by Lane Hart
"Oh, Mr. Malone," the receptionist calls out to me when I start walking back to Page's office. I'd done the same thing for almost a month now.
"Hey, Jamie."
"Page and everyone else are already in the conference room."
"Oh," I mutter. Page didn't mention a meeting with anyone.
Instead of her office I head in the other direction. I wasn't expecting to see my dad, Jude, Coach Briggs and some guy in a suit sitting at the table with Page. When her eyes quickly lower I know exactly what's going on. It's a fucking intervention.
"I'm not pleading!" I yell. How many times do I have to tell them that?
"Jax, just sit your ass down and listen to what they have to say," my dad snaps.
I force myself down into one of the chairs with my blood pressure climbing through the damn roof.
"Jax, let me tell you about it before you yell or say anything, okay?" Page asks softly.
"Let's hear this bullshit yet again."
"This time we have a real, legitimate plea offer from the prosecutor. You'd plead to one count of misdemeanor assault on a female. Even though with your clean record you would normally be in the low end of the sentencing range, the prosecutor insisted on a maximum sentence of ten months active that would be transcribed. So that's the exact sentence you would get. No more. Then you'd be on supervised release for two years after that."
"With only a misdemeanor you might even be able to fight again, Jax," Coach adds.
"No," I say without hesitation.
"Jax..." almost everyone at the table starts in on me.
"I didn't do anything wrong, and I'm not going to be locked up in a shitty fucking prison for ten months when I'm innocent!"
"Page said she's been over the maximum sentences with you if convicted, correct?" the suit asks.
"Yeah, a shitload of years."
"Right. Going to trial is a huge gamble," he says. "You could win big and walk out, or you could lose big and end up spending twenty some years in prison on felony convictions. When you get out as a convicted felon your employment options will be seriously limited. This plea is a guarantee of only ten months, and it's only a misdemeanor."
"I'm sure from each of your points of view the plea looks like a no-brainer. But none of you will have to stand up in front of the world and say 'I'm guilty' of something you didn't fucking do, or be locked away in a concrete box for ten months. So, however great it looks on paper, I'm not signing that shit."
"Then we'll need you to write 'rejected' in big letters across the front page of the plea and then sign and date that notation," the suit says, passing me the paper and a permanent marker.
"Wait!" Page exclaims. "Can you all give us a minute?"
Everyone stands up and leaves the conference room so she can try and convince me one-on-one.
"Page, don't waste your time," I warn. Ignoring me, she comes around the table and climbs on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me. "You can't fuck me into submission," I tease her, but when I pull back I see the tears running down her cheeks.
"I don't want to lose you," she says softly.
"I know, and I don't want to have to spend years locked up away from you," I tell her, wiping away her tears. "But you can't ask me to do this. This, pleading guilty, will break me, more than serving a sentence from a conviction will. I need you to support me on this. I've got faith in you and the system that I'm going to walk out of that courtroom a free man."
"But what if I let you down?" she asks, pressing her wet face to my chest.
"You won't let me down. That's one of only two things in my life I'm certain of."
"Are you sure? Because I'm not so sure," she mutters through sniffles.
"I'm sure."
"What's the other thing that you're certain of?" she asks after a moment.
"That I'm truly, madly and deeply in love with you."
She laughs and tightens her arms around my neck. "I love you, too, you pain in the ass."
After a shaky breath, she pulls away and turns around to grab the plea agreement. "Here, reject it so we can get back to work preparing for trial."
"Hell yes," I agree. With the fat permanent marker I write the word "Rejected" in huge letters then sign and date it.
"There's one other thing that as your attorney I need to discuss with you. Just don't yell at the messenger," she orders, standing up from my lap.
"Okay." I already know I'm not going to like what comes next.
"Ryan mentioned that sometimes these cases go away, as in get dismissed, after a civil settlement."
"Let me stop you right there, because if you even suggest that I should give this bitch a fucking dollar I will go ballistic."
"I don't think you should, no. But as your attorney it is an option that has to be discussed with you."
"Never. I'd write a check giving away every penny I have to charity before I let that whore have any of it."
"Good. Let me get them back in here, just so Ryan can be another witness that you don't want to engage in civil settlement negotiations," she say, grabbing tissue to wipe her face.
"Then can we go back to my place?" I ask. As what feels like the doomsday clock ticks down I want to spend every waking minute with Page.
"Your place?" she asks in surprise. "So I finally get to see your bachelor pad?"
"Yeah," I respond, trying to find the courage to tell her what I've been thinking about more and more lately. "And if you like it then I hope you might consider sharing it with me after I'm found not guilty."
"Really?" she asks with a smile, one that quickly fades. "But then everyone will know..."
"Can we just not worry about that until the time comes?"
"Okay," she agrees.
…
Page
I'm nervous and excited as I park my Mercedes in the lot of Jax's apartment building. He'd given me directions before leaving the office, and now here I am looking up at what appears to be a brand new tower, standing moderately high in downtown.
Heading inside I climb in the elevator and hit the number twelve to begin the ascent to the top. When the door opens I wonder which way to go, but soon realize there's only one apartment up here - Jax's. After a quick knock on his door he pulls it open and smiles in greeting.
