Counsel (Counsel #1)

by Shenda Paul

"Is this your new girlfriend, Adam? What about Lisa Delaney?" a male reporter yells out, causing Cait to giggle. I glance down to see her looking up at me mischievously. I smile back, not bothering to correct the assumption.

  As we near the steps, the pack becomes distracted. "Adam, is it true that you and Senator Wade are friends?" another reporter asks as he too spies the approaching group. I ignore the question; grateful to see half of those who’d surrounded us converge on Justin, Tom and Cynthia. Josh very wisely steers Mrs. Wade away. I glance up to measure the distance to the safety of the courthouse steps and notice a trio watching the unfolding drama.

  Angelique Bain looks pained as she watches Justin and Cynthia. When she turns away, her eyes meet mine, and even from this distance, I detect her deep blush. Her female companion worriedly asks whether she's all right. She nods, her gaze slowly returning to Justin. The man’s body turns rigid as he follows her line of sight, his curious expression changing to one of unadulterated fury. "Fucking prick," I see him curse before wrapping a protective arm around her. The woman takes hold of Angelique’s hand, and the three turn to enter the courthouse.

  By the time we reach our courtroom, they're seated on a bench outside where they obviously intend to wait until she's called. Her companions flank her like sentries; the female holds her hand, while the man glowers at anyone who looks their way. Right now, his scowl is directed squarely at me.

  She looks nervous and unhappy, but still so beautiful. Dressed in a dark blue skirt and jacket, and black stilettos that make her lovely legs drool-worthy, her lips are a glossy, natural pink today, and her long hair, tied low at her neck. What I notice most, though, are those eyes that have haunted my dreams. They appear larger than usual in her pale face, and they look sad, and hurt, and so damned vulnerable.

  I look up at the sound of footsteps to see Justin’s group approach. It’s apparent the moment he sees her. His eyes widen, and he shakes off Cynthia’s hand. She looks up in protest, eyes narrowing when she spots who’s drawn his attention. "Whore!" she clearly mouths. Angelique bows her head to stare at her hand clasped in that of her friend. It's trembling, I can tell, and my chest tightens in response to her distress. The man is about to jump up, but she shakes her head at him. He glares menacingly at Justin when he steps forward. Tom moves to block his path. "You can't talk to her," he says tersely.

  Cait and Jodi appear as spellbound by the spectacle as I am before I finally gather my wits about me to move; witnessing her humiliation and distress leaves me feeling at odds and angry, for some reason. For a moment, I hate the part I’ve played in her being here. As if sensing my thoughts, Jodi speaks. "It's not too late to offer her the chance to change her mind."

  She’s right; I could easily notify the clerk of a change in witness status. After a moment’s consideration, I nod. "You do it; I’ll only make matters worse. I'll see you inside." I watch as she approaches the seated trio but don't wait to see the outcome. Cupping Cait’s elbow, I lead her away.

  .

  .

  "My name is Angelique Bain, and I'm a dance teacher," she says, her husky voice soft and nervous.

  She refused our offer. Jodi expressed disappointment and, I think it would be fair to say, sadness. I, on the other hand, felt nothing but frustration when told of her decision.

  "Why, why would she want to protect a man who so obviously used her?" Jodi whispered agitatedly on returning from her failed mission. "The guy, Samuel, and her friend Mandi both tried to reason with her, and I think Samuel felt like shaking her." Samuel… I remember her saying his name at that lunch. Well, I empathize with his feelings.

  She's on the stand now, having been declared a hostile witness, sworn in and clearly apprehensive.

  "You say you teach dance, Ms. Bain?" I ask, banishing all residual feelings of sympathy or regret. She had a choice, I remind myself.

  "That's right," she replies.

  "I thought you worked as a dancer at Liaison, Ms. Bain?" Her cheeks turn pink at my immediate attack.

  "I once danced for a living, but I've been teaching ballet for some years."

  "Ballet? I thought your job entailed dancing of a more sexual nature?"

