by Sharon Kleve
Steve grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and dropped down next to me on the couch. I took the beer from his outstretched hand, swallowed a large gulp, handed the bottle back and resisted the urge to burp. I bet Celeste didn’t burp.
“Steve, how many times did Celeste call you today?”
“Five. You know, I don’t remember her being that chatty.” He took my hand in his, leaned against me, closed his green eyes and sighed. Steve looked tired and was probably hungry.
“Honey, I’m going to make dinner. I’ll let you know when everything’s ready,” I said.
“Okay. Thanks.”
He slumped down on the couch and closed his eyes.
Half an hour later, when dinner was close to ready, I stroked Steve’s face, kissed his relaxed lips and his eyes opened.
“Hey sleepyhead, dinner’s almost ready,” I said softly.
“I’ll be right in,” he said and stretched his arms above his head.
Steve found me in the kitchen while I put the final touches on dinner. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head.
“Steve, don’t you think Celeste calling you five times in one day is excessive? Really, what could be that important?”
“Nothing earth-shattering. She asked how a couple of our mutual friends were doing, is all.”
“And this couldn’t be asked in an email? I think she wants you back in her life,” I declared.
“You’re my life. I love you. You have nothing to worry about and I don’t have plans to spend any extra time with her.”
“I’m being a worrywart. Let’s eat and go to bed.”
“Sounds great.”
CHAPTER THREE
The sun already set behind gray fluffy clouds, when Steve walked into the house. He wrapped me in his arms and gently squeezed. I spotted a smudge of brown in the corner of his mouth. I leaned forward and licked—chocolate.
“Celeste called today to tell me the class she’s teaching is long and intensive. And that the group usually spends the evenings debriefing. She emphasized that significant others usually don’t come along,” Steve informed me.
“Seriously…? How could you have dated such a butt munch?” I asked.
He stepped back and laughed. “I don’t know. Looking back, I think I was relieved when she moved. If she wasn’t an expert in her field, I wouldn’t consider going to her class. I called a buddy of mine who’s taken the course before. He told me anything after class is optional. I won’t be spending my evenings with the class.”
“Great. I’m in need of a little stress relief. If you know what I mean?” I asked.
“Let’s go turn on the spin cycle.” Steve knew exactly what I meant.
“Great minds think alike.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I couldn’t wait to tell my friends, Brenda Howser and Kitty Skinner, about Celeste and jury duty. We’ve been best pals since kindergarten. We got together every other Friday night for happy hour at Chico’s in downtown Seattle. The only valid excuse for a happy hour no-show was a new sweetie.
Brenda dated John Smith, aka The Goon. He was mysterious, and worked erratic hours, but he was hot, kind, and good in bed. That was enough for her—for now.
Kitty, on the other hand was closemouthed about her new relationship. I was pretty sure she dated Steve’s partner Aaron, but I hadn’t been able to confirm my suspicions—yet. A few months ago I was involved in a bar fight—not my fault. Brenda witnessed serious sparks fly between Kitty and Aaron. Steve said to keep my nose out of their business—I disagreed. When we met tonight Kitty should come clean.
****
I’d realized real quick I couldn’t run my pet detective business all by myself. Brenda had a niece named Halo, who was unemployed, previously worked at Starbucks, and loved animals. I hired her over the phone. She showed up on her first day of work with multiple shades of purple hair, a pierced nose and eyebrows. She was eccentric, but I couldn’t imagine my business without her—plus she made awesome lattes. Halo’s coffee masterpiece today, was a double shot, pumpkin mocha, soy latte and she’d swirled angel wings into the foam. The coffee was almost too pretty to drink.
After I returned my messages, I asked Halo, “If I get selected as a juror, I’m not sure how long the trial will last. Are you comfortable taking on my work cases?”
“You bet, boss. I can handle anything that comes my way. The lost pets of the world will get found quickly and safely with me on their case. Jacob’s unemployed and loves little critters as much as I do. He’ll be happy to help out too,” Halo said confidently.