I can't help but look past him into the big open room behind him.
"Wow, this place is really nice, Jax."
"Thanks," he replies as he steps aside to let me in.
The glass ceiling and entire wall of windows make the already massive space seem even larger, handy for a man that doesn't like small spaces. There are various beautiful potted plants and shrubs around the wooden deck that juts out over the city. The double balcony doors are open, so I head out them to get a better look. A patio set of chairs with thick cushions and a long bench seem like perfect places to sit and relax, along with the hot tub. More doors further down the way are open, leading into the bedroom and kitchen.
The entire place is so serene, done up in whites, creams and a touch of gold. It's not at all what I expected for the tough, angry man, but it makes sense that he'd want a calming fortress when he's not fighting. A place that's the opposite of the metal cage.
I know without a doubt that I can't let him go to prison. That place will take the man I'm in love with and make him bitter, and so angry that I'll lose him forever. I'll just have to do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn't happen to him.
"What do you think?" Jax asks when he comes up to the balcony ledge beside me. The sun's starting to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange, pink and purple.
"It's beautiful," I tell him.
"It is," he agrees as he turns to face me, "But after three years it's never really felt like home, until now."
His sweet and sincere words tighten my throat.
"Why don't you show me your bedroom so I can start plotting how to take over all the closet space?" I say with a smile.
"You can have it all, princess," h
e says before capturing my lips with his.
…
The summer is flying by, and it's hard to believe it's already the Fourth of July. Maybe it just seems to be passing quickly because I'm counting down what might be Jax's last few days of freedom. We've spent almost every second together during the days and nights. Trial preparations are all but wrapped up. We have a strong case but...I just don’t know if it's strong enough to win because of those damn pictures.
"Page, did you get a chance to talk to Coach Briggs the other day in your office?" Jax asks, interrupting my incessant worry. "He grew up around here with your dad."
"Not really," I say, holding out my hand out to the very large man with a round belly.
"Thanks for all your help with Jax's case, Page," Coach Briggs says with a smile. "And thanks for coming."
"Thanks for the invitation."
Jax explained that every year all the gym guys get together for a July Fourth cookout at the coach's house, since he has a huge in-ground pool in his backyard. Apparently being an MMA coach/manager pays really well. Or maybe it pays well because he has Jax fighting on his team.
"Page, this is my daughter, Sadie," the man says, referring to the small girl beside him. Underneath the dark makeup and goth-ish baggy clothes, you can tell she's a very pretty girl, and she seems to be entranced by the mostly naked buff men running around her backyard. She stands beside us in awe, twirling one of her long brown braids.
I feel her pain, since I'm the only other female having the pleasure of viewing this overload of hotness.
There's a ton of ripped men with more guns than a military base. These aren't just alpha males, these are the alphas that can beat the shit out of most other alphas. I follow her line of sight and, oh yes, out of all the available eye-candy she's staring at the very sleek and sexy Jude Malone.
"So, Sadie, how old are you?" I ask when the two men are distracted talking about tonight's pay-per-view title fight or whatnot.
Her green eyes, hidden behind thick glasses, finally blink over at me. "Huh?" she asks.
"Hi, I'm Page, Jax's girl...attorney," I try to quickly catch the slip.
"His girl attorney? Does he have a boy attorney, too?" She laughs. "Don't worry, I get it." She’s a smart and very perceptive girl.
"So how old are you?" I ask.
"Sixteen."
"Ah. Then unfortunately you’re a little on the young side for him."
"What? For who?" she asks.
"Hey, Jude," I yell in greeting, effectively setting off a horrible rendition of The Beatles' song by several deep, off-key voices. After splashing the guys and then flipping them off with both hands, Jude looks over and smiles. The girl beside me gasps at the six feet of gorgeousness headed our way.
"Page!" he says with his dripping wet approach. "How many times have I told you, 'Hi, Jude' is an acceptable greeting, and so is 'Sup, Jude,' or 'Hey, Jackass.' Anything but 'Hey, Jude.'"
"Sorry." I laugh. "Lesson learned. I wouldn't want to hear that God awful singing, either."
"How's it going, Jude?" I'm surprised when the girl beside me bravely speaks up.
Jude shivers and looks around for a towel, grabbing one from a nearby lounge chair to use to dry off. "Hey, Sadie," Jude responds, barely acknowledging the doe-eyed teenager. "So, Page, you all set for trial?"
"As ready as we can be," I reply. I hate seeing the worry and fear that clouds his normally upbeat expression. "You ready to testify?"
"Oh yeah," he says with a smile.
"Try and keep the sex sounds as tasteful as possible," I remind him.
"Hey, I'm going to answer accurately and honestly, so if the judge doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass."
I sigh and shake my head when my eyes go back to Jax and his coach, still deep in discussion. "So who's fighting tonight?" I ask Jude.
"Mike Jacobs is the idiot who agreed to take on Linc Abrams this year," Sadie says right away. "Linc's the current world welterweight champion and he defends his title every July Fourth. He's won by first round knockouts the last three years in a row."
Jude looks over at the girl in surprise, like she’d just magically appeared.
