Deception

by Ordonez, April Isabelle

  "Thank you for everything.”

  "I wouldn't have it any other way.”

  My mom coughs from the other room, and Travis tenses up in my arms. "How about you go relax with my mom for a bit. I can finish up in here."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, go. Plus, this kitchen is too hot with you in it," I say, winking.

  He grins. "I think that's because you’re in that dress," he says, leaning in for another kiss.

  I coax him out of the kitchen. He heads in to visit with my mom, bringing her a glass of water. I absorb myself in cooking, and then wash the dishes once everything is done.

  After making my way to the room to see what they would like to eat for dinner, I stand at the door and I'm stopped dead in my tracks. My mom is lying in her bed, and Travis is sitting in the chair, reading the book to her. My mom's hand is holding his arm and her eyes are closed. She looks content. I think I just fell in love with him all over again.

  I don't think he can see me from where he's sitting so I remain there, looking in and listening to him as he reads. Resting my head against the door jamb, I wonder what I did to deserve him back in my life. He’s so miraculous inside and out. I stare at him while he simply takes my breath away.

  He glances up from the book, and smirks, but doesn't stop reading. He’s caught me staring at him, but I don't care because I can't look away while my heart worships him. He reaches the end of a chapter and puts the book down, looking at my mom who has fallen asleep. He gazes at her with so much admiration, while he reaches over and squeezes her hand. Looking up at me, he smiles. "How long were you going to stand there?"

  "I could stand here looking at you all day." He extends his hand, and I walk over to him. "I'm convinced that you don't realize how wonderful you are.”

  Shaking his head, he sets the book on the bedside table. Standing up, he leans in. "You have to stop looking at me like that. You don't realize what that does to me," he whispers in my ear. It sends a chill down my body.

  Taking my hand, he leads me out of the room and into the kitchen. Pressing me up against the wall, he kisses me with so much intensity. He runs his hand down my back, to my waist, and pulls me in closer. Slipping his hand down to my hip, he runs it along my thigh, pulling my dress up slightly. I can feel his desire build up. His touch captivates me. He pulls his mouth from mine, kissing my jaw and then my neck. While he kisses my collarbone and the part of my chest that's exposed from my dress, I run my fingers along the muscles of his back. I lose myself in the moment. Returning his mouth to mine, he explores my mouth with his tongue. We continue to lose ourselves in each other for a few more minutes.

  "This is what you do to me," he whispers, trailing kisses from my mouth to my ear. He looks at me, smiling, and then inhales deeply. "I think you need to go put those sweats on. I'm not sure I can handle this dress on you much longer." I laugh.

  My mom coughs from the other room and we both tense, concern immediately rushing through me. This cough sounds different than the ones she's had the past couple days.

  We hurry to the room while my mom continues to cough and gasp for breath. Travis rushes to her and rubs her back, while I reach for a towel on the bedside table. I hand it to her and she coughs into it. When I see that she's coughed up blood, I look at Travis, worried. "It's okay, Mom. Let it out," Travis says calmly, while he rubs her back.

  After her coughing subsides, I hand her a glass of water. She lies back on the bed in exhaustion. She reassures us that she's feeling better. But I don't want to leave her alone so I sit on the chair next to her and hold her hand, while she drifts back to sleep. I look at Travis, speechless. This is what the doctor was talking about when he said she may need assistance if she starts coughing. I feel like she's getting worse by the day. It's all happening too quickly.

  Travis walks over to me and squats down next to the chair "Are you okay?" he asks, rubbing my arm.

  "Yeah, I am now. That was so bad."

  "Can I make you some dinner?"

  "Sure," I say, nodding.

  He kisses me on the cheek, and then heads into the kitchen. I look over at my mom, who’s sleeping peacefully again. I'm not ready to let her go. And I don't know how I'm going to get through life without her.

  Ten minutes later, Travis comes in holding two plates. After handing me one, he pulls a chair over next to me. He's made spaghetti and meatballs and it tastes divine. "It's a good thing you didn't pursue engineering," I say, teasing. "You are quite the chef."

  "I've learned a lot over the years," he says, raising an eyebrow.

  Drew walks in. "How is she doing?"

  "Well, she's been sleeping most of the time you were gone. But she had a coughing spell and it produced blood this time," I say, worried.

  "Oh.”

  My mom wakes up from her nap, and Travis offers to get them both a plate of food. The rest seems to have helped her regain her energy from her busy morning, and the color in her face has returned―for the time being anyway.

  When Travis returns from the kitchen, he glances at the time and announces that he has to leave to go pick up Amanda from her friend's house. I frown. Time with him never seems to be long enough. Going over to my mom's bedside, he hugs her. "Thank you for everything you've done today. I love you so much, sweetie," she says, squeezing his hand.

  "I love you, Mom. I plan to stop by tomorrow. Have a good night's rest."

  He taps Drew on the shoulder. "Take it easy. I'll catch up with you later. Call me if you should need anything." Drew stands and hugs him, and it makes me happy to see the two of them getting along so nicely. They got along really well when we were kids. They would always go fishing, and even to parties,while Travis and I were together. Drew never really created that bond with Rich—they never seemed to be on the same page. This is refreshing.

