I sat back in my seat. I sensed Lena was pleased. But there was something bothering me. “You’ve achieved a lot of success in your line of work. Meg has told me about the awards you’ve won and the circles you move in. Why the hell would someone of your caliber give all that up to come back to Southport and work as a receptionist? It doesn’t make sense.”
Maybe I was being harsh, but it was a genuine question. But I was more than curious how someone who had made a name for herself doing what she did so well would chuck it all in to start over from the very bottom.
Whitney’s eyes hardened her mouth set. There was a grim determination about her that was instantly recognizable. This woman had been through some shit. It took a survivor to know a survivor.
“Let’s just say, Hollywood has lost its shine for me. Have you ever been surrounded by so much fakeness, so much insincerity, that you started to forget who you really were? That you lose yourself trying to become something you were never meant to be?” Whitney’s eyes bored into mine and I knew we got each other.
This was a fighter and I appreciated that.
“I’m ready to get to know me again. And while I’m not exactly qualified to be your receptionist, I can kick this job’s ass—butt.”
“We won’t dock points for cursing, no worries,” I joked, but then I became serious again. “This job won’t be a favor because you’re Meg’s sister and Adam’s soon to be sister-in-law. We don’t hand out jobs around here. You work for them. Ask Lena.” I jutted my thumb in her direction.
Whitney clenched her hands together in her lap. “If I thought you were handing out jobs, I wouldn’t be here. That’s not the kind of person I am. I don’t want anyone taking pity on me. Ever.”
I glanced at Lena, who looked back at me. I gave her a slight nod before turning back to Whitney. “Okay then, when can you start?”
Whitney started. “I got the job?”
“Yeah, well if we didn’t hire you after that Oscar-worthy speech, I’d think there was something wrong with me,” I laughed.
Whitney didn’t smile. “It wasn’t lipped service. I meant every word.”
I shrugged indifferently. “And that’s why I’m offering you the job. So, do you want it or not? Because I have a lot to do today.”
Whitney looked at Lena then back at me before finally relaxing. “Yes, I want the job. Thank you.” She reached out to shake my hand again.
“Okay then. Lena will talk to you about paperwork and tax forms and all that stuff I really don’t want to be around for. So why don’t you go and wait back out in the reception area.” Whitney got up and headed for the door, but I stopped her. “And welcome to the team, Whitney. We’re glad to have you.”
She didn’t say anything, yet her smile was more genuine than it had been earlier. “Thank you, Mr. Wyatt.”
“Ah, none of that Mr. Wyatt crap. It’s Jeremy,” I told her.
After she left I got to my feet. “Okay, well now that’s done—”
“She won’t sleep with you, just so you know. Whitney’s not like that,” Lena said in an almost accusatory tone.
“I wasn’t planning to ask her to,” I replied nonchalantly.
“Seriously, don’t try that flirty bullshit with her. She won’t put up with it,” Lena warned. What was her deal?
“Are you worried the pretty new toy will distract me from you, Marlena?” I asked, dropping my voice low.
Lena’s eyes met mine and for a second she seemed almost vulnerable. Christ, was she actually worried I’d try and screw her friend? I knew she was upset at the possibility but trying really hard not to be.
The fact that she thought I’d try bothered me a lot. I hated that she thought so little of me.
And it didn’t matter that she was jealous, that she was strangely staking a claim on me without realizing that was what she was doing.
Because Lena was hands-off.
“I promise to not seduce the new receptionist. I leave all my charm for you, baby.” I brushed a strand of hair back from her face.
On cue, she swatted my hand away. “Don't be a dick.” She turned on her heel and walked away and I couldn’t stop grinning.
After she was gone, I went straight to my office and canceled my appointments for the afternoon.
Today was a big day for Lena and I wanted to be there for her. She didn’t have to know I was there, but I wanted to share this moment with her, whether she realized I was in the courtroom or not.
Chapter 7
Lena
“Objection. Relevance?” I called out, getting to my feet.
“Miss Ducate, that is your fourteenth objection. Can we continue without interruptions?” Judge Kleindienst asked, raising an eyebrow.
My stomach was in knots and my heart was thudding painfully in my chest. But I was making this trial my bitch, just as Jeremy had predicted.
“Your honor, Mr. Rigby has repeatedly presented information that has no bearing on this case. My client’s previous traffic violations have no relevance to his current legal issues.” Damn, I sounded as if I knew what I was talking about and my voice didn’t shake. I was proud of myself.
Judge Kleindienst gave me a stern look. “Sustained, but this is a warning, Miss Ducate, to stop holding up proceedings.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.” I sat back down in my seat and gave a reassuring smile to Jacob Baker who was chewing his nails beside me.
“Get your hands out of your mouth and stop fidgeting,” I instructed him sharply. Jacob immediately obeyed, tucking his hands beneath his legs so he wouldn’t be tempted to mess with them again.
Nolan Rigby, the District Attorney, was cross-examining my witness, the arresting officer, Fred Dooley. Jeremy had been right; Sheila hadn’t done anything but sit there and write notes throughout the trial. She had barely even looked at me.