“Well… if you get stumped, call my cell. I’ll get back to you on a break. Wait... who’s Jacob? I thought you were dating a drummer named, Simon.”
“Old news, boss. I told Simon to take a hike Saturday night when I caught him smooching on a waitress. Jacob bought me a drink and we’ve been hanging out ever since. He’s cool. You’d like him.”
“I’m sure I would. I’ll let you know how things go.” Oh boy. Halo went through guys like I went through doughnut holes—fast.
****
I wanted to look and feel confident if I met Steve’s ex. I scheduled an appointment for a hair trim and highlights. Alessandro Acquistti, my stylist, had a cancellation at noon and wanted to help me out. I munched on a celery stick, and wondered how many excuses Celeste would come up with to talk to Steve today.
My salon appointment ran much longer than expected. Who could say no to Alessandro when he wanted to add another shade of red to my hair?
At 4:00 p.m. he declared with a flip of his sleek, long, black hair, “I am a Picasso, with hair.”
He cracked me up. Alessandro wasn’t gay, Italian, nor does he have a real accent. One day he’d laughed hysterically at one of my raunchy jokes and his accent slipped. I was shocked.
Without his heavy Italian accent he confided in me, “Corny, my image is everything. People have a hard time spending a hundred and fifty dollars for a haircut from a guy named Ralph Smith, but not from Alessandro Acquistti. Will you please keep my secret? I’ll give you a lifetime discount of ten percent on all my services.”
Because I had no problem with his secret, he fit me in when I had a hair emergency.
With another flip of his beautiful hair he declared, “You may ‘ohh and ahh’, but do not touch your hair.” He whispered in my ear, “The shellac needs time to dry.”
My hair had never looked better. The highlights Alessandro added were subtle, yet vibrant. I tipped him twenty dollars and he handed me the bottle he referred to as shellac.
“Only use a small drop, carefully comb through and blow dry. Please don’t use more than a drop,” Alessandro instructed.
“Why only a drop?” I asked.
“Have you seen the movie, ‘There’s Something About Mary?’”
“Yes, Cameron Diaz was great in that movie.”
“Remember her bad hair moment?” he asked.
“Eww. How could I forget?”
“If you use too much of this product, your whole head will look like her bangs. Think Gary Busey on a really bad day… “
“Right! More is not better. Thank you. See you next time, Alessandro.”
****
I had twenty minutes to drive forty miles in Friday night traffic—no problem. I arrived with two minutes to spare. In dire situations, my Mini Cooper could buzz through areas where other cars couldn’t go.
Brenda’s eyes widened when she saw my hair.
“You look hot!” Then she sadly informed me, “Kitty won’t be joining us… again.”
We didn’t resent she skipped happy hour for sex, but we wanted to know who she got down and dirty with. Chips and salsa had already been delivered to the table and Brenda had speckles of salsa juice on her blouse. I grabbed a chip, but didn’t eat. I felt torn about jury duty because Celeste would be in town. “I have two pieces of news—one kind of good, and one kind of juicy.”
“Okay. Give me the juicy one first,” Brenda said.
Brenda carefully selected another chip, and scooped more salsa, but before she could deposit the chip into her mouth another glob dropped off the edge. This time the mess landed on her voluptuous breast.
“Oh crap,” she mumbled and wiped her napkin across her boob, which smeared the liquid even more. She dropped the dirty napkin on the table where several other’s lay discarded.
“Well… this chick named Celeste, who is Steve’s old girlfriend, is trying to get back into his pants.”
“Steve’s hot. I’m surprised you haven’t had to fight off mobs of women. You should let her babysit Pete for the day. That would send her packing.”
“You’re right, I didn’t think of that.”
“Problem solved. What’s your second piece of news?” Brenda asked.
That was quick. Why didn’t she want more details? “I got called for jury duty again.”
“Hey, this could be your lucky trial. And think; you could be a juror on an extortion or corporate espionage case.”
“Yeah, but Celeste will be in town while I’m tied up.”
“Cheer up, you trust Steve,” Brenda said.
