Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2

by Whitney G.

  “We could put his ex-wife on the stand. She could vouch for his character.”

  “They were married for thirty days.” I rolled my eyes and looked at the intern sitting next to her. “And that was ten years ago. Bob, what do you have?”

  “It’s...It’s actually Bryan.”

  “It’s whatever I say it is. What. Do. You. Have?”

  “I was doing some research on his background and he apparently was reprimanded for breaking his university’s fire wall his senior year. We could start there and build a case around his past of anarchy...”

  I sighed. “He’s our client, Bryan. Why would we intentionally make him look bad?”

  He blinked.

  I turned toward the last intern in the room, a petite brunette. “What do you suggest?”

  “You’re not going to try to guess my name?” She smiled.

  “I just realized that you weren’t my janitor today. What do you have?”

  “This.” She slid a folder across the table. “If we’re trying to prove that he wasn’t in breach of his company’s policies when he took out his initial shares, we could use this case as a reference.”

  I opened the folder, reading the first line of a case that was not only over a hundred years old, but it had been overturned by the Supreme Court decades ago.

  “Did you all smoke the same drugs before your interviews?” I shook my head. “You’re in law school. A few years away from potentially having someone’s future in your hands and this is the type of shit you come up with?”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Hamilton...” Bryan spoke up. “Is there even a right answer to this question? I mean...Is this one of those ha-ha this was just a test to see how our minds work things? Is there really an answer?”

  “Yes.” I stood up.

  “Really? What is it?”

  “It’s go the fuck home.” I started stacking my papers. “All of you. Right now.”

  “But—”

  “Now.” I glared at them, waiting until they all left the room.

  The second I was alone I let out a sigh and sat down again. I was better off letting Jessica help me out on this case. She didn’t know shit about the law but I was sure that she would at least try.

  “Mr. Hamilton, I—” Aubrey stepped into the room with a cup of coffee. “Where did everyone go?”

  “Home.” I took the cup from her, frustrated. “You’re free to go, too.”

  “Are you ever going to formally give me my intern position back or am I forever stuck being your coffee and file organizer?”

  “You’re also in charge of taking phone calls. That’s a responsibility you shouldn’t take lightly.”

  “I’m serious...” She rolled her eyes. “As much as I enjoy having sex with you every morning with your coffee, I would like to go back to feeling like I actually have a purpose here.”

  “Fine.” I took a sip from my cup. “Have you been keeping up with my current case?”

  She nodded.

  “Great,” I said dryly. “How do you think I should proceed?”

  “I think you need to first get ahold of the man who erased your client’s identity.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  She took a folder from her purse and set it in front of me. “My parents taught me how to research someone’s background very, very well. That’s the one thing I can credit them for.” She flipped a few pages. “Your client has school records from his childhood—test scores, address changes, et cetera. There’s a record of where he attended college, grad school—even a record of the time he broke into his school’s firewall and got suspended for an entire semester. After that, there’s a short failed marriage to some woman he met in Cabo, and a few founding records for his company. But after that—with the exception of these recent allegations, there’s nothing.”

  I glanced at the pages.

  “Don’t you think that’s odd?” She looked at me. “How you can google someone and nothing about them pops up? How you can search several databases for information and find entire decades are missing?”

  I shut the folder. “It’s slightly odd.”

  “Slightly?”

  “Yes. Slightly. Is this all the evidence you have?”

  “It’s all the evidence you need.” She stared into my eyes. “Find the guy who erased him, or find the guy who erased you and you might have yourself another win under your belt. If not—”

  “Aubrey...”

  “People don’t just come out of nowhere, Andrew,” she said. “You know that, I know that, and I’m pretty sure your client knows that.”

  “Now we’re talking about the client?”

  “There is no record of Andrew Hamilton in any of state’s registered lawyer databases.”

  “I’m not facing a trial.”

  “I called every law school in the state and pretended to be an alumna searching for a fellow alum and there was no record of an Andrew Hamilton getting his degree from any of them.”

  “Are you that obsessed with me?” He smirked.

  “I did the same thing for the law schools in New York. That was a bit trickier, but the results were just the same. There was no record of you going to school during the years you would’ve been in attendance.”

  “And this affects you how?”

  “You humiliated me when you found out I lied to you.”

  “I apologize.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “You made me cry because you told me that I was a liar for hiding the truth and pretending to be someone I wasn’t.”

  “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be the only person to classify you as a liar after what you did.”

  “Yet, every day that I fuck you, every night that I talk to you on the phone, I’m no closer to getting to know anything about you.” There was concern in her eyes. “It’s always me talking about me, or you talking about abstract things that make up a blurry picture.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I told you that I—”

  “That you’ve never lied to me,” she said. “I believe that, and for a moment I thought that you were always completely honest with me, but when I look back, you’re only honest about what you want to talk about. Hence, the random appearance of Mrs. Hamilton, and—”

  “I’ve told you about that already.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her close to me. “So, I’m not going to waste my time rehashing shit I’ve already gone over with you.”

