by Cee Smith
“You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question because he could see it so plainly. I was nervous, but I was excited, too. My hands shook, and my feet couldn’t stop moving. Even when I was standing in place, I had to be moving something. Anything to expel all of the energy built up inside me. We had already had sex, but apparently my mind was well aware that a date was something much more.
“Will you just tell me where the box is?” I said while trying to read the big black writing on the side of the box. He flicked on another light that bathed that side of the room with a fluorescent glow, making it easier to read which box was what. Joel didn’t speak as he walked closer to where I was standing. He brushed past me, his body heat bathing my back as he continued deeper into the maze of boxes. After a few minutes of rustling and grunting, Joel pulled out two large boxes and placed them at my feet.
I read the labels claiming “wardrobe” and tore off the tape in a tornado blaze to check and see if the jeans that I’d spent years breaking in and that hugged my ass perfectly, along with the black blouse that made my boobs look amazing, were in there somewhere. Joel stood over me and the box, watching with a look of amusement as I whipped through carefully folded clothes to find what I was searching for. When I finally caught a glimpse of what I was looking for, I returned my sights to the man who stood quietly above me, watching.
“Uh, do you mind? If this is a proper date, you wouldn’t know what I planned on wearing until you picked me up.”
“Nothing about me, or us, is proper. Besides, I’ve already seen everything I need to when it comes to you.”
He winked at me, and I pushed at his shins, “Would you get out of here!” I yelled as he chuckled and turned to leave me.
I wanted more of that: more dates, more banter, more unexpected kisses under blackened skies and glittering stars.
Just then, the door opened and Lara’s boyfriend, Paul Twinings, emerged from the house. He looked just as unkempt as he did the first day I saw him—with wiry brown hair and a chin dusted with day-old scruff. His clothes weren’t designer; he was wearing faded black jeans and a plain white shirt that looked like it’d seen the inside of those dollar bins at Walmart. He got into his Grand Am, and when his car turned down the street, I followed him. It was just the opportunity I needed to get him in a public place and talk to him.
Over the weekend, Kerri gave me what little details of the case she knew of since I’d met with her last week. I was all the more worried about the proceedings scheduled for Tuesday because, as far as Kerri knew, Joel’s lawyer hadn’t presented them with any new information. She didn’t mention anything about the video from his condo, but she did say there was testimony of someone who used to spar with him at another gym that confirmed he was right-handed and usually led with his right—discrediting that the marks on her face were from Joel.
I had done my own research on Paul Twinings, and though he had a criminal record for petty theft, he didn’t seem to be any more of a threat than the average person. That didn’t make me any less nervous for what I was about to do because there was a multitude of ways our conversation could go. I played through each one as I followed him through the streets of Vegas.
When I wasn’t planning for my date that weekend, I was busy thinking of what I would say. How could I tell a man who clearly looked in love that his girlfriend was a user and would probably leave him the moment she got a little money in her bank? Even if he was part of her plan, I almost felt sorry for him. I was sure she would leave him at the first opportunity. The way he clutched onto her a few days prior—like she was his security blanket—let me know that he was invested in what he had with her. She was probably using him for a place to stay until she could cash out. Paul had to know what she was capable of. Now, I just had to find a way to convince him of his inevitable future.
Paul turned right down Lake Mead Blvd and into a shopping center. I pulled in after him, parking a couple lanes over between two SUVs that could hide my little Honda Civic easily.
My throat was dry and my palms sweaty as I watched him exit his car and head toward the stores of the plaza. Every other storefront was shopping or dining, so I couldn’t be sure if he was dining—which would be the perfect opportunity to talk to him, since he’d be caught off guard—or if he was just swinging by a store to pick something up. I hoped it wasn’t the latter because I didn’t exactly want to corner him in an aisle of Vons and try to convince him to tell the truth at the court hearing happening the following day.
I got out of my car, moving through rows of parked cars and scanning the parking lot as if someone watching me would be able to discern what I was up to with just a glance. My stomach tensed and sweat lined my forehead—both of which having nothing to do with the heat. I was used to the sweltering temperatures. What I wasn’t used to was trying to be stealthy while following someone.
Peeking around the back of a car, I observed Paul go inside a Chinese restaurant. I spotted a bench just outside the adjacent store and decided I would sit there until he received his food. He would be less inclined to get up and walk out if he had a plate of food in front of him. Or at least that was my reasoning as I sat bouncing my knee while waiting for the right words, the right time, and the strength to follow through with what I had to do.
What if he makes a scene? What if Lara is supposed to be meeting him here? What if I get to his table and choke?
What if he believes me?
The last thought steeled my nerves. I was doing this for the hope that he would listen and do something to help Joel. Anything was better than nothing. The idea of Joel going into the courtroom and getting slaughtered by my law firm made my chest ache. Joel didn’t deserve what was inevitably coming to him.
Ten minutes passed, which was sufficient time for him to order and the food to have arrived. I got up from my seat, paced in front of the door, and casually glanced in to see if I was right.