I had already torn the witness a new asshole by punching holes in his less than credible story by bringing up his history with my client. When I mentioned the time they had gone on a bender ending in a threesome with his now-wife and Jacob’s first drug arrest, he had looked as if he wanted to arrest me. But I was saving my pièce de résistance for when I redirected the witness when Nolan was finished. I could barely contain myself.
“I’d like to redirect, Your Honor,” I said after Nolan sat down. I picked up the small recording device on the edge of the table and held it up for the judge to see. “I’d like to enter this audio recording into evidence.”
I walked toward the police officer sweating bullets on the witness stand. He could see things were about to go very badly for him. “It’s amazing, Officer Dooley, how easy it is to forget we live in a digital society. Virtually everything we do is recorded and available for the whole world to see. Were you aware that you were being recorded on November 18th when you arrested Mr. Baker for possession?”
Officer Dooley’s face went pale. “That’s against the law. He can’t—”
“I assure you he can, and he did. It’s within his rights to record his interactions with you. And it’s a good thing he did because this is what happened.”
I pressed play. The audio quality wasn’t the best, but Officer Dooley’s aggressive, angry tone was clear. The courtroom was quiet as we all listened to Officer Dooley verbally berating Jacob Baker and telling him he was under arrest. When the recording was finished, I turned it off and leveled Officer Dooley with a firm look. “Officer Dooley, after listening to that, can you tell me the one important thing you forgot to do?”
Fred Dooley’s fleshy face turned an alarming shade of crimson. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, his thin lips twisted up in anger and embarrassment. He didn’t answer.
I leaned a hip against the witness stand. “Officer Dooley, the court is waiting for your answer.” I was relishing this. It was like being on stage and preparing for the climactic scene. I could almost imagine the music reaching a crescendo. Here it comes…
Officer Dooley muttered something under his breath. I
tilted my head towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that. Can you speak louder for everyone to hear?”
“I didn’t read him his Miranda Rights,” he practically shouted.
“And did you not have Mr. Baker in custody for almost twelve hours?”
“Yes,” Fred Dooley answered petulantly.
“And did you not place him in an interrogation room and ask him about the alleged crime?”
Officer Dooley looked positively apoplectic. “Yes.”
I stepped away from the witness stand and turned to the judge. “Your Honor I move to dismiss all charges against my client. He was held by the Southport police department in excess of thirteen hours. He was booked and interrogated without once being read his rights. Any information garnered during those interviews is inadmissible. And given the evidence I have already shown that indicates a serious breakdown in the chain of custody, the evidence, primarily the drugs found at the scene, are inadmissible as well. This is a clear case of police bias given Officer Dooley’s colorful history with Mr. Baker.”
Nolan Rigby got to his feet and began to argue, but Judge Kleindienst cut him off almost immediately. The older woman excused the very mortified Officer Fred Dooley from the stand and then announced that she had no choice but to dismiss all charges against Jacob Baker. She then proceeded to strongly chastise Nolan and the entire Southport police department.
It was a beautiful moment. Like something out of a movie. Only the protagonist was an obnoxious drug pusher who probably didn’t deserve the second chance he had been handed.
But as far as the first trials went, you couldn’t get much better.
After the judge left and we were all free to leave, I turned to Jacob who was all but blubbering his gratitude. I could see his parents at the back starting to make their way over. I wanted to say my piece to him before they swooped in.
“Jacob, I’ve known you most of my life, right?”
Jacob grinned. “Since elementary school.” He was a few years younger than me, but everyone knew Jacob because he was always in trouble. It seemed he hadn’t grown out of that.
“Now listen, your parents are good people. They do a lot for you.”
Jacob nodded; his face now somber. “Yeah, they do.”
I patted his shoulder. “Then stop being such a royal fuck up. Save your mother some grey hairs and get your crap together. They won’t always be around to bail you out. Get a decent job. Find a nice girl. Find a nice guy. Start a family. Or don’t. But the only way to stop being called a dumb ass is to stop doing dumb shit. Is that clear?”
Jacob gave me a hangdog look but seemed to hear what I was saying. And when his parents came over and thanked me effusively, I waved it off, though I was loving the praise. Everyone likes to be told they did an awesome job.
It was when I was packing up my bag that I heard him behind me. I startled, not realizing he was there.
“That was some stellar advice, right there. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
I turned around to find Jeremy standing behind me, his hands tucked into the tailored trousers that fit him too damn well. His expensive suit jacket was open, and his tie was loose around his neck. He looked for all the world like he belonged on the runway. He didn’t quite fit in the rural, backwoods world of Southport Pennsylvania. He seemed to be something exotic. Something unattainable.
And he came. Even after I told him not to.
“I told you not to come,” I said stubbornly, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah, well it seemed wrong for no one to be here to bear witness to the beginning of what will, no doubt, be an illustrious legal career. I wanted to be able to say twenty years from now that I was there at the start.” He grinned and I couldn’t help but grin back. He wasn’t saying those words to be sarcastic. He meant every one of them.