  "Yes, I teach ballet, and I have never performed an overtly sexual dance," she snaps, showing a glimpse of the feistiness of our early encounters.

  "So you deny being employed to dance at a club where, by all accounts, the dancers performed sexual routines for the pleasure of its male clientele?"

  "I don't deny having danced at Liaison, what I said …"

  "Yes or no, Ms. Bain. Do you deny that you were employed to dance at Liaison?"

  "No." Her eyes flash with annoyance.

  "How often did you perform at the club?"

  "I haven't danced there in over a year."

  "So you haven't been an employee of Liaison for over a year?"

  She flushes deeply. "I was employed by Liaison until some months ago."

  "You mean until it was forcibly closed down for operating as a brothel?"

  "You know why it closed down."

  "The witness will answer the question." Judge Bolton intervenes.

  "Yes, I was employed by the club until it closed down," she concedes, looking and sounding chastened.

  "You said you haven’t danced there in over a year. What were you employed to do in that time?"

  She looks around nervously. I expected her to be looking at Justin, but she's found her friends. The woman nods encouragingly. The man, Samuel, glares at me before he too gives her a tiny nod.

  "Do you need me to repeat the question, Ms. Bain?" I press.

  "No," she says. "I was employed as a companion to Senator Wade."

  "A companion? What kind of companion? Did you accompany him to social events, on visits to his constituents, perhaps?"

  "Objection, Your Honor! Badgering," Tom interjects.

  "Your Honor, I've asked a legitimate question which, given the witness' adverse status, is allowed."

  "Overruled."

  "Ms. Bain, what kind of companionship were you paid to provide the defendant?" I repeat.

  She bites her bottom lip nervously. I’m about to press for a response when she finally speaks. "I was paid to sleep with him, but …"

  "You were paid to have sex with the defendant?"

  "Yes," she whispers.

  "Ms. Bain, you need to speak loud enough to be heard," Judge Bolton directs before I’m forced to ask her to repeat herself.

  She takes a shaky breath. "Yes," she says more audibly, her voice trembling.

  "You had a contract stipulating the conditions of your employment, is that correct?" I ask.

  "I did," she says.

  "Would you tell the court what those conditions were, please?"

  "Um… " She clears her throat nervously. "I was to be available to Senator Wade whenever he desired. I was not to call or try to see him, but wait for him to contact me."

  "Did you adhere to those conditions?"

  "Pretty much, yes."

  "Pretty much? What exactly does that mean, Ms. Bain?"

  "Well, Justin… I mean Senator Wade, didn't mind if I contacted him on occasion; if I needed to."

  "Did you call him at his home, his office, on his cell phone? Were you allowed to email him? Did he set any limits on where and when you could contact him?"

  "Objection, compound question," Tom interjects. He and I both know that if I deem them important enough, I’ll simply ask them in turn. His aim is to have me abandon my line of questioning, or failing that, interrupt my flow to allow her time to compose herself. Judge Bolton rules in his favor.

  "Did you ever call the defendant’s office?"

  "I only ever called him on a cell phone he provided for the purpose."

  "How much were you paid for services rendered to the defendant?" I ask, causing her to blush deeply.

  "Five thousand dollar
s a month," she answers, looking down at her hands.

  "You were paid five thousand dollars to be at the defendant's sexual beck and call?"

  "Ms. Bain?" I prompt when she hesitates. She looks up, visibly upset.

  "Ms. Bain?" I repeat.

  "Yes! Are you happy now?" she snaps, then instantly turns to Judge Bolton. "I apologize, Your Honor," she says.

  "I realize this is painful for you, but you have to answer," he says more kindly than I’d ever heard him speak.

  "Were you aware of the contract the defendant entered into to secure your services?" I ask, signaling for the court officer to hand her a copy of the document.

  Head bowed, she stares at it for long moments. "Ms. Bain, were you aware of the existence of the contract you’re holding?"

  When she looks up, her eyes glisten with tears. "No," she replies hoarsely.

  "You were an escort before being appointed to exclusively service the defendant, were you not?" She looks up at her friends nervously, and I wonder if she's told them the whole truth.