He sat with his back toward the door at a table not far from the hostess stand. The hand holding his fork moved to his mouth, confirming my assumptions. I looked around the restaurant to see if anyone else was in there with him and found a couple sitting just inside the door on the right and an elderly man sitting in a booth on the left side of the restaurant. The room wasn’t very big, with no more than 20 seats for diners. I met eyes with the thin woman whose black hair was in a bun standing behind the hostess counter. Her eyebrows rose in expectation, and I took that as a sign to proceed.
It’s now or never.
I sucked in a lungful of dry air and pulled the door open, the chime of the bell attached to the other side of the door rang out.
“How many?” the woman asked as she went to pull the menus from the side of the stand. My hands tangled together in my haste to stop her from drawing any attention to me.
“No, I’m…I’m OK,” I said as I motioned to Paul’s table. Luckily, he was either too busy eating or unconcerned with who was coming and going to turn around and find me fumbling for words.
The woman stepped aside, nodding her head in understanding, and I strode past her with a heart that felt like it was trying to flee my chest and make an escape. What I was doing was brave, stupid, reckless, and honorable, but the feeling I felt most was terrified as I drew up alongside his table and he stopped eating to take notice of me.
“You’re not expecting anyone, are you?” I whispered the words, low enough that I wasn’t sure he even heard me, but when he set down his fork and wiped his mouth, I was sure he had.
“No, but I’m not…”
“Then you won’t mind if I sit down. Will you, Paul?”
I rushed to sit down before he could object. He looked shocked, words frozen on his lips as I settled in.
“Do I know you?” Paul looked like he was expecting someone to come bounding into the building to tell him he was on some comedy show and this was all a part of a joke.
“No, not exactly. I’m actually here about your girlfriend.”
“Fuck this. Who
are you?” He scooted his chair back as if he were getting ready to flee, but I grasped his forearm stilling him.
“Wait. Please.”
“Who are you? You better get to the point real fucking quick, lady.”
“I’m a friend…of EJ’s.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean the ex that treated her like a slab of meat? Are you serious right now?”
“Yes, please just wait. I don’t know how much you know about what happened between them, but I know he didn’t do that to her, and I have a feeling that you do, too.”
“Are you calling my girlfriend a liar? Did you see what he did to her?”
“I saw what someone did to her, yes. And it was awful, but I’m telling you right now that it wasn’t him. He would never do that.”
“Well, if he’s so innocent then he has nothing to worry about tomorrow, and this conversation is pointless.”
He moved to get up again, and I stood blurting out, “Wait!” loud enough that I drew the attention of the other patrons, who all stopped eating to see what was happening there in the back of the restaurant. I smiled faintly at the hostess who still looked undecided on whether or not she was going to ask me to leave.
“Please. I don’t know how long you’ve known Lara, but I promise you whatever she’s promised you, it’s a lie. As soon as she wins, she’ll go ghost on you and you won’t so much as see an update on her Facebook feed.”
“I can tell you I’ve known her longer than you and know she wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me, and as soon as that money comes through, we’ll be out of here. Together.”
“I wish that were true, Paul, but think about it. Think about the kind of person she’s become. That money will technically be hers. Even if she takes you with her, you’ll just end up being her assistant, waiting on her hand and foot. You’ll be no more than a slave. You know I’m right.”
“I think I’ll take my chances.”
As he left the table, I looked around the room and could see the few patrons watching the commotion from the corners of their eyes. Paul stopped at the hostess stand, fishing money out of his wallet, handing it to the woman before storming out. I didn’t have to wait for the hostess to give me the stink eye before I made my escape.
That didn’t exactly go how I’d planned, but I said what I needed to say, and it was better than doing nothing. Only time would tell whether or not Paul would do something to help Joel. I had done everything I could do on my end, which wasn’t much considering that I was on suspension at work and Joel didn’t want me anywhere near the case.
Chapter Nine
Joel
The whole night before my trial I could barely look at Blaire. I didn’t need any more reminder of what I had to lose. There wasn’t anything else that had been running through my head since the phone call from my lawyer Friday night.
The only good thing to come of any of this was at least I knew the case was being held behind closed doors, and Blaire wouldn’t be there to watch my downfall. How would I tell her I lost? What would she do? Would she leave immediately? Or, would she stay out of pity for me, all the while knowing that it was only temporary?
Usually I was up before Blaire, but she was already sitting down in the kitchen when I came down dressed and ready for court.
“You’re up.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. Are you off to work?”
I straightened my tie feeling self-conscious that she could see exactly what I was dressed for. I couldn’t tell her what I was really doing. What if she wanted to be there to support me? Or worse, what if she didn’t care? It wasn’t like we had the whole “are we dating or not” discussion, and as much as I wanted to label what was happening between us, it wasn’t exactly the right time.
“Yes, I’ve got some things I need to take care of so I’m off a little early today, but I should be back sometime around lunch. Do you have any plans today? Another lunch with Kerri maybe?”
“Maybe. Did you want to stay and eat breakfast? I could make something for you.”
The somber way Blaire spoke made me feel like a dark cloud was hanging over the house, and though she didn’t know what today meant for me, she seemed unusually quiet and reserved for an ordinary morning.
