Chapter 2 - The Contracts They Never Read
At 6:12 the next morning, I called Marisol Vega.
She was an attorney I had met through work.
Sharp.
Practical.
Entirely uninterested in family guilt.
She answered on the third ring.
“Michael?”
“Sorry it’s early.”
“You sound awake enough to be dangerous.”
“I need you to review some contracts.”
“How many?”
“Seven.”
There was a pause.
“Wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
“That already sounds expensive.”
I sent everything.
By 7:05, we were on a video call.
Marisol had the venue agreement open.
“You’re the sole contracting party.”
“Yes.”
“Who paid the deposits?”
“I did.”
“Who is the wedding for?”
“My brother.”
“Who has now uninvited you?”
“Yes.”
She leaned back.
“I’m going to ask one question before we go further.”
“Okay.”
“What do you want?”
I looked at the stack of bills on my desk.
“I want to stop paying.”
“That is very different from trying to ruin the wedding.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
She tapped the screen.
“Because legally, revenge makes people sloppy.”
“I’m done being sloppy.”
Marisol reviewed each contract.
Some deposits were nonrefundable.
Some were partially refundable.
Some services could be canceled twenty-four hours before the event.
Some allowed rescheduling.
One had a transfer clause.
Another required written authorization before any additional charges.
Then we reached the most interesting document.
Cedar Grove Estate.
The venue itself.
I had paid a $35,000 deposit.
Another $18,000 was due Friday afternoon.
The contract stated that if the final payment was not received by five p.m., the estate could suspend services.
Julian had been telling everyone the wedding was fully paid.
It wasn’t.
The catering balance was also due Friday.
$21,400.
Flowers.
$8,700.
Rentals.
$6,200.
Photographer.
$4,000.
Band.
$5,500.
In less than forty-eight hours, I was expected to wire more than sixty thousand dollars.
For a wedding I was forbidden from entering.
Marisol looked at me.
“Have you signed anything authorizing them to charge your card automatically?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Then do nothing.”
I stared at her.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not make the payments.”
“Do not cancel yet.”
“Why?”
“Because you are not obligated to rescue them from a deadline they know exists.”
A strange calm settled over me.
She continued.
“If they want the wedding, they can pay for the wedding.”
I laughed once.
“You haven’t met Julian.”
“No.”
“But I have met entitlement.”
Then my phone rang.
Mom.
I almost ignored it.
Marisol said.
“Answer.”
“Why?”
“Because people reveal useful information when they think you are still obedient.”
I put the call on speaker.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her voice was sweet.
Too sweet.
“Michael, sweetheart.”
“About yesterday.”
“I think everyone got emotional.”
Everyone.
Interesting.
“I’m not emotional.”
I said.
“Good.”
“Because Julian needs you to send the final venue payment today.”
Marisol silently lifted one eyebrow.
I almost smiled.
“Why?”
“Because the wedding is Sunday.”
“I know.”
“Well, Cedar Grove called.”
“They need the balance.”
“Then Julian should pay it.”
Silence.
My mother actually laughed.
“Oh, Michael.”
“Don’t be childish.”
“I’m not invited.”
May you like
“That has nothing to do with the bills.”
That sentence changed something permanent inside me.
