Under the Table

by Stephanie Evanovich

  “Hopefully, it won’t get that far. But I hope that offer stands if it does.”

  “It certainly does. Good luck with all of it. Keep me posted?”

  As Ruth got closer to her court appearance, her bravado started to nose-dive. Zoey accompanied Ruth on her shopping trip to transform herself into a prim schoolmarm. She wanted to make sure Ruth was dressed as conservatively as possible and be there to talk her out of wanting to wear something more Ruthie if she gravitated toward it. It was an eye-rolling ordeal.

  “Is this made of polyester or sandpaper?”

  “This is not cashmere. It feels more like dog hair.”

  “The neckline on this piece of crap is trying to strangle me.”

  “Are we trying to conceal my figure altogether?”

  “I wonder if wearing this would entitle me to a senior citizen discount?”

  Zoey bit her tongue and figured Ruth was lashing out, trying to hide her worry about her potential sentence. But she was also hurt. The majority of the garments Zoey selected she personally found attractive. As she presented countless armfuls of clothing that were ridiculed she reflected on two thoughts:

  This wasn’t half as fun as when she took Tristan to Barneys, and she remembered why she stopped shopping with her sister in the first place.

  Ruth finally settled on a lovely three-quarter-length flower-patterned dress with a navy-blue cardigan that Ruth declared she would gladly donate to Zoey when she was done if it fit, which they both knew it wouldn’t. Luckily their feet were within a size of each other’s, which mercifully saved Zoey having to replay the whole rigmarole while shoe shopping too. Ruth was content to borrow a pair of plain black flats.

  Neither of them had any appetite the morning of Ruth’s hearing. The entire cab ride to the courthouse was an ongoing lecture of how Ruth needed to keep her mouth shut unless she was spoken to and to take whatever chip she had on her shoulder and brush it off now, before she came face-to-face with her accuser. Once they got to the courthouse and took a good look around, all of Ruth’s defiance about raging against the machine came to a grinding halt. After going through the metal detectors, they found their courtroom and took their seats among a multitude of other grim and dazed faces. The people who didn’t look fazed by what was going on around them were even more frightening. It was a real eclectic group of potential homicidal maniacs and their weary-looking public defenders. They waited as one by one defendants stood before the judge. Some of them were already wearing prison jumpsuits. Others were completely shackled as they shuffled their way to the front of the room to utter the one or two words required of them while their attorneys did the rest of the talking before being led back to wherever they came from. Some looked hopeless, others helpless. If they weren’t so worried about the fate that awaited Ruth, they would’ve been depressed just being there. At times, Ruth grabbed Zoey’s hand and gave it a squeeze. They waited as the process continued and there were only a handful of people left in the courtroom. They heard the judge call her case and Ruth went up to stand behind the defendant’s table. At the same time, the prosecutor began searching through the amassed papers and folders that were stacked in front of him.

  “Are you represented by counsel?” the judge asked Ruth.

  “No, sir,” Ruth replied.

  “Are you waiving that right?”

  “I’m throwing myself on the mercy of the court,” Ruth said in all seriousness. The judge remained completely deadpan.

  “If I may interject, Your Honor,” the prosecutor chimed in with the paper he was looking for now in front of him. “The victim in this case no longer wants to press charges and we are recommending a dismissal.”

  “I have no record of that, counselor. Would you approach the bench, please? Bring your document with you.”

  The prosecutor did as he was asked while Ruth turned around to shrug her shoulders at Zoey. They exchanged puzzled looks and Zoey began to hold her breath. Maybe everything was going to be all right after all.

  “Well, Miss Dixon,” the judge began, and Ruth turned quickly back around, standing as straight as she could. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. The injured party has rescinded his complaint, and per the prosecutor’s recommendation, I’m going to dismiss your case. You’re free to go.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Ruth said, the relief evident in her face.

  The only sound that could be heard in the silence that followed as the judge updated his records was the whoosh of Zoey releasing her pent-up breath. Just like that, it was over and Ruth was joining her. Ruth’s relief was apparently left at the defendant’s table, replaced with an eye-rolling annoyance.