“That’s OK. I have to go, but if you wait another hour or so, Dennis will be in. You could have him make you breakfast.”
“I’m not really hungry. I was just offering for you.”
I tried not to make eye contact with her, tried to overlook the look of pain that crossed those beautiful brown eyes that I continuously got lost in, but it was pointless. Blaire had this way about her that drew me in every time.
Walking over to where she still sat in the dining chair, I leaned over, brushing the stray hairs from her face so I could plant a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes closed and she inhaled slowly as my lips met her skin. She clutched the back of my blazer, pulling me closer until my legs brushed hers. Looking down her body ignited the desire in me. She was dressed in little shorts and a cami, and I could see an outbreak of goosebumps flood her skin and her nipples practically heaving for my attention.
It took everything I had to leave her like that—with her body begging to be noticed and mine looking to sink itself into every part of her.
Later. If I’m lucky.
Our eyes met as I pulled back—a flood of distance rushed between us, giving me the space I needed to remove myself from her. More importantly, giving me the resolve to settle things once and for all. Except when I pulled away, her eyes branded me with a look—one I couldn’t quite decipher, but it flashed through my mind the whole ride over to the courthouse.
I hated going down to that part of the strip. Vegas didn’t really have a “downtown” area, just a seedy, rundown extension of the strip—the area that the city intentionally passed over in all of those, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” ads. What happened on that side of town was the kind of shit that stuck with people long after the credit cards were paid off.
The people loitering around the surrounding streets were all dark—regardless of their race—from endless days spent in the sun. Their skin was bone dry like crumbling rocks; clothes hung from their skeletal bodies. Even the ones I was sure were hookers looked a stone’s throw away from death’s door. And that was just the homeless. Then you had drug peddlers and pimps fighting over street corners. Needless to say, it wasn’t my scene.
Jerry met me in the west parking lot like we’d planned. He looked sharp, his thousand dollar suit and brass cufflinks had the illusion of someone who was accustomed to winning. I only hoped it was true in this case.
“Are you ready?” he asked as we made our way to the side entrance.
“Don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“They don’t have any damning evidence, Joel, not really. In this case, she would need to prove your guilt.” His voice was quiet as he looked around, ensuring that no one could overhear this little pep talk he was giving me.
“Then, why don’t I feel good about any of this?”
He stopped just outside the door and looked at me sternly. I took notice of more than his suit. He was probably early fifties with a dusting of gray sprinkling his hair and mustache. He was shorter and slimmer than me, but he had the stature of a man who wasn’t intimidated easily. Everything about him fit the image of a lawyer.
“You have something to lose.” He looked at me squarely.
He was talking about my business, my money, my reputation, but the only thing I could think of was Blaire. Everything always came back to her. I wanted to do the right thing by Blaire, wanted to be good for her. I just didn’t see how that would be possible if we started out on a bad foot.
“Take a deep breath. Do everything I told you to. Be respectful to the judge. Don’t engage, address, or even acknowledge Lara. Stay calm and I’m sure everything will work out fine.
We walked in, and I was surprised by how much activity there was for a Monday morning, a time when I
figured most people were either on their way to work or were already at work. I watched a man empty his pockets into a small plastic bowl and walk through the metal detector. A red light blinked a few times and beeped, signaling he wasn’t cleared to gather his things and continue on. A police officer patted him down as Jerry and I moved in line to go through the same procedure. Men in beige officer uniforms lined the stone walls, while people navigated their way to and from the courtrooms or elevators.
Jerry and I made it through the detectors without any problems, and I followed Jerry as he led us to our designated room.
The room was smaller than I imagined, with oak wood covering every part of the room that blue carpet didn’t. As expected, the jury area was empty, and only the bailiff stood to the right of the judge’s bench. Lara and her team weren’t there yet, which allowed us time to get seated and hash out a few last minute things before the proceedings began.
“Don’t look at her,” Jerry rush-whispered to me just as the sound of the doors pushed open. Despite the carpeted floor, I could hear the sound of multiple pairs of feet make their way inside.
I didn’t look at her, but I knew the moment she was next to our bench. The smell of her drifted over to me, that nauseating floral scent that made her smell like a teenager shopping in the Pink section of Victoria’s Secret. She smelled like a little girl.
She coughed lightly, trying to cover a giggle that escaped. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was luring me to sneak one little peek of her, an accident of a look. But I stayed committed, staring at the wood grain of the bench ahead of me.
The door to the judge’s chambers opened and the bailiff said, “All rise,” and Jerry and I both stood as the judge entered to our left. The woman who walked in looked to be swimming in her robes. She was short with dark brown hair that barely touched her shoulders and deep brown eyes that looked young despite her age—something I figured to be around Jerry’s.
The judge introduced the case, and Lara’s team immediately jumped into presenting followed by her being sworn in. I still didn’t watch her, focusing my sole attention on the judge. Lara’s heels sounded deep and hollow as she clomped her way up to the stand. I listened as the bailiff swore her in. Her voice was sugary sweet, a sound I’d heard a million times when she was around people who could do something for her. It was the same sound she used around me before she snagged me.