  "Do you need me to repeat the question?"

  "Yes, I escorted before," she says, a note of defeat in her voice.

  "Did you and the defendant engage in sex before you were appointed to service him exclusively."

  "Yes," she says softly, her face suffused with color. Then, without prompting and with an apologetic glance at Judge Bolton, she repeats it loud enough for the court to hear.

  "Before or after you escorted anyone else?"

  "Does it really matter?" she pleads with Judge Bolton.

  "Answer the question, Ms. Bain," he tells her firmly.

  "J… Senator Wade was the first person I escorted," she confesses.

  "How did he react when you escorted other men?"

  "He…he didn't like it."

  "Did he say that?"

  "His demeanor let me know."

  "Did the defendant ever discuss approaching Mr. Cordi to gain your exclusive services with you?"

  "No," she says, her voice unsteady once more.

  "Were you aware of the defendant’s ownership of Liaison and other nightclubs?"

  "No, I wasn’t," she says more confidently.

  "What if I told you the defendant entered into a business partnership with Joseph Cordi in exchange for your sexual exclusivity? What if I said his reward was not only the exclusive rights to your body but that he, in fact, also profited financially from your sexual exploitation and that of every woman employed in Joseph Cordi’s prostitution network?"

  "Objection, Your Honor. Compound question, narrative, to name but a few of counsel’s transgressions," Tom calls out indignantly.

  "Sustained. Mr. Thorne is there a question in there somewhere?" Judge Bolton asks testily. I change tack, satisfied that I’ve achieved my goal.

  "Did you and the defendant ever discuss his private or work life?"

  "Sometimes."

  "So, your relationship was such that you touched on personal matters."

  "I came to regard the senator as a friend."

  "Your friends pay you for sex?"

  "Of course not," she protests.

  "So you deny being a prostitute? You deny that the defendant paid you for sex?"

  "I…I… tried not to think of myself as a prostitute…"

  "Ms. Bain," I cut across her stammering. "Do you deny that the defendant paid you for sex, do you deny that he knew exactly what to expect of you as an escort at Liaison?"

  "Senator Wade has never paid me."

  "You must have known, especially given your employment contract, that any man you spent private time with at Liaison would have to pay for your company, your sexual company; is that not correct?"

  "Yes," she concedes, looking shamefaced.

  "And do you acknowledge that Senator Wade knew of the prostitution business conducted at Liaison before to entering into the agreement for your exclusivity?"

  "I do."

  "Do you also acknowledge that you had ongoing sexual trysts with the defendant in exchange for money? Do you admit that even before entering into the agreement with Joseph Cordi, the defendant paid to have sex with you? Do you, in fact, acknowledge that he was the very first person you had sex with for money?"

  She swipes at her tears, no doubt feeling humiliated in the presence of her friends and now the public. I have to admire her courage, though, as she lifts her chin.

  "I do," she says.

  "The Commonwealth rests, Your Honor." I see no point in prolonging her ordeal. I have the unequivocal confirmation I wanted that Justin had known about the prostitution at Liaison before signing the contract to acquire equity in Fidelity, and that his reason for doing so had been to secure her exclusive sexual services.

  "Does Defense wish to cross-examine?" Judge Bolton asks.

  There’s no immediate response. I turn to see Justin whispering agitatedly to Tom while his co-counsel listens with a look of concern.

  "Counsel?" Judge Bolton prompts tersely.

  "I apologize, Your Honor. With the court’s permission, I need a few moments to confer with my client." Tom turns to Justin when granted permission. A quiet and obviously heated discussion ensues. Justin shakes his head angrily. "Leave her alone; she doesn't deserve this shit," he tells Tom. I can't see Tom’s reply, but Justin responds angrily. "Just fucking do as I say, or I'll fire your ass right now." He stares Tom down.

  "No questions, Your Honor," Tom finally announces.

  I watch her leave, eyes glistening and head held high. The woman remains a mystery to me. All I know is that she confounds me, and for the first time since first appearing in a courtroom, I can, with all honesty, say that I've found no joy in breaking down a witness.