  “Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” Ruth huffed as they left the courtroom. “Puts me through all this and then doesn’t have the balls to go through with it.”

  “You know what I can’t believe?” Zoey hissed right back. “That you are looking this gift horse in the mouth. A half hour ago you were looking at a fine, or a jail sentence. Don’t forget that.”

  “Who in their right mind shows up to a felony hearing without an attorney?”

  Zoey and Ruth turned in unison to the direction of the sound. Blake was already making his way toward them. Had he been in the courtroom the whole time, or had he just arrived? He looked positively handsome in his navy suit, gold-cuff-link-wearing, clean-shaven sort of way. Zoey had already seen this side of him, something that Ruth refused to acknowledge. He also looked uncharacteristically mad as hell, something Ruth may have been more familiar with.

  “Why on earth didn’t you bring a lawyer?” Blake repeated when he caught up with them.

  “Because we both already know who was holding all the cards. Why would I throw money away when it was clear judge clown shoes wanted to make sure I suffered? I might’ve needed that cash to buy cigarettes,” Ruth replied.

  “You don’t smoke,” Blake said.

  “No, but I wanted to have them to trade and buy myself out of work detail. Or getting beat up.”

  Blake’s face showed no signs of appreciating her joke.

  “Relax,” Ruth went on, giving Blake a playful tug on his sleeve. “I did my own research. I was pretty sure a jackass like him wouldn’t take it all the way, so I just went in and played dumb. If he did show up today, the judge would probably call a continuance and insist that I get a lawyer. So, you see, it all worked out. Now, come on, let’s hit the nearest pub. I’m buying.”

  Blake didn’t move, even as Ruth started walking toward the exit doors.

  “Do you want to know why Randy Hollister didn’t show up today?” Blake said.

  Ruth halted, turning back around. “I just told you why.”

  “And maybe you are right,” Blake replied. “Maybe he didn’t show up because it wasn’t worth the trouble. But maybe it’s possible he called it all off because I threatened him.”

  “You did what?” Zoey and Ruth said in unison.

  Blake showed the smallest hint of a smile. “Let’s say I appealed to his practical side. I told him that if he thought you made a scene at the bar, imagine what you could do on a witness stand. If nothing else, you would turn him into a laughingstock. And I warned him that I would do everything in my power to see you represented by the kind of publicity-hungry attorney who would find and publicly parade every girl he hit on that night. I told him that if he continued with this pride-fueled vendetta, by the time this was over, he would likely lose not only his wife, but also his job. Maybe even get disbarred.”

  “How did you even know about this?” Ruth said, trying to mask her surprise.

  “I was at the party, remember?” Blake said in exasperation.

  “Told you,” Zoey said.

  “I don’t recall asking for your help.” Ruth huffed.

  They engaged in a brief stare down, Blake looking disenchanted and Ruth, indignant.

  “Thanks, Blake,” Zoey finally said to try and break the tension. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  Ruth rounded on Zoey.
“Don’t speak for me. I didn’t ask for anyone’s assistance.”

  “Enough.” Blake’s voice stopped Ruth in her tracks.

  Ruth and Zoey both looked at Blake, who was shaking his head and running a hand through his neatly combed hair.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, once he was sure he had Ruth’s attention. “I don’t want to.”

  Blake no longer looked angry. He looked deflated. He was always brooding, but now his whole posture held the weight of a sadness that was near to breaking Zoey’s heart.

  Ruth must have noticed it too, because she was back to trying to sound airy and carefree.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” She laughed cheerfully. “Thanks for coming to the rescue. I’m grateful. Now don’t be mad at me, okay? I’ve had a rough day.”

  Blake’s face didn’t change. In fact, his frown got deeper. Zoey thought he was going to turn and walk away but instead he said, near to a whisper, “I wanted you to need me.”

  “What kind of bullshit is that?” Ruth replied crossly.