  “Just...”

  “Look.” I pressed my finger against her lips. “You’re the only woman I’ve fucked regularly in six years.”

  “Am I supposed to be proud of that?”

  I pulled her into my lap. “You’re the only woman—only person actually, that I talk to outside of my hours at this office, the only woman I’ve ever fucked over the phone, the only woman who’s been in my car, and the only woman who’s lied to me and still gotten me to stay...”

  She sighed, staring back at me.

  “Now,” I said, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to fuck you in this chair. And when we’re done I’ll kindly show you how to research someone the right way, because contrary to what you think, my client does have a background.”

  “No, I double checked everything and I—”

  I pressed my lips against hers. “After I fuck you.”

  Consent (n.):

  A voluntary agreement to another’s proposition.

  Aubrey

  Subject: New York /Your Panties

  For the record, I did go to law school in NYC. I was the valedictorian of my class.

  —Andrew

  PS—If you stash one more pair of your wet panties/“For your fetish” notes in my desk drawer, I’m going to assume that you do want me to sleep with your pussy over my face. My tongue has been aching to do that since I first “met” you so there’s no need for unnecessary hints...

  “Aubrey?” My mother’s voice took the smile right off of my face. “Aubrey, were you listening to your father just now?”


  “No, I’m sorry.” I sighed, dreading that I was still sitting at a dinner with them.

  They’d called me the second my rehearsal was over and demanded that I drive home so we could all ride to our “favorite” restaurant together. It was where all their country club friends ate regularly, and I knew they just wanted to come here to assert our seemingly perfect family image.

  “Are you listening now?” My father raised his eyebrow.

  “Yes...”

  “We brought you here so we could tell you that...I’m running for governor in the next election,” he said.

  “Do you want my vote?”

  “Ugh, Aubrey.” My mother huffed and snapped her fingers for the waiter. “This is one of the happiest moments of your life.”

  “No...” I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t...”

  “All those years of hard work, building our firm to be one of the most impeccable in the city,” she said as she looked into my father’s eyes, “it’s about to payoff in a huge way. We already have a few verbal commitments for the campaign’s budget, and since we’re going in on the same side as the incumbent—”

  “You have a really good chance of being governor.” I cut her off. “Congratulations, Dad.”

  He reached over the table and squeezed my hand.

  My mother couldn’t seem to shut up. “We’ll have to take new family photos—stocks, you know? Photos we can give to the press for their write-ups, so you’ll have to wear your hair in something other than that ballerina thing.”

  “It’s a bun.”

  “It’s an eyesore.”

  “Margaret...” My father chided. “It’s not an eyesore...It’s just—”

  “It’s just what?” I looked back and forth between them.

  “It’s important for us to look like a cohesive All-American unit on the campaign trail.” My mother took a glass of wine from the waiter and waited for him to step away. “We may have to make some stops together as a family.”

  “You’re running for governor, not President, and what twenty-something do you know travels with her parents during a campaign just for photo-ops?”

  “Our opponent has twenty year old twins who are homeschooled,” she said. “They travel to third world countries every summer to help the poor and I’m pretty sure they’re going to be at every stop on the campaign trail.”

  I snorted. “Why are you trying to compete with genuine people? Don’t you think they’re the type that deserve to win?”

  “Aubrey, this is serious.” My dad looked upset. “This has been a dream of mine for a very long time and we want to make sure that nothing stands in the way.”

  The two of them exchanged glances and I raised my eyebrow.

  “Nothing like what?” I asked.

  “Okay...” My mother lowered her voice and looked over her shoulder before speaking. “We need to know if there any skeletons in your closet—any pictures on social media that make you look like a party girl, any ex boyfriends’ or sexual partners that you may have dealt with, or anything that would make us look like bad parents.”

  “You are bad parents.”

  “Stop it, Aubrey.” My father gripped my hand and squeezed it hard. “The two of us have given you everything you could’ve ever wanted growing up and all we’re asking for is a small sacrifice from you.”

  “I don’t have any skeletons in my closet.” I gritted my teeth.

  “Good.” My mother put on her fake smile. “Then, when you pull out of school for your senior year to help us on the trail, it won’t look suspicious. We’ve already spoken to your department chair about online classes and they are, in fact offered. For the ones that aren’t, you’ll have to show up to campus to take those, but they make special considerations for students with circumstances such as yours so—”

  “No.” I cut her off. “No, thank you.”

  “This isn’t up for discussion, Aubrey. This is for the benefit of—”

  “Dad’s dream, right?” I tried not to lose it. “Because he’s the only person in this family who has a dream?”

  “Yes,” my mother said through her smiling teeth. “We’re talking about real dreams, Aubrey. Not no-chance-in-hell and failed ones.”

  “Excuse me?!” I stood up. “You want to talk about failed dreams when the two of you have failed more than anyone I know at the expense of your own daughter?” There were tears in my eyes.

