by Artemis Hunt
“Is it true that you sold your penthouse and your car to invest in this business?”
Sam cringes, not wanting to hear the answer. She had suspected it for a long time, but now it is to be affirmed in court.
Brian says, “Yes. The new business required quite a lot of capital . . . and I believed enough in my friend and partner to want to take that chance.”
“Is this the same business partner who was charged with breaking and entering Ms. Faulkner’s apartment to procure those photos of you in Ms. Faulkner’s third bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Objection! No mention should be made of these illegally obtained photos!”
“Withdrawn. Go on, Mr. Morton.”
“I offered Ms. Faulkner money. The gym I invested in was starting to turn in some serious business, and I wanted to cut a long-term deal that would benefit Ms. Faulkner in installments . . . or in whatever manner she desired the money.”
“Are you aware you were committing a felony?”
“I was aware I was offering myself up to be blackmailed. But I was desperate at that time. I . . . I care very much about Ms. Fox and I didn’t want to see her charged because she tried to do something for me. Something the police didn’t do to dig deeper into the case.” Brian falters over this, and he shifts his gaze away from Sam’s, as if not daring to meet her eyes anymore.
“During this time, did Ms. Faulkner act frightened of you? After all, she did accuse you of rape.”
“No. She wasn’t frightened of me. If she was, she wouldn’t have asked me up to her apartment.”
“Yes. I find that extremely strange as well.”
“Objection! Conjecture on the defense counsel’s part.”
“Sustained. Stick to the facts, Ms. Sandler.”
“What did Ms. Faulkner decide?”
“She told me . . . that she didn’t want any money. But she wanted something else.”
“What did she want?” Karen is honing in. Going for the million dollar question.
Brian licks his lower lip. It’s a nervous gesture, but on him, it looks sexy. He can’t help it, Sam thinks with a tinge of sadness. He oozes sex in whatever he does, and now it’s getting him into a shitload of trouble.
Brian turns to the jury. “She said that she wanted to use me . . . in the way I use women.”
Murmurs run through the crowd. The reporters in the courtroom are tense, poised. This has suddenly become a juicy story and Sam can sense them closing in for tomorrow’s headlines.
The Judge picks up his gavel and taps it. “Order, order in the court.”
Norma Hennessey is bristling, but there is nothing she can object to. The Judge has already allowed Brian to tell his side. The audience settles down. You can cut the anticipation with a knife.
“What does that mean?” Karen says gently.
“She wanted me to have sex with her. She asked me if I had a wiretap. I said no. She asked me to take off all my clothes to prove it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“I was very anxious. I wondered if this was her ploy to yell rape again on me. But she assured me she wasn’t going to.”
“And you believed her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I have already been charged with the crime. Then she says that she will consider dropping the charges against Ms. Fox if I pleased her.”
“Pleased her. As in . . . sexually?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do then?”
“I had sex with Ms. Faulkner.” Brian won’t look at either Sam or Delilah.
“Consensually?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find it odd that she wasn’t frightened of you?”
“Not by then. Because those photos proved that there was more to the alleged rape that meets the eye. So I figured she had set me up.”
“What did you do after you had sex?”
“We had sex again. And then I spent the night.”
“Did Ms. Fox know where you had gone?”
“Not to my knowledge. I didn’t tell her about all this.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was afraid she would try to stop me.” Brian looks sheepish.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Because I didn’t think anyone would believe me. They didn’t believe me the first time.”
“After you spent the night, what did you do?”
“We had breakfast the next morning. Then . . . she wanted to have sex again. But in that room. The room in which she hung all the photos. It was then I saw the room for myself. All those photos she had taken of me throughout the years. Candid shots. Newspaper clippings. Internet printouts of my public appearances.”
The crowd is rustling again. Sam can feel their unrest.
“Did you have sex with her again?”
“Yes. I continued to have sex with her for a week. Three times a day . . . or night.”
“And this was the week before last?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone see you coming or leaving the apartment?”
“I don’t think so. Ms. Faulkner always asked that I come and go at times when there weren’t many people around. Like four in the morning. Or after midnight. And there wasn’t any doorman at her apartment building, unlike mine. She’d buzz me up each time I rang the doorbell.”
“Are you still having sex with Ms. Faulkner now?” Karen says, even though she knows he isn’t.
The crowd is silent now, hanging on to every word.
“No. We terminated the arrangement several days ago before this case started.”
“Why?”
Brian pulls in a deep breath. “Because she wanted more than I was willing to give her.”
“More sex?”
“Not just sex. She . . . wanted us to be . . . a couple.”
Karen raises her eyebrow. “A couple?”
“Yes. A normal couple. Well, as normal as you can define it. Dating. Going out together. A real relationship. The works. In exchange, she would drop the rape charges against me as well.”
Buzz surrounds the courtroom again.
“What did you say to her?”