  “I wanted us to need each other. Ruth, I’ve been waiting almost a year to catch you in between hookups and drama. So that maybe I could convince you to give a relationship with me a try. I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I saw you. I’ve replayed the night we spent together in my mind a thousand times. After my marriage broke up, I never thought I’d feel that way about another woman again. I’m sorry if I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong. I waited for days after your arrest for you to tell me about it. It hurt so much that you didn’t, but I thought that maybe you were too embarrassed. Now I realize, you’ll never need me. I don’t think you’ll ever need anybody. But I don’t want to be your secret bodyguard anymore. And I can’t be your friend. I’m sorry, Ruth, but the party’s over for me.”

  His voice had started to tremble by the end. He was crushed—it was written all over his face. Any fool could see. Zoey wished the floor would open up and swallow her, to remove her from being privy to this painful conversation.

  Blake didn’t wait for a response. As soon as he finished, he turned on his heel and walked away. Zoey looked to Ruth, waiting for her sister to follow him and not let him get away. But Ruth was watching Blake leave too, her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth slightly agape.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Zoey said accusingly, breaking Ruth out of her reverie.

  “What? Don’t look at me like that. I had no idea he felt that way.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  “I’ll call him later, it’ll be fine.” Ruth tried to resume her breezy tone.

  “You think a man like Blake makes that sort of speech just to hear himself talk?” Zoey spat, shaking her head in pure disgust. “You’re an idiot.”

  Zoey thought she might actually start to scream. Not only had Ruth come out on top in another one of her escapades, but another man also had been kicked to the curb after having jumped through enormous hoops to get her attention. Only this was a good man, who didn’t deserve a casual blow-off. With a snort of derision, Zoey followed Blake out the door, ignoring the single time Ruth called her name. Ruth was on her own with this one, Zoey reflected.

  Back out on the street, Zoey blinked at the sun, which temporarily blinded her, then headed in the direction of home. Everything always works out for Ruth, Zoey once again marveled. The only lesson Ruth had learned was that she really did have the power to make men act like morons. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, Zoey turned into the first liquor store she saw.

  * * *

  When Tristan opened the door, Zoey was already light-headed and leaning against the wall beside it.

  “I’m seeking refuge,” she said.

  “This can’t be good,” he murmured as she sauntered past him into the living room, carrying a brown paper bag with a bottle in it.

  “It went badly for Ruth?” Tristan asked when he joined her.

  “Oh no,” Zoey said dramatically, taking another swallow out of the bottle after landing on the couch. “It went just dandy. All the charges were dropped and she got off without so much as a warning.”

  “Then why have you taken to getting drunk in public?”

  “Who says I’m drunk?” Zoey countered.

  “What you’re doing right here is what I like to call ‘Classic American Wino.’”

  Zoey held up the bottle by the top of the neck and let the bag slip off and fall to the ground, revealing a single bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade. “For your information, this isn’t wine, it’s a malt beverage. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t sell me a single bottle, so I took it upon myself to distribute the rest of the pack to some legit winos, but they didn’t care about hiding them. So there.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  “I would also like to point out that the whole notion that your weight is somehow relevant to how much liquor you can hold is a bunch of tripe,” Zoey added after draining what was left in the bottle. “Another one of these and I’d be seeing double.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No.” She snorted. “I was busy getting the Teflon Dominatrix ready for court.”

  Tristan laughed a little and sat down on the couch beside her. “I’m not sure I understand what the problem is. It sounds like a positive outcome, so why is your nose so out of joint?”

  “Because this has been happening for the better part of my life! For as long as I can remember, Ruth has been doing irresponsible stuff and someone, usually me, is always covering for her or picking up the pieces. I’m sick of her always getting exactly what she wants. I’m sick of her not caring if she hurts people.”

  Zoey stopped, midrant. There was so much more she wanted to vent. How Zoey had become sick to death of catering to Ruth’s need for immediate gratification. Zoey wanted to rage and then weep with the realization that she had jumped from the frying pan into the fire when she married Derek, who had many of the same characteristics.

  She looked over at Tristan, who hadn’t even attempted to get a word in edgewise. He was merely listening, with the occasional nod of his head.