My stomach flipped over and my chest tightened. Jeremy Wyatt was the moon and my emotions were the tides. He affected me in ways that I didn’t like or understand. He could cause blinding rage one minute and unbridled lust the next. I never knew if I wanted to hit him or kiss him. If I wanted to hold him tight or push him away. Most of the time I wanted to do both. He infuriated me, but he also challenged me. He made me feel good about myself. He made me feel special and desired. He also made me feel as if I were losing my mind half the time.
“I hope I didn’t make an idiot of myself then. Now that I know I had an audience,” I remarked drolly.
Jeremy held the door of the courtroom open for me, waving me ahead of him. I wondered if he did so just so he could check out my ass.
The feminist in me bristled. The horny bitch in me wanted to put an extra swing in my step.
Jeremy said hello to numerous people we passed on our way out of the courthouse. He introduced me to several other attorneys practicing in town as well as the county clerk. It was obvious he knew everyone, and everyone knew him. And it was obvious that he was well-liked. He made everyone smile. He and my brother shared the same easy charm that put people at ease. I could see why they worked well together.
Once we were outside, I zipped up my coat and Jeremy got out his car keys. We stood on the sidewalk, neither of us moving to leave.
“Congratulations, Lena. You really did an amazing job,” Jeremy said, using my preferred name. Though, deep down, I think I preferred when he called me Marlena. There was something about the way he said it that made my toes curl. Sometimes in rage. But oftentimes in liquid hot desire.
As I said, he made me crazy.
“Thank you. But you really helped. Especially with the advice about objecting. Nolan looked as if his head was going to pop off his shoulders every time I did it.”
“Told you. He can’t handle it when his flow is interrupted. It’s like he short circuits.” Jeremy jiggled his keys in his hand and looked at the time on his phone. “So, I know you’ll probably shoot me down, but what the hell. Can I take you out for a drink? It’s after five, so I won’t feel as if we’re a bunch of alcoholics.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued speaking.
“To celebrate. It would be a shame to not commemorate your first trial. More importantly, your first win. I’d really like to get you something you like. And I figured booze was the surest way to your heart.” He chuckled nervously.
“Will there be lots of compliments with this drink? I think I deserve excessive amounts of praise,” I interjected.
Jeremy smirked. “There will be some praise. Not too much. Can’t have you go getting a big ego or anything.”
We started to walk toward the parking lot, our arms brushing against each other. “I guess there’s only room for one over-inflated ego around here, huh?”
“You sure know how to hit a guy where it hurts,” he winced, but it was all in good fun.
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Wyatt,” I laughed.
The mood between us was light and jovial. It was easy to talk to Jeremy when he wasn’t being a brutish pig. It was times like this that he was most dangerous.
Because it was then that I found myself really liking him.
**
“When I see you drink, I feel like such a pussy,” Jeremy complained, watching me as I downed a shot of bourbon in one go.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and put the glass down on the bar, whistling for Brad to bring another round.
We had ended up at Sweet Lila’s. Mostly because it was the only decent bar in town if you didn’t want to rub elbows with half the local winos. It was open mic night, which was equal parts entertaining and cringe-inducing. Jeremy and I were at the far end of the bar drinking our weight in booze. We both had to get up early the next day, but it didn’t seem to matter. It was after nine and we were still going strong.
I was high on my win and Jeremy seemed happy to indulge me.
“I’ve had a lot of practice, my friend.” I patted my stomach. “This is a gut of steel.” I sipped on my shot this time, instead of slamming it ba
ck. I wasn’t feeling a buzz yet, but I wanted to take it slow. Jeremy had seen me sloppy before and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Been there, done that.
Jeremy twisted in his stool to face me. “I’m guessing the college years were one big party for you then.”
I waved at my parents’ neighbors who walked into the busy bar behind Sandra Leonard who I graduated high school with. It was hard going anywhere in this small town without running into someone I knew. Growing up in a place like Southport had its charms but it also had its drawbacks. I felt as if I was always on display. That people analyzed and gossiped about every beer I drank and every man I spoke to. I had no doubt Mom and Dad would get wind of me drinking shots with a handsome man on a Thursday night.
Whatever.
I drank some more bourbon. “I like fun as much as the next girl, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to knuckle down when I need to.”
Jeremy drank the shot and made a face. I laughed. “Not a bourbon fan?”
He cringed, his almost too pretty face twisting into a comical expression. “God no. I’m a vodka guy.”
“Drinking bourbon will put some hair on your chest, Wyatt.” I patted his chest. It was hard not to notice the hard planes of muscle beneath my palm. Damn, the man was cut. I was overcome with an overwhelming desire to see what was beneath the fitted shirt.
I cleared my throat and pushed aside the unwanted thoughts. I stood up and leaned far over the bar. “Hey Brad, four shots of vodka please,” I hollered over the loud music. I was rewarded with a thumbs up, so I sat back down.
Say You Love Me : An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 10