I expected more support. I wanted to bash Celeste a little, but I’d gotten nothing. The waiter arrived and we ordered margaritas, chicken quesadillas and cheesy nachos. Brenda continued to munch on chips and stared at the tablecloth.
“Earth to Brenda.” I waved my hand in front of her face.
“What?” Brenda asked as more salsa landed on her blouse—she needed a bib.
“Hey, what’s going on Brenda? Are you okay? You’ve trashed your pretty blouse.”
“No, I’m not okay. I haven’t told anybody this, but I got laid off from my job today. We were bought out by a large government contractor and they’re consolidating positions. They already had a HR specialist; they wanted to keep her instead of me. I’m lucky Lion’s Engineering has a generous severance package. I’ll be fine for the next couple of months. You don’t happen to need another Girl Friday, do you? Halo loves working for you.”
Poor Brenda. She’d worked for Lions Engineering since high school. She started as a receptionist and got her Human Resource degree at night school.
“I’m sorry to hear about your job. That sucks! But, I’d love for you to help out. Halo’s going to take care of my customers if I’m on jury duty. You could take care of the office: answer questions and take appointments. If you like the job and Halo works out as an investigator, maybe we could make you permanent.”
“That would be great! I haven’t even gotten my severance pay and I’m already working again. What time should I show up? I can’t wait to tell John.”
“Halo wanders in about 8:00 a.m. Have her swing by, and pick you up on her way in. She can show you the ropes before she heads out for the day.”
“I’m really excited. John wanted me to come over tonight, but I wasn’t in the mood—now I am.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Someone tickled my earlobe. That better not be Pete. The feel of fine sandpaper scraped along my jaw line had me fully awake. “Steve…,” I whispered.
“Corny, you have the sexiest dimple, right above your butt,” he said as he ran the tip of his finger up and down my spine, and stopped at my dimple. He replaced his finger with his tongue.
After a lot more warm kisses and soft touches, I experienced a roller coaster ride to Heaven. Steve was a maestro with his hands and mouth. Damp from sweat, our limbs entwined, we dozed.
****
I managed to crawl out of bed and not disturb Steve. I made a pot of coffee then set a fresh brewed cup on the nightstand; the rich aroma would have him up in no time.
Steve’s eyelids flickered and opened. He reached over and took a sip then mumbled sleepily, “Thank you.”
He finished his cup while I scoured my wardrobe. I tried to figure out what to wear for my first day in court. I sat down next to Steve, kissed his sexy mouth, and contemplated my wardrobe. Jeans and a T-shirt would be comfortable, but too casual. Business casual would probably be best. Navy slacks with twenty percent spandex and a cream-colored sweater set. The spandex was for my comfort, when my stomach expanded all by itself. No warning, one day I looked down and there was a Buddha belly where a flat belly lay the night before. I set my outfit aside. Now all I had left to do was worry about Steve’s ex.
****
Steve must’ve sensed my anxiety. He handed me a brown paper sack filled with chocolate Hershey’s Kisses.
“Corny, have fun today. Remember, the initial selection process is all computer-generated, but prospective jurors are interviewed by both the prosecutor and the defense counsel. They pick and choose based on your answers. Don’t get upset if you don’t get chosen,” Steve said.
“Do you think that’s going to happen?” I started to panic.
“No. I’m sure you’ll get chosen. Now, the chocolate is to keep you calm. Don’t eat all of them on the way to the Justice Center. Good luck and I’ll see you tonight.”
After another tongue dueling, body groping kiss, Steve left for work. I’d never dated a guy who’d buy a case of Hershey’s Kisses and keep them around for me. I bet Celeste didn’t eat chocolate kisses. Her loss.
****
Parking was limited and expensive in downtown Seattle. I was surprised when I found a spot in an underground garage near the Seattle Justice Center. The cost was high, but I considered the price reasonable when I looked out my car window and saw the heavy rain plummet the unlucky Seattleites without umbrellas.
I grabbed mine, popped two chocolate kisses into my mouth, and walked the short distance to the Justice Center. With a few minutes to spare, I stood under an awning and gave Steve a ring. The phone rang six times before he picked up.
