Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

“Jada McLean?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “We have a warrant to search these premises,” he says, handing me a paper.

  I hand it over to Bobby, and he looks at it, then at me, and gently nods. “They want your laptop.”

  “Please don’t break through the door,” I say to the officer. “I’ll let you in. My laptop is on the coffee table in the great room.”

  I walk from the car to the door; all eyes and weapons follow me. I feel strange. Surreal might be the better word. I feel like I’m watching a movie, but I’m in it. After I deactivate the alarm, the officers run through the house. There are probably fifteen of them. Within twenty minutes, they are out. The house is slightly disheveled but mostly unscathed. They take with them my laptop and my writing pad.

  All the joy I felt for most of the day it gone. I call Charles to let him know once they’ve left. He tells me that two private investigators have begun researching my case. I guess now I sit and wait to see what they come up with.

  Almost immediately, we head back out to get my laptop replaced. Bobby tells me they can hold it as evidence for as long as they want, so buying a new one seems like the most practical thing to do.

  When we return home, Charles calls to let me know that Richard’s funeral is the next day. I am still antsy about it. Up until now, Linda has not returned my call. It could be because she’s busy dealing with stuff, it could because she hates me, or there’s also the possibility that she never got my message. I think about it for a while and decide I should take my cue on whether or not to attend from her. I dial her number and nervously wait.

  “Hello,” a woman answers. I think it’s her.

  “Linda?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Jada. I’m so sorry. I called before but—”

  “Well, maybe you should take a hint!” she shouts then hangs up. I guess that answers my question. Since I am not certain if his mother feels the same way, I arrange to have some flowers sent to her along with a heartfelt card. I’ve tried. At this point, I don’t want to cause his family any more grief than necessary.

  I guess Linda’s attitude must mean that she believes that I had something to do with his death. I don’t expect anything from her. We were always just polite with each other at family events. His mother was always sweet, though.

  * * *

  This week has been difficult. Since I found out about Jada’s ex, when I’m not working, I follow every public detail of her case.

  I barely know her, but I have to admit the way this woman has captivated my mind leaves me wondering what I would do should her case ever come to my desk. I hope and pray that it doesn’t.

  On many occasions, I argue points in her defense while I listen to some of the media judge her and allude to her guilt. I’m thankful that she has a lawyer as a brother who probably told her to keep her mouth shut from the very beginning of this case.

  Friday is two days away, and while I am looking forward to seeing Howard and his wife, I’m hoping that, somehow, I run into Jada.

  * * *

  The next couple of days quietly go by. No new twists or turns and no police raids or arrests, but it gives me time with my brother.

  Bobby suggests that we enjoy something fun in the area this Friday night, but my mood all day has been iffy. It’s almost seven in the evening, and I still can’t seem to pull myself together. Perhaps it’s because somewhere in my subconscious, I am aware that if all had gone according to plan, we should have been at a big dinner party right now. All our closest family and friends would have been there getting ready for the big day tomorrow.

  I flip through the TV channels aimlessly, and I pause on a live show with a bunch of women talking.

  The blonde one says, “She loves her fiancé, but because he screws up once, she can, within hours, cut him completely out of her life. She never really was in love in the first place.”

  I realize that they’re discussing my life, talking about me, and now I’m curious, so I keep watching.

  The feisty redhead replies, “The man was a philanderer! If the rumors are true, she caught him doing the business with her best friend, in her home.”

  How the hell could they have possibly found that out?

  “That’s not just one betrayal you have to deal with, it’s two,” the redhead continues. “Can you imagine finding all this out just days before your wedding?”

  “Look, just because the woman was hurt doesn’t mean she’d go crazy and kill the man or have him killed,” says a brunette.

  Thank you.

  “Well, there’s also a rumor that she might have done this for money,” the blonde insists.

  “Give me a break. She owns one of the most glamorous luxury hotel chains in California. She doesn’t need his money. In case you hadn’t noticed, her net worth is at least ten times his.”

  Really?

  “Well, I think she did it,” the blonde exclaims. “I think she did it because she was pissed off at him, and she didn’t want her best friend to end up with her man.”

  They could have had each other for all I care.

  “You’re not making any sense. If that were the case, wouldn’t she ignore what she saw and gone on with the wedding anyway?”

  My head is spinning. I’ve had enough. I shut the TV off and head into the living room. I hear Bobby’s voice. He’s talking to a woman. I realize they’re on Skype. It must be Val. My guess is right. He introduced me to her yesterday. She seems perfect for him. I quietly wave then head over to the kitchen to get something to drink. I’m hungry. I look in the microwave but Big Brother didn’t cook anything.

  Moments later, he ends the call.

  “Go get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner,” he commands.

  “It doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”

  “You don’t.” He smiles.

  I throw on a cream sweater dress and let my hair loose over one shoulder. With a tad of makeup, I throw on some matching stilettos, and I’m out in a record twenty minutes.

  “You look nice,” my brother says as we step into the car.