"Linc?" I ask. "That's an unusual name. It sounds like he's really good."
"Yeah, and he's really hot," Sadie replies, to which Jude scoffs.
"All the more reason to watch tonight." I laugh. "Aren't you a welterweight too, Jude?"
"Uh-huh."
"He's ranked fifth in the country," Sadie speaks up for him.
"Really, Jude?" I ask, and he nods. "That's awesome!" I exclaim, but he just shrugs modestly.
"Does Jude have a nickname?" I ask Sadie, figuring she'll know.
"Yeah, um, The Matrix because of how fast he moves ducking and dodging opponents' swings and kicks," she says. The girl is like a walking, talking MMA encyclopedia.
"And because of how fast he dodges women," Jax adds when he joins our conversation, slipping an arm around me, to which I side-step. Even if everyone here probably knows we're together we can't risk it in public
"Too bad you didn't learn that skill, bro," Jude counters.
"If I hadn't been a player then I wouldn't have gotten charged, and then I never would've met my incredibly beautiful and smart attorney that's going to keep me out of prison."
"I really hope you're right," Jude says sadly.
The pressure on my shoulders is almost too much to take. I'd been meeting with Ryan, our state court criminal defense attorney, several times a week since he's still too swamped to second chair Jax's case. He thinks we're ready, but I'd feel better if he was there in the courtroom with us, making sure I don't screw up.
Chapter Fourteen
Page
Each day is more stressful than the last as we get closer to the trial date. Jax is sleeping less and less each night, and I would know because I'm usually awake beside him in his bed. Whenever he realizes I'm not able to sleep either he makes love to me, both of us losing ourselves in each other to try and fight off the worry.
The night before the first day of trial I barely slept more than an hour or two in the hotel bed. I was ready to get it over, but in a way I just wanted to hide out in our room instead of go to the courthouse.
It takes hours to pick a jury since everyone had seen or read something about Jax's case due to all the media coverage. At last we agreed on a dozen jurors, and much to my satisfaction, seven were female. I knew Jax could persuade them to his side.
The men weren't too bad either. Two were young, in their twenties, which I thought would work in our favor since they would be able to put themselves in Jax's shoes. Another man was in his thirties and seemed to be a conservative accountant. One was a father which had me the most worried, and the last one was a retired gentleman. I had no idea which way he'd go.
The first witness for the State, Detective Shaw, was the officer that initially interviewed the bitch when she went to file the report late the next day…plenty of time to manufacture the bruises on her neck. I didn't have many questions for him, since he was only reporting what she told him.
Next up, we finally got to hear from the alleged victim. I hate to admit that she's really pretty, wearing a white suit with her dark hair swept back in a chignon like mine. The prosecutor went through his many questions with her on his direct while I took notes, preparing for what to hit her with on my cross-examination. After a quick recess it was my turn to question her.
"Give her hell," Jax whispers against my ear, making me smile.
Judge Bray comes back in and calls court back to order, then the bitch went back up to the witness stand.
"Ms. Davenport, your witness," the judge says to me. Getting to my feet I start toward the lying whore with a stack of our exhibits.
"Ms. Loftis, I'd like to ask you to identify what has been marked as Defense Exhibit One. Your Honor, may I approach the witness?" I remember to ask, making me feel like I'm in a game of Mother May I.
"Yes, you may," Judge Bray repli
es.
I proceed to the witness box and hand her the first document. "Please identify that document for the jurors."
"Um, it looks like a phone bill," she says. Her amber eyes slightly narrow at me, and her lips are pursed tightly together like she's just waiting for me to give her a hard time.
"So it's a record of phone calls?"
"Yes."
"This is Mr. Malone's phone record for the night of May twenty-fourth. Do you recognize your phone number in the call log?"
"Yes," she answers after a second.
"Tell the jurors about those entries that contain your phone number."
"The first one was a missed call at nine-forty-three p.m. and the second was an outgoing call at eleven oh-one p.m. that lasted ninety-eight seconds."
"So based on your recollection and this document, is it correct to say that you initially called Mr. Malone and that he was simply returning your call?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"And do you remember leaving Mr. Malone a voicemail?"
"Yes."
"Your honor I'd like to play Defense Exhibit Two, an audio recording, and ask the witness to identify it as her voicemail to the defendant on May twenty-fourth." I hate calling Jax a defendant.
"Any objection from the State?" the judge asks. When the prosecutor didn't object, Judge Bray lets me play the disc that contains the recording over the courtroom sound system.
"Hey, sexy, it's Christina. I just saw you on TV at your brother's fight, so I know you're in town. Give me a call if you want a replay of last time."
"Was that your voice Ms. Loftis?" I ask when the recording of her voice stops.
"Yes."
"And when you said 'a replay of last time' you were offering to let Mr. Malone have sex with you?"
"I just meant that I wanted to hang out with him while he was in town again."
Righhht.
"And what did happen when he was in town previously?"
"We started talking after one of his fights and he asked if I wanted to go back to his room-"
"He asked you, or did you ask him if you could go back to his room with him?" I interrupt to set her straight.
"Oh, um, I'm not sure."