“Hi, Honey. What’s up?” he asked.
“I have one quick question. Do the Marshals perform full body cavity searches?”
He paused, and chuckled. “Oh Corny… don’t bring anything you wouldn’t bring on an airplane and you’ll be fine. I’ve gotta go, babe.”
“Bye.” I already knew that, but I loved to mess with Steve. No alarms or sirens went off as I cleared security. I proceeded to the jury assembly room, which was located on the twelfth floor. Double glass doors led to a large room with several counters manned by clerks.
We all shuffled forward in line. When my turn came to check in, the clerk was scary-efficient. She slapped the laminated badge on the counter, pushed the square toward me with her red-lacquered, two-inch-long nails and recited the same spiel I heard her tell all the potential jurors before me.
“Here you go. You’ll need to wear this Municipal Court Juror’s Identification badge at all times during your jury service. Please return the badge when your service is concluded. Go down the hall and wait in the jury selection room, the last room on the right.”
I did as I was told; I was scared not to. An attractive woman in her mid-forties with a silver pixie cut and choppy bangs, walked in. She scanned the room and closed the door. She got everyone’s attention with a clap of her hands.
“I’m the Senior Court Clerk. Please line up single file, starting with the lowest juror number, and ending with the highest.”
We all lined up like little soldiers, and proceeded to the courtroom. As juror number six, I was positioned in the middle of the row, on the lower bench. A side door opened and the judge walked in and sat behind her bench.
“Good morning all,” the judge said.
Next, a robust man around fifty, in a gray pinstriped suit walked in. He sat at the far table, popped open his briefcase and took out a stack of papers. He lined up the stack, used the sides of his hands, and tapped them into a perfect triangle of paper.
The door opened again and in walked his complete opposite. The woman’s pantsuit was a half size too small. The top three buttons of her lavender satin blouse could bust wide open at any moment.
Distracted by her appearance, I missed when the defendant shuffled in behind her. His face looked fami
liar, even though the guy sported several days of unkempt growth. His hair was greasy, slicked back on his forehead and he sported the standard bright orange jumpsuit. He caught me as I stared and he sneered back. Well, he told me, except I wasn’t the one on trial.
The judge cleared her throat and said, “Good morning, jury. Each attorney will ask you several questions and all but eight of you will be dismissed. Six for the jury and two alternates. Please answer their questions as honestly and completely as you can. The prosecuting attorney today will be Mr. Miley and the defendant, Mr. Dickers, will be represented by Ms. Gordon. Mr. Dickers is charged with one count of battery on a police officer, one count of resisting arrest, and one count for disorderly conduct.”
Holy crap! Mr. Dickers was known by his friends and enemies as Dick. That was where I knew that ugly mug from. He was the animal-hater, my dog friends left a special present for. I’ve tried to forget that incident.
“Mr. Miley, you may start with your questions for the jurors,” the judge instructed.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” He stood and faced us. “Does anyone personally know Mr. Dickers or have any firsthand knowledge of the events that transpired on February 10 2013?”
I could honestly say no. I wasn’t anywhere near that train wreck. I was safely at home with Steve; he could vouch for me. A sixty-five-year-old woman, whose head reminded me of a Q-tip, in both shape and color, raised her hand.
“Go ahead juror fifteen, and tells us what you know,” Mr. Miley said.
She cleared her throat and told her story in a three-pack-a-day smoker’s voice.
“I know old Dick there pretty well. I was his neighbor for three years. About six months ago, all the tenants in our apartment received notice that our building was sold and we had ninety days to move out. The building’s being torn down to build another parking garage—like Seattle needs another parking garage. Anyway, I was lucky because I had somewhere to go. My daughter moved me into her lovely home, with my grandchildren. I’m much happier living with them than I was in that crappy apartment.” She took a deep breath, coughed and continued, “When Dick got his notice, he threw a loud party and the next morning he put all his crap in the hallway. I told him to put his garbage in the dumpster, but he gave me the bird. I couldn’t believe that little creep flipped me off. My guess is he’s guilty.”