  “Nice… thanks, that’s just the word we women are always dying to hear.”

  “If Val were in that dress, I’d tell her that she looks hot… but you’re my sister.”

  “Immm hmmm.” I laugh.

  “So tell me about Jonathan, the asshole.”

  I try to stifle my gasp. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  For some unknown reason, I find myself blushing uncontrollably, and I’m thankful for the cover of the night’s darkness.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “Is that so?”

  “Jonathan is Charles’s son. He’s the DA in San Francisco.”

  “Is that all he is?” he asks.

  “Yes. What are you getting at?”

  “You really need to be careful what you say in your sleep?”

  Shit.

  “What exactly did I say?”

  “Well, on two separate occasions, once in the car when we drove back from Reno and this afternoon when you slept on the couch, you mentioned him in your sleep.”

  “Well, it’s nothing you need to be worried about.”

  “I’m not worried. I find it intriguing.”

  “Well, it’s nothing to be intrigued about,” I retort. “He’s an obnoxious jerk, and our paths managed to cross each other’s a few times.”

  “Right…” he replies, seemingly unconvinced.

  I can tell because he has that stupid grin on his face.

  “Bobby, what’s your point?”

  “Nothing… nothing…” he sings.

  I have no idea where we’re going, but he pulls through some stately gates. After a bit of a drive through well-lit manicured grounds, we arrive at a parking lot. Through the buildings and the trees, I can see the silvery moonlight sparkling over the midnight blue waters. My brother knows me well. Take me to a place with natural beau
ty and I’m happy.

  We enter the building, and all around from left to right, the large fixed glass windows seem to brace the log-vaulted ceilings. It overlooks panoramic lake views. I don’t think I can ever get tired of this place.

  “This is beautiful. How did you find it?”

  “The internet. You realize we’re in Nevada?”

  “I didn’t notice. This is awesome. I hope the food is as good as the place looks. I’m starving.”

  “The reviews were excellent.”

  We’re in the middle of dinner when I get the strange feeling that someone is watching me. I scan the room, and my eyes collide with his piercing greys. I freeze. He smiles and raises his glass in acknowledgement. I smile and tip my head in return. If only we could have been so pleasant with each other the last time we were together.

  He sits in a party of about six. It’s two guys with four women. I can’t remember what Malibu Barbie looks like, but I’m pretty sure that she’s not included in that group. Bobby follows my gaze.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Mr. Asshole,” I reply.

  He nearly chokes on his wine.

  “Jonathan Kole?”

  “Yep, the one and only.”

  “He’s your type.”

  “I don’t have a type. And don’t be fooled; looks can be deceiving. All he is is a jerk wrapped up in nice packaging.”

  “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?”

  “Give me a break. He’s rude, entitled, and he has no respect for people that he deems as below him. As we’d say back home, he has no broughtupsy—absolutely no manners.”

  “And you deciphered all of this after only one encounter?”

  “Actually, three.”

  “Did you two date?”

  “No,” I exclaim. “My first encounter was last weekend at brunch. He wanted me to change my seat so he could make some grand proposal to his girlfriend.”

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Nothing… if he’d asked politely. However, he was rude to the host and to me. Pulling that ‘don’t you know who I am?’ garbage on me.”

  “He said that?”

  I nod.

  “What did you say?” he continues.

  “I told him he could be the king of England and I wouldn’t give a damn.”

  Bobby laughs.

  “Then there was a minor accident out in the parking lot, and I scratched his precious Bentley trying to avoid a seventeen-year-old in an out of control Corvette.”

  “You didn’t tell me this.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. That’s where the scratch on my front bumper came from. The boy’s father agreed to pay for the damage. I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I’ll send it to the dealer the next time I’m in San Francisco.”

  “You said three.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve told me two. You said you had three encounters.”

  “Oh. David called later that day… the accident boy’s father. Actually, right after I got off the phone with you last Sunday. He invited me to dinner at his house later that evening. Mr. Asshole was invited as well. Unfortunately, I found out after it was too late.”

  “Interesting. So did you two exchange words at dinner too?”

  “For a short time, but we managed to be on our best behavior for most of the night. That is, until he dropped me home.”

  “Wait, where did that come from? Why’d he have to drop you home?”

  “David lives down the road, so I walked. It’s just three houses down the street. Anyway, they insisted he drop me off. Quite frankly, I was grateful. The temperature had dropped drastically that night.”

  “So no goodnight kiss?”

  “Absolutely not!” I look at him, stunned by his question. “I said some rude things and he took some low blows. By the time we got to the house, he insinuated I was a rich bitch and I told him he was an asshole. So you see, the feelings are mutual.”

  “Right…” he replies, looking at me curiously. “So where was his fiancée that night?”

  “He said she turned down his proposal. Smart girl…”

  “Fascinating.”

  “What’s so fascinating about that?”

  “Nothing…”

  “Which one is she?” he asks, referring to the group at the table.

  “I don’t think I see her here. Maybe that caused them to break up.”