“I said no. I couldn’t do that. We had a deal for two weeks, she would drop the charges against Sam . . . I mean Ms. Fox, and that would be it.”
“You weren’t tempted to take this deal?”
“I-I couldn’t promise to do something I couldn’t deliver. It was too much. It was indefinite. Besides, I couldn’t do that to Ms. Fox. Agreeing to this new . . . deal . . . would have meant I was not allowed to see Ms. Fox again in the way I’ve been seeing her.”
“Which is?”
Brian bores his liquid green gaze into Sam. His eyes are wide and guileless and he says, “Ms. Fox and I have been having a sort of . . . relationship for over a year. We are friends, business partners, and lovers.”
“Sounds like a comprehensive relationship,” Karen says.
Nervous laughter ripples through the audience. Sam can detect the slight wistfulness in the way Karen says this, but only because she was looking out for it. She wonders if Karen had always wanted Brian in that way. She wouldn’t be surprised if Karen did. Brian’s obvious beauty, charm and success affect people in brutal ways – ways they have no control over. Her own experience is a classic example. So much so she is willing to commit a crime for him.
The knot in her stomach tightens. What a sugar-coated mess I am.
“It is,” Brian agrees.
“How did Ms. Faulkner react to your decision?”
“She didn’t take it well. She said she would see me in court.”
“And here you are.”
“Here I am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morton. I have no further questions.” Karen shoots a look at Norma Hennessey, who is glowering. “Your witness.”
&
nbsp; Norma Hennessey gets up with a shuffle of her chair. Sam finds herself holding her breath. Norma has a look on her face that means war.
“So, Brian Morton,” she sneers, as if he’s already a convicted criminal cowering at the dock, “a thousand women. That is quite a record.”
“I’m not proud of it,” Brian admits.
“Quite a story you have detailed to the members of the jury.” Norma waves a hand around. “I’m sure you have stoked the imaginations of everyone here today. Brian Morton, former CEO of Vanguard Advertising. Current partner of ‘Shape’. Blackmailed into sex by the very woman who accused him of raping her. Are you asking us to buy this story?”
“It isn’t a story. Every part of it is true,” Brian says.
“So you say. It’s her word against yours as to what really happened. No witnesses, no evidence. Merely stories upon stories. You’re what most people would deem an attractive man, Mr. Morton, but come on.”
“I do have evidence,” Brian replies, refusing to be bullied.
“Really? And in what illegal manner did you or your business partner – ” Norma practically spits out the word “ – obtain it this time? You said there were no eyewitnesses. I’m sure everyone here is dying to know what you have conjured.”
Titters run through the masses.
Brian says, “In the last two weeks when I was seeing Ms. Faulkner, my lover and business partner, Ms. Fox, had a suspicion that all was not right with me. So she followed me one night without my knowledge.”
Norma throws up her hands. “More espionage.”
A few laughs from the gallery.
“And did you garner any evidence from this cloak-and-dagger enterprise, Mr. Morton?”
Brian glances at Sam. “Yes, in fact my partner has.”
It is Karen’s cue to stand up. “If the honorable Judge would allow it, the defense would like to call our next witness, Ms. Samantha Fox.”
13
“Your Honor, I must protest against this,” Norma thunders. “There was plenty of time for discovery here. This witness was not registered earlier in the defense’s case notes.”
“This is extremely new evidence, your Honor,” Karen says quickly. “It was procured only in the past few days, but it is extremely important to the case. Please, your Honor. We have come so far. The evidence presented here has been obtained without violating any laws excepting one.”
“Which one, Ms. Sandler?”
“The State Law involving Recording. But the person this violated has decided not to press charges.”
“Who is the violated person?”
“Brian Morton.”
Muttering in the masses.
“Very well, the witness may step up.”
Sam is extremely nervous as she makes her way up to the witness stand. After the swearing in and identification, Karen proceeds.
“Tell us what you did, Ms. Fox.”
“When my . . . friend, Brian,” Sam trips over the word, “started to act strangely in the past week, I was afraid he may have involved himself in something he couldn’t handle.”
“Define this.”
Sam takes a deep breath. She glances at Brian, who nods encouragingly.
“For the past year or more that I have known Brian, he has always been infallibly punctual and reachable by all methods of communication. We spend a lot of time together, and in the past few months, it has become an almost daily affair.”
Sam pauses. Now that she has articulated it, she realizes every word of it is true.
“So when I couldn’t get hold of Brian for two days, I started to panic. With everything going on in his life and the impending court case, I was worried that he would . . . do something stupid.”
“Such as?” Karen probes.
“My first thought was that he was in an accident, and I didn’t know about it. He had been seeing a shrink as well, and my second thought was that . . . ” Sam falters. She doesn’t want to mention the word ‘suicide’, especially not in present company.
“You were afraid he might have been hurt?” Karen says in a gentle tone.