  “Aubrey, sit back down.” She grabbed my hand. “Let’s not make a scene.”

  “Let’s!” I snatched my hand away. “Let’s discuss how I’m twenty fucking two and I’m a junior in college when I should already be a graduate! Shall we? Can you explain why that is?”

  My father’s face reddened and he motioned for me to sit down, but I stood my ground.

  My mother clutched her pearls. “Aubrey...We did what was best at the time, and even though switching school systems twice in two years was unfortunate, it made you who you are today. Now, the campaign won’t start until—”

  “I don’t care when the hell it starts. I’m not going on a pointless campaign trail, and I’m not taking any of my classes online because guess what?” I could feel my blood boiling. “You can’t learn fucking ballet online!”

  The restaurant was suddenly silent.

  “You two are beyond selfish and you don’t even know it.” I shook my head. “I’m voting for the other guy.” I stormed off amidst gasps and whispers from the other tables—slightly content that my parents’ picture perfect family had been publicly scratched a bit.

  “Your number, Miss?” The valet said to me as I stepped outside.

  “My what?”

  “Your number?” He tilted his head to the side. “For your car?”

  Shit... I sighed and looked over my shoulder.

  Patrons were pointing in my direction and I couldn’t bear to go back in there just because I didn’t have a ride home.

  I considered calling a cab, but I knew that was pointless. It would take forever to get here, and I could probably walk back to my apartment faster than they would arrive.

  There was a bus stop a mile or so down, but I only had a credit card. I doubted Andrew would come get me, but I decided to give it a try.

  Subject: A Ride.

  I really need a favor...

  —Aubrey

  Subject: Re: A Ride

  Wanting to take a ride on my cock in the middle of the day shouldn’t be considered a “favor” at this point.

  —Andrew

  Subject: Re: Re: A Ride

  I’m not talking about your dick. I’m talking about your car...Would you be able to pick me up right now? I was at a dinner with my parents but it didn’t end well...and I don’t have my car.

  If you can’t, I’ll understand.

  —Aubrey

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: A Ride

  Where are you?

  —Andrew

  Half an hour later, he pulled into the country club’s driveway.

  I slipped into his car before he could even park—not looking back at the snooty members who were probably whispering and wondering about what had happened between me and my parents.

  “I’m taking you home, right?” he asked as he pulled off.

  “No...”

  He looked over at me. “Am I taking you to GBH?”

  “If you want. Just not to my apartment.” I paused. “I’m sure my parents will stop by there after dinner and try to talk to me so...”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “Lost my appetite...” I said softly, then I smiled. “But if you’re interested in taking me on a date right now, I’m not opposed to that.”

  “Why would I take you on a date?”

  “Because you owe me one.”

  “Since when?”

  “You once said that you would take me out if we ever met in person, and you haven’t done it yet.”

  We approached a stoplight and he turned to face me.

  “If I was even vag
uely interested in taking you out right now—which I’m not, where the hell would I take you if you’ve already eaten dinner?”

  “Surprise me.” I shrugged and leaned against the glass—shutting my eyes. I could practically picture him staring at me, giving me that “You’re out of your damn mind” look, and as he steered the car back onto the street, I smiled—hoping that this would be the start of us going out regularly.

  I was dreaming of him kissing me in the gallery room again when I felt him gently shaking my shoulder.

  “Aubrey...” he whispered. “Aubrey, wake up.”

  I lifted my head and looked outside my window. There were lush plants and a massive glass paned building—an executive condo. My heart skipped a beat because I knew he’d never taken a woman to his place before, and I was happy that I would be the first.

  I looked over at him, ready to say something, but then I saw him fiddling with a green parking pass and I looked out the front window—seeing where we really were.

  Outside of a Hilton hotel.

  “Your idea of taking me on a date is bringing me to a hotel?”

  “It’s more about fucking you in the hotel.”

  “Andrew, this is where you take all your other dates...”

  “And?”

  My heart sank. “Do you not see why bringing me here would hurt my feelings?”

  “Would you prefer the Marriott?”

  I blinked.

  “They don’t have the same standard of room service,” he said, “but if that’s what you prefer—”

  “Just take me home—right now.” My voice cracked and I leaned against the window, shutting my eyes again. “I’ll deal with my parents...”

  ***

  I woke up on a plush leather couch, tucked underneath a soft black blanket.

  Sitting up, I saw that my shoes had been taken off and placed in a rack on the other side of the room. A tray of fresh fruit and chocolates were sitting on the small table in front of me, and there was a bottle of wine sitting next to two stemmed glasses.

  The room looked as if it’d been plucked from a magazine: silk white draperies, taupe walls, and portraits framed in silver. One of those portraits was of a fucking hotel, making it clear exactly where I was.

  I immediately tossed the blanket off—ready to find Andrew and yell at him for bringing me here against my wishes. I walked down the hallway, slowly noticing that the pictures hanging on the wall were of him.