Page 46 of Blitz
“I’m trusting you with this, but I need help.”
“Pregnancy? Drugs? DUI?”
My mouth fell open. “God no. None of the above. I know you won’t be able to help, but I needed to tell someone, and?—”
“Spit it out, Mr. Harrington, surprise me.”
“Call me Trick, please.” I passed her my copy of the emancipation deal I’d signed at sixteen. “My father’s people handled this. I wish I could say I didn’t know what I was signing, but I did. I knew that if I didn’t sign, they’d release information about what they called my deviancies, and I’d never have the chance to get away, and worse, things about my mom that would put her suicide front and center.”
She didn’t flinch, only nodding as she listened, not looking at the contract.
“Half of everything I make goes to the ministry. And my agent, again connected to my father, of course, takes his cut.It’s all buried under ‘spiritual guidance’ and legacy funds and whatever bullshit label they use to keep it clean.”
Cynthia reached for her pad and began to make notes. “What do you need from me?”
“I have a sister. I didn’t know I had one. But…” I passed her the envelope Rebecca had given me. “… it’s all in there. Proof she’s my sibling. I want out of the emancipation contract. I want my will changed. I want everything to go to Rebecca. I want to protect her from my father, because he’s threatening her if she contacts me or goes public. There’s been some big money paid over the years to her mom.” I rubbed my eyes. “It’s so twisted up, I don’t know where to start, but I have many reasons to get my house in order.”
Tom. Coming out. Starting over.
“I want the contract voided. I want a clean break. Can you help me?”
She glanced up, then gave me a sharp nod.
“Let’s talk about the legal status first,” she said. “In most states, a minor can be emancipated at sixteen, but only through a formal court process. That typically requires proving you can support yourself financially, live independently, and that emancipation is in your best interest. If your emancipation was tied to a private contract instead of a court order, we might already have grounds to challenge it.”
I blinked. “So, it’s not necessarily legal?”
“Even if you were granted emancipation legally, no contract—especially one signed under duress or with coercion—is unbreakable. Blackmail, threats, or misinformation make that contract vulnerable. We can argue undue influence, lack of capacity, or fraudulent inducement.”
“Even though I knew what I was signing?”
“Even then,” she said, eyes sharp. “A sixteen-year-old pressured into forfeiting half their earnings under the threat ofpersonal exposure and family trauma? That’s coercion. We go through the discovery process, find the paper trail, the threats, the manipulation. And if your father’s ministry used this to enrich itself, it could violate multiple financial laws.”
“There’s a way out if I’m brave enough to take it?”I want to be brave.
“There’s always a way out.” She went to the door and called for someone to join us, a balding man with a broad smile.
“Big fan,” he said by way of introduction. “Mark Lewis.”
“Hi.”
Cynthia gestured for Mark to sit. “Emancipation. Sixteen. Shit contract,” she said.
Mark almost rubbed his hands with glee. “Wow. For real?” He spun his chair. “Let’s get this party started.”
SIXTEEN
Tom
Sometimes fate gave you a gift.
This weekend, the first of November, was a blessing delivered from on high. By whatever forces moved people about on this little blue and green rock, Trick and I had games in the same town on the same weekend. We’d not been able to sneak in any personal time for weeks with his travel schedule warring with mine. This weekend, we were in Philly. I had a home game at one on Sunday against Washington, and Trick was playing tonight against our team. Talk about being torn about which jersey to wear. I ended up chickening out and pulling on a hoodie from a local LGBTQ charity, while Ty wore a Philly jersey.
I may have pulled some strings to get us tickets by the glass beside the Railers bench. Being a big name did have its perks. Ty and I had been shown on the Jumbotron already, and we had barely sat down. The applause for us had been boisterous, which helped soften the slings and arrows from haters who had been peppering me with abuse ever since I’d come out. The fans surrounding us had shaken hands and gotten selfies right off the bat. Again, nice to know most people were decent.
“You’re going to freeze,” Ty said as he placed his extra-large cup of root beer on the ledge by the Plexiglas. I tucked my drink down between my feet while drooling over my cheesesteak. You didn’t do a sporting event in this city and not have a cheesesteak or one of our famous soft pretzels. People had been tossed into the Delaware for less.
“Nah, I’m good.” That was a lie. The singer was belting out the anthem and my nipples were hard enough to cut through the glass separating us from the ice. “I got a coat.”
