worried.” Jill glanced at the clock. The free consultation was almost over, and Jill didn't want to lose Phyllis’s help. She had no idea where the money would come from to pay her, only that she’d find it. “It looks like this hearing might be difficult.”
“Yeah, I think so too, but I couldn’t represent you even if I wanted to. This prenup says defendants must represent themselves. It’s almost as if Prince Charming expected this outcome,” Phyllis answered, almost to herself. “There’s a clause that says you both agree to the first available judge in the pool—which is always a crapshoot—and agree to be bound by his ruling, whatever it is. Usually judges give each party a chance to respond and to amend their complaint. This one specifically forbids it, which is concerning.” Suddenly, Phyllis swiveled back. “Where you from?”
“South Jersey. Asbury Park.”
“Thought so. I can see a tiny bit of that in you.” Phyllis nodded, the beginning of a smile spreading across her face. “Despite your fancy clothes, you look like you might know from scrappy. Like you won’t back down from a fight. Is that accurate?”
“I think so.”
“You need to know so. This prenup is an issue.” Phyllis jabbed her finger at the contract. “I’m willing to bet that the guy who wrote this is used to dealing dirty and that you can expect more of the same when you meet with the judge.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “The judge’ll do his best to stop anything blatantly unfair, but he can’t reverse time. If he could, I’d tell you not to sign that thing in the first place.”
Jill glanced at the clock. They were seventeen minutes into the twenty-minute consultation and there were still so many questions to ask.
“Should we arrange a longer appointment? I’m happy to pay.” She’d find the money somehow.
“Wouldn’t help you.” Phyllis pointed to the registered letter Jill had brought to the meeting. “According to that little beauty, the judge has been selected and mediation is scheduled for the end of this week. Even if I wanted to help you—and I do—I couldn’t pull anything together in time. I have other clients who need my help too.” She leaned forward, a scowl etched on her face. “When a divorce is pushed through quickly, it gets me thinking, and this one seems