  “Ruth fought for her right to party and she’s been partying ever since.” Zoey sighed wearily. “I’m tired of always having to be the grown-up.”

  “I hear you. It sounds infuriating. As someone who doesn’t have any siblings, I can’t really relate. But maybe because she knows she can count on you to catch her if she falls, she feels free to take bigger risks?”

  He was calm and levelheaded as always, refusing to see anything but the good side of people. Through the buzz of hard lemonade and the fog of anger, Tristan still managed to soothe her.

  “I think you’ve been under a great deal of stress. It’s completely understandable.”

  He put a gentle hand on her knee. A friendly gesture that managed to send her already scattered nerves reeling. With an impulse brought on by dizziness and a myriad of emotions, she reached over and wrapped both arms around his neck.

  He didn’t return the hug, didn’t rub her back and coo to her that everything was going to be all right. He stiffened, his arms awkwardly at his sides until she pulled back and placed her lips against his smooth cheek.

  “Thanks, Tristan,” she whispered in his ear after the kiss. “You’re a sanity saver for sure.”

  He clumsily gave her back several pats. Zoey felt the hesitation and pulled away from him, took note of the discomfort written on his face, and flushed with guilt and embarrassment. Being attracted to him was a mistake. Touching him was a bigger one. She hadn’t shown up at his door looking for commiseration, she was looking for him to save her. The thought triggered a surge of renewed anger. The only thing she could do was fall back on her old standby of making a hasty retreat.

  “I have to go,” Zoey said abruptly, standing up.

  Tristan stood up too. “Zoey, wait. Don’t leave. You’re tipsy. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly, handing her empty bottle to him. �
��Can you throw this out for me?”

  “At least let me call—” he began.

  “Don’t you dare say it!” She cut him off with a talk-to-the-hand motion in his direction. “I don’t need your car service. I don’t need your food. I don’t need your attempts at chivalry. I know how to both walk and hail a cab. I’m sorry I bothered you with this.”

  The last thing she saw was his dumbfounded look when she turned back around at the door.

  “This isn’t your fault. I just have to get back to doing what’s best for me.”

  He nodded silently, with bewildered eyes, as the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 16

  When it came to Tristan Malloy, it was time for Zoey to start implementing some self-control. The crush had gotten too big. She wasn’t going to be able to wean herself off him; she was going to have to go cold turkey. Armed with Ruth’s original and knowledgeable advice, Zoey went about the business of keeping her distance from Tristan. She was prepared to deploy all the polite ways to avoid him, but she couldn’t shake the rush when she so much as thought about him. For the first day, every time her phone chimed, she was filled with dread that it was Tristan, followed by disappointment when it wasn’t. She had gotten used to hearing from him daily. The way she had stormed out of his place had likely freaked him out. She tried to look at that as a positive thing.

  Ruth didn’t return to their apartment until the morning after her court date. She walked in as if nothing unusual had happened the day before. In fact, she looked like she was basking in afterglow.

  “You’re in an awfully good mood,” Zoey said begrudgingly.

  “It is a beautiful day,” Ruth replied, still looking dreamy.

  “Guess you found a replacement for Blake?” Zoey couldn’t help delivering the jab. Did Ruth understand the consequences of taking someone for granted?

  “As a matter of fact, I did.” Ruth was beaming. “I like to call him Blake 2.0, the reboot.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “After I was so rudely abandoned at the courthouse, I did some thinking. You were right, I had turned Blake into Mr. Dependable. I didn’t appreciate him. I texted and called him about a hundred times until he finally answered. I insisted that I was coming over to his apartment. I apologized profusely, then sat like a good girl while he vented his spleen. His ranting had nothing to do with me. There was a lot about this wedding coming up that the bachelor party at the Marquee was for. About how his ex-wife was going to be at the wedding with her new boyfriend. How disgustingly sweet they were. Now Hollister would be shooting daggers at him through the whole affair as well. I waited until I was sure he was almost done, then I kissed him. Mostly to shut him up. Then I told him I would go with him to the wedding as the most refined dame he ever saw. Then we had the most impolite night in recent memory.”