“Y-yes. But then I had another suspicion, especially since I had been arrested for breaking and entering only days before. I acted on my instincts and drove to Delilah Faulkner’s apartment. I saw Brian’s Jeep parked in the visitor parking lot.”
“Did you take a photo?”
“I wasn’t in the presence of mind to do that. It was only after I went home that I began to think of what I should do. Especially when Brian showed up and wouldn’t tell me where he had been.”
“What did you decide to do?”
Sam’s stomach floats, and she tries to quell it by holding her breath, but it doesn’t work. “I asked a private investigator to procure a recording device for me.”
“You mean a bug?”
“Yes.”
The crowd is hanging on to every word.
Sam says, “It was in the shape of a button. It’s an extremely effective and sensitive device. My PI . . . he was ex-CIA or something. He got it for me for a huge sum of money. I sewed it into the hem of Brian’s leather jacket. It was what he usually wore.”
“And you have recordings of Brian’s conversations with Ms. Faulkner?”
“Objection!” Norma Hennessey is purple in the face. “Ms. Faulkner is not on trial here, your Honor!”
“But Mr. Morton is,” Karen shoots back, “and these conversations are vital to the case and in proving my client’s innocence!”
“Proceed, Ms. Fox.”
Karen makes a big to-do about setting up an iPad and two speakers on a table in front of the Judge’s desk. The jury and crowd are restless, murmuring to each other.
She presses ‘Play’.
Sam, with the help of Karen, has condensed the pertinent recorded conversations.
Delilah’s voice is obvious. Sam cringes. No matter how many times she listens to this, she can never get that creepy feeling out of her spine.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry. I got held up.”
“Fucking that perky Ms. Muffet again?”
“I got held up at the gym. I work there, you know.” Brian’s tone is short.
A pause.
“Take off your clothes, Brian.”
Silence. The hesitation is obvious even on playback. Slithering sounds.
Sam feels her skin crawl. She knows Brian has been with other women, especially in the earlier part of their relationship, but she can never be totally OK with it, no matter how much she tells herself she should.
“Come here.”
Kissing. Footsteps padding away.
A whine, and then a cut to another scene.
Brian’s voice. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“All this.”
“What part of it don’t you get?”
“Why you’re doing this. You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Brian.
“You hate me enough to set me up for rape. Tell me something, how did you do it, huh? Pills in my Jim Beam when I wasn’t looking? Sam mentioned this drug your company has on trials – CK . . . something. Is that what you slipped into my drink?”
Delilah’s voice is sharp. “Where did you get that?”
“I have my sources too. So what did you do, Adie? Strip me when I was unconscious and get my dick to stand up on its own? Did you have a good time fucking me when I was out . . . or making me fuck you?”
“Shut up, Brian. Get on the bed.”
“What? You gonna punish me?”
Noises. A clinking sound.
Brian, deadpan. “I’m not really into bondage as much as you like to think I am. Ow!”
“Shut up and lie still.”
“What would be the point?”
A scramble. Scene shift.
“I’m sorry, Adie.” Brian’s voice. Hoarsely.
“Don’t call me by that name.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry for what
I did to you in college. I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
“Shut up.”
Sounds of kissing. Sucking.
Scramble. Another scene shift.
“I want this. I want this to continue. I want us to be together. A couple. I want you, Brian. You owe me.”
“For how long will this new deal continue?”
“For as long as it takes.”
Pause.
“I can’t do that. I’m not in love with you.”
“You were never the sort of man to ‘do’ love. So don’t begin that sort of talk now.”
“You want me to live with you. Be your lover. For keeps. There’s no timeline definition. I can’t do that, Delilah. I can’t live like that.”
“You want to go to prison?”
“No, I don’t want to go to prison. But in prison, at least I won’t have to live a lie. So I’ll take my chances on the stand.”
“They are going to rape you in there. Someone with your face and body. You wouldn’t last a week.”
Karen lets the recording go on and finally wind down. The court has sat through two hours of recordings.
“The defense rests, your Honor,” she says with an air of finality.
14
Even though the evidence presented has been stark and clear, Brian is all wrenched stomach and fraught nerves. The jury has already taken three hours to deliberate. Three fucking hours.
Brian is freaking out in the waiting room. He had to use the washroom twice. He threw water on his face and scrubbed his hands, but he still couldn’t calm down.
By this time tomorrow, I may be serving a prison sentence.
“Relax,” Karen says, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Sam takes hold of his hands. “Brian, sit down. I’ll get a cup of coffee.”
“No thanks. I can’t relax.”
Angelique gazes out of the window into the gardens below. She doesn’t say anything.
Brian says anxiously, “It still doesn’t rule out that I didn’t do it. She never admitted out loud that I didn’t rape her. Not on the recording, at least. I don’t remember her ever admitting it once.”