that was my biggest worry. Tyler didn’t seem worried, but I was. I didn’t want this to blow back on Nobody’s Fool, and my gut told me it would. It probably had already started. Every day that passed with no word about the demo tape told me this was going to go wrong.
The ringing of my phone interrupted my thoughts and I frowned at the Los Angeles exchange. No one from the record company or in my father’s employ had my new number, and I’d left my old phone in Las Vegas. I hesitated but finally answered, more out of curiosity than anything else.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Ariel Fox? This is Madeline Aronson.”
“Oh! Hello.” I’d almost forgotten about the lawyer Casey had reached out to on my behalf.
“I thought perhaps we should chat. Is this a good time?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’d like for us to get together. Based on what Casey told me, I have a feel for your situation, but it’s hard for me to get any information without having you officially sign on as a client.”
“Can we do it via email? I’m out of the country right now.”
“You’re out of the country?” She sounded surprised. Hadn’t Casey told her I was in Limaj?
“I’m in Limaj,” I said after a slight hesitation. “My father was threatening to institutionalize me again, so Casey sent the jet for us and we left.”
“That probably wasn’t the smartest move,” she said after a moment. “You’ve literally just given your father the ammunition he needs to show you’re out of control. Between the photos of you leaving Club Inferno and then you jumping on a private jet to leave the country, your father can make a case for you being manic, on the verge of spiraling.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” I protested. “I’m fine. Tyler and I are hanging out, writing music, just being—”
“Reality makes zero difference,” she said, interrupting. “The only thing that matters in cases like this are perception. And right now, the public’s perception of you isn’t great.”
My stomach lurched, like it had been doing repeatedly lately, and I didn’t know what to do. “So, what can we do to fix it?” I finally asked.
“Are you interested in hiring me?”
“I am, but you have to understand I don’t have access to money right now. I can’t pay you.”
“Casey has guaranteed payment, and frankly, with what I know so far, I’m going to tear that conservatorship up into tiny little pieces before I’m through, so I’m not particularly worried about that part of it.”
“Oh.” She caught me off guard. “Well, that sounds wonderful.”
“If you have time, let’s hash out some details then.”
“Sure. What do you need from me?”
“Everything.” She paused. “I’m going to email some paperwork for you to sign, because I don’t have access to anything without it, and if you sign right away, I can get the information I need. Do you have a copy of the conservatorship?”
“I don’t have access to anything like that from here—it’s all in a safety deposit box in Los Angeles—including the physical evidence I’ve gathered.”
“You have physical evidence?” Madeline sounded intrigued.
“Printed copies of threatening texts and emails, evidence of hidden bank accounts, all kinds of stuff.”
“Yet another reason you need to be back in California.”
“I’m not safe from him in the U.S., and until we have a court date, I feel like I need to be here.”
“We’ll talk about this again in a little while, but for now, I need you to tell me everything. From the beginning. With every detail you can think of.”
“Sure.” I glanced over at Tyler, who’d been listening since I put the call on speaker, and he nodded.
I was on the phone with Madeline for three hours. With a ten-hour time difference, it was the middle of the night for her, but she didn’t seem to mind. And by the time we hung up, I had hope. She seemed to know her shit and was already talking about having me re-evaluated by a psychiatrist she knew, using people like the Queen of Limaj as a character reference, and my exemplary behavior the last seven years as proof I was capable of having my freedom.
“So why don’t you look happy?” Tyler asked when we finally hung up.
“She made it sound like we had a good shot, but there aren’t any guarantees. Even though I’ve had no issues in almost eight years, the judge could take that as a result of my father’s management of my care.”
“Right, but you can’t think that way.”
“It’s