  He laughs sarcastically.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re holding out on me.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “I’m not,” he laughs. “Dessert?”

  “Sure,” I reply. “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room. Order me something nice.”

  “Sure thing…” He stands as I leave the table.

  In the bathroom, I look into the mirror checking my outfit and making sure my makeup is perfect. Suddenly, it crosses my mind that that asshole told the police where I was. Is he out to get me like the rest of the SFPD? I bet he’s dying to get me onto a stand so he can tear me apart.

  I return to the table. A massive piece of chocolate cake awaits me with a glass of wine.

  “Thanks for dessert,” I say. “Do you think he was the one that told the police where I was? Do you think he’s keeping tabs on me?”

  “Jada, you’re being paranoid. Prosecutors aren’t part of the investigative process… most of the time. That’s the police’s job.”

  “But he knew where I lived. The police knew exactly where to find me.”

  “Sweetie, the police could find out where you were in a hot second. Any email or cell phone signal could give them an idea if not an exact location of where you were. They don’t need him to do that.”

  “I hope you’re right. Two weekends in a row? Don’t DA’s work their asses off through the weekends?”

  “Some do. Some play it smart. Some delegate.”

  “Oh yes—to the little people,” I reply sarcastically.

  “I think you’re wrong about him. He likes you.”

  “Where would you get that crazy idea from?”

  “His eyes followed your ass from this table to the bathroom and back again once you left here.”

  “Well, maybe he just likes ass. I doubt he finds anything remotely special about mine.”

  “Is that why he’s been looking over here all night?”

  “Oh, stop being ridiculous.”

  “You know what?”

  I stare at him in silence.

  “I think you like him too.”

  I feel the heat rise up to my cheeks. “You’re wrong. Might I remind you that I was supposed to be getting married tomorrow?”

  “What does one have to do with the other?”

  “Leave me alone,” I snap. “You think I’d hop into a relationship ten seconds after I catch my ex and my best friend together?” I’m annoyed. “I may have ended things, but that doesn’t mean that I’m ready for another relationship. Besides, if any of that garbage were true, he wouldn’t dare risk his precious career on me. Not that I care anyway.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says calmly.

  “I’m not upset,” I murmur. “I’m probably just a little anxious with everything that’s been going on. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  He puts his hands over mine and squeezes tightly.

  “Don’t worry about it. You’ll make it through this. I’m always here for you. Remember that.”

  “I know. Thank you for being here and for extending your trip. It’s been a while since we spent this much time together.”

  “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” He smiles. “Ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  The server arrives with the bill. After an argument with Bobby, I eventually succeed in paying it. We proceed to leave, but on the way, Bobby excuses himself to head to the bathroom. He tells me to wait for him at the bar, which is towards the opposite end of
the room.

  A jazz quartet plays. They’re playing one of my favorites—Nature Boy. I grab a seat at a cocktail table and listen. A server comes by, and I order a digestif for myself. I think Bobby will prefer a glass of pinot noir.

  Moments later, the server returns. It’s getting crowded in the room, and ten minutes later, when Bobby is still M.I.A., I call his cell.

  “Hello,” he answers.

  “Where are you? I ordered you a glass of wine and saved you a seat.”

  “I’m making my way through… I was giving Mr. Asshole some time to make his move.”

  I’m so glad he’s not in front of me, because I can’t seem to stop blushing.

  “Stop being ridiculous and get over here…” I say, ending the call. I can’t suppress my enormous smile.

  He arrives soon after. The band is fantastic. Many people gather round to listen, and soon, the room is packed. We stay for over an hour. It would continue to be enjoyable if it weren’t for one or two rambunctious drunkards. We agree to leave.

  We walk. Bobby’s ahead of me, and as I am nearing the exit, a woman trips near the bar. A man is standing near her, but as she falls, she knocks the glass of red wine he holds out of his hand, and it lands straight on my dress, my cream cashmere dress.

  The stain runs all the way from the top to the bottom.

  Don’t get upset. It was an accident.

  “Oh gosh. I’m so sorry,” he says.

  I look up to see none other than Mr. Asshole in front of me.

  “Jada. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I reply coolly.

  The woman then stands and apologizes. She’s giggling, and it’s at that point I realize she’s drunk. A waiter comes to my assistance and suggests water or club soda, but as this is cashmere and it should only be dry-cleaned, I already know this dress is finished.

  “You know what, don’t worry about it,” I say.

  “Are you sure, Miss?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Thanks,” I reply.

  I head out of the door to meet Bobby, who’s awaiting me in the foyer, and I hear my name from behind. It’s him, again.

  “Jada, I’m so sorry about this. Please, let me at least pay to have it cleaned.”

  “Jonathan, that really isn’t necessary. It wasn’t your fault. If you want to help, just make sure your friend doesn’t have any more to drink. Otherwise, you’ll be paying a lot of people’s cleaning bill tomorrow.” I realize that might have come off slightly harsh. I smile softly. “Thanks for offering, though. I’m sorry; I have to go. Someone’s waiting on me.”