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“Think we need to call Tim first. Then the PR team and the lawyers,” he says.
“Lawyers? What the fuck for?” I shout.
“What if they come for you? Money, fame,... money. You’re not just Marcus Russell anymore,” he answers.
“They don’t look like they're struggling. And seeing as though they never came looking for me before, not sure they’re that bothered. Surely if they needed cash, they’d have come sooner,they would have known where I was.” I rationalise.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Not sure you’re gonna get a chance to reconnect now, either, to be honest. They all seemed pretty pissed off with you.”
“Again Xan, not helping, brother.” I huff out a breath and grab the back of my neck. “What do you think, Mick?” After all the years he’s been with me, I trust Mick’s judgement implicitly, as invariably mine has been totally off for a few years and he’s steered me through.
“Tim, definitely. And quick. Then we can look at anyone else we need to speak to. We need to protect you, and them, in case someone leaks something. We should have it contained, but you can’t keep everyone’s mouth shut.”
“Do you think it’s true?” Xander asks me. “And just so you know where I am, I do.”
“Me too,” states Mick.
“Me three,” Jase pipes up.
“Yeah,” I blow out another breath, “I do. He looks just like me. And Evie was never a liar, not to me. A fucking ghost, but never a liar.”
“Tim’s going to go fucking crazy at this, Marcus. Or should I go back to Kellen now Evie’s turned up?” Xan smirks at me.
“Marcus to you, tosser.” I banter back, he knows he can call me what the fuck he wants. I shake my head on a laugh.
He grins. “Sure thing brother.”
I pull out my phone and dial Tim in Los Angeles, waiting for the next blow to fall.
He answers on the second ring. “What now?”
I smile to myself. “Wow, Tim. Talk about faith in me.”
“It’s Sunday afternoon, means it’s evening there, so you will definitely have been up to something,” he muses.
“Hang on while I put you on speaker.”
“Jesus, is it that bad we need a crowd?” He sounds a bit panicked.
“Only a fucking son,” Xander chirps over my shoulder. Before I can get to him, Mick swipes at the back of his head. I grin as the idiot rubs his head looking hurt at Mick.
“Not again,” Tim sighs. “I thought we had scuppered all those claims years ago with all your publicised issues, Marcus. Who’s come out of the woodwork now?”
“This is before I had any woodwork,” I huff, “and it’s true.”
“Don’t be admitting that or anything else Marcus. You haven’t, have you?” He sounds sharp and clear. “Christ, man, have you all not been through enough of these for you to know the drill by now.”
“This one’s for real, Tim. It’s all true. And we need to know how to deal with it. There were a few people around when it was said,” I assert.
“You don’t know it’s true until you do a paternity test,” he argues logically. “People say a lot of shit.”
“It’s true, Tim,” I repeat, scrubbing my hand down my face. I’m saying the words but they are still unbelievable.
“Well, we’ll need the PR team and the lawyers,” Tim states and Xander looks smugly at us all. “First things first though,” he says, and I can literally see him counting on his fingers. “What are they wanting? When do you want to do the test? How far on is the lady? Can it be done now, or do we have to wait?”
“Eighteen years on,” Xander laughs out loud. There is deathly silence on the other end of the phone, and everyone at this end holds their breath. “Tim, you still there?” I eventually grit out.
“Eighteen fucking years old,” he repeats. “Fuck, Marcus.”