  "Court is adjourned. We'll reconvene at ten tomorrow morning," Judge Bolton announces, thankfully, ending the day’s ordeal.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "What is it, Adam?" Cait demands, watching me closely.

  I know from experience that she won't give up until I tell her something. The thing is, I’m not too sure what to say. I'm still trying to sort it out in my own mind. When we left court, she suggested that we have dinner. I declined, knowing her intention, but she dug her heels in.

  "Dinner will be ready when you get home. You can shower and relax before we eat," she insisted. I know my sister well enough to know that by eat she meant talk.

  "I have a lot of work to do, and I really won't be good company. Why don't I take you and Matt out over the weekend?" I countered.

  "Matt won't be joining us. Be home by eight, big brother," she replied, and I wished, for a fleeting moment, that I hadn’t given her a key to my apartment. So here we are now; Cait looking at me expectantly, either oblivious or not caring about the internal battle I’m waging.

  "Adam!" she exclaims impatiently.

  "I’m conflicted," I finally say.

  "About the case? Justin’s an adult; he knew what he was doing…well, even if he didn't know everything, he knew enough. And that deal he made for that poor woman…"

  "You think she had no choice in the matter?" I ask sharply. She scrutinizes me with narrowed eyes.

  "This is about her isn't it?"

  "It's not about her. Let's not discuss her."

  "You can't fool me, and stop fooling yourself. I noticed your reaction when you saw her on that bench. What's going on?"

  "I need a drink for this, do you want anything?" I ask, resigning myself to the interrogation to come.

  "Just water," she replies, looking on in concern as I pour myself an unusually large brandy.

  Once I start, the words seem to gush out like water from a burst dam. I tell about the first time I met Angelique. Cait laughs so much, she has to hold her stomach when I relate how she’d called me melodramatic and then given me a false name. "She has spirit and a sense of humor. I like that," she chortles.

  She smi
les knowingly as I relate my reaction at seeing Angelique in the viewing room and laughs uproariously when I describe our first encounter and my subsequent discovery of her identity as the runaway driver. Mirth turns to concern when I describe my dream featuring Eleanor and Angelique. I do not share the one about her being in my bed; there’s no way I'm going to let anyone, even Cait, know just how deeply she affects me.

  "Oh, Adam, don't you see what's happening?"

  "Of course, I see. This case has stirred up my past. I get that!"

  "It's painful, I know, but I think it's a good thing if it helps you to finally accept that Eleanor was a victim. She had little or no support, Adam. I'd like to think that in her position, I'd have done differently, but then I'd never have to find that out, would I? I’ve always had Mom and Dad, and then you; and Matt would never abandon me like your father did Eleanor. Sorry…" She kisses my cheek apologetically. "But do you hear what I'm saying?"

  I nod. "I've accepted that Eleanor was victimized, but I'm still trying to come to terms with it all."

  "And Adam…" She touches my face to ensure she has my full attention.

  "I think your feelings for Angelique Bain go deeper than seeing Eleanor in her…" She holds up a hand to stop my interruption. "I've never seen you look at a woman the way you look at her."

  "How do I look at her?" I ask, the words unthinkingly leaving my mouth.

  "With longing," she says decisively.

  'Caitlin, I don’t…"

  Her light laugh echoes throughout the room. "Oh big brother, you may fool yourself, but you don't fool me." Her face softens as she clasps my hand. "If you're interested in her, you should explore your feelings."

  "I can't, and I won't, Cait. She's involved in this case; she's worked as a prostitute …" She cuts me off with a dismissive gesture.

  "The case ends soon, and anyone can tell she's not just a prostitute; well not by normal standards anyway. The woman on that stand today has been used and hurt. You know nothing about her other than the evidence you’ve gathered; deep down you know that. That's why you told Jodi to talk to her. Don't judge her until you know more about her, Adam.

  "Anyway, I have some news for you," she changes the subject abruptly. "I'm pregnant."