  "I'll see you out," I say, taking Travis' hand and walking out of the room. I rest my head on his shoulder when we reach the front door, not wanting to let go of him. "I wish you didn't have to go," I say, pouting.

  He sighs. "I know. I have to go into work tonight after I pick her up too. We’re hosting a wedding tomorrow, and they want to decorate tonight. You could come with me."

  "I really need to get a few things from my house. And I want to stay a bit with my mom after the afternoon she's had."

  "It’s okay, I understand."

  "Thank you for everything today. You've made my mom so happy. I can't explain to you what that means to me," I say, stretching up on my toes and kissing him.

  "You mean so much to me, Sweets. And your mom means a lot to me as well. I know that seeing her this way is difficult, but we'll get through it together." He shakes his head and looks me in the eyes with so much passion. "I adore you so much."

  I tighten my arms around him. "I…I adore you too," I say, trying to choose my words wisely. I really want to tell him that I love him, but I'm scared that it may be too soon. It may even push him away, so I decide to keep that bit of information to myself for now. But, boy do I love this guy.

  He plants a soft kiss on my lips and then pulls away, scanning his eyes down my body. He shakes his head. "Hmm, that dress," he says, grinning. "I really have to go. That dress is dangerous," he adds, opening the front door.

  I smile. "I'll make a note of that."

  Once he leaves, I go in to see my mom. "It's nice having him around again," Drew says.

  "Yeah. I've been enjoying it a lot."

  "He's such a sweet guy," my mom remarks endearingly.

  "I'm happy for you, Amy," Drew adds.

  "Thanks."

  I tell them that I’m going to get some more things from my house, and that I'll be back shortly. The moment I get into my car, my phone dings. It's a text from Travis: I've figured out that it's not so much the dress that's dangerous, but it's those incredible legs.

  I grin. I love that boy.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tuesday

  April 30, 2013

  1:42 p.m.


  I tap Matthew on the shoulder. "You did great today. You nailed that opening statement. I couldn't have done a better job even if I tried. You’ve got this."

  "Thanks, Amy. I hope you're right."

  "You know my record of predictions. Trust me, you got this one. I'm proud of you," I say, hugging him.

  For the past seven years I've predicted how the trial will go after the first day in court, and I've only been wrong twice. This case is Matthew's first big one as lead council. I've mentored him for the past three years. He's even become like my little brother in some ways. I was hesitant to put him as lead council, but after what I witnessed I'm certain that I made the right choice.

  "I learn from the best," he says, shooting me a grin.

  We pack up and meander out of the courtroom. "Attorney Silver," a woman calls out. I stop and scan the hallway to find a tall, blonde woman rushing in my direction. She looks like a reporter.

  "Walk faster and don't look in her direction. Just walk toward the door," I advise Matthew.

  "Attorney Silver," the woman calls again. "Excuse me, Amy, can I have a moment of your time?" I don't look in her direction but her voice gets closer. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my arm.

  "Sorry, we don't do interviews," I say, continuing to make my way to the doors, without looking at her.

  "No, I'm not a reporter. I'm from the School of Law at the University of San Francisco, and I would like a moment of your time." USF? What would they want with me? I stop and turn to her. Matthew waits for me.

  "What can I help you with?"

  "Hi, I'm Lisa Brighton and I'm the head of the faculty in the School of Law at the University. I'd love to have a moment to talk to you about a potential teaching position."

  "Sorry, I don't teach."

  "I know you don't have experience teaching in the classroom. But we've been following your cases closely with our students, and the faculty and I all agree that you’d be a great addition to our team. We'd like the opportunity to sit down and speak with you about it."

  "Well, I’ve never thought about teaching. If you want to leave me your card, I could call you at some point if it's something I think I'd be interested in."

  "That would be wonderful," she says, reaching into her pocket and handing me her business card. "We have a professor that teaches criminal law who’s retiring next month, so please do call. I think we could offer you something reasonable."

  "Thank you," I say, shaking her hand before turning and walking out.

  "Teaching, huh?" Matthew says, intrigued.

  "Yeah. Not sure why they think I'd be good at teaching," I say, chuckling.

  "It's evident you know what you're talking about. And they'd be lucky to have such a successful lawyer on their faculty. I don't blame them for wanting you."

  "Or, maybe it's as the saying goes, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach’?"

  Matthew slaps me on the arm. "You know better than that."

  "Ouch," I say, pushing him.

  We arrive back at the firm, and Matthew gets the rock star treatment. The other attorneys already caught word about his great day in court. Going over to Julie, I see a huge bouquet of pink roses sitting on her desk. "Is it your anniversary?"

  "Hi, Amy. No, those aren't my flowers. Those were delivered for you. And they came with this." She hands me a large manila envelope. "We’re dying to find out who they’re from.”

  A card accompanies the flowers, so I open it to read: Thank you, and it's signed, From Rich

  "You can keep them. They look great on your desk," I answer back, laying the card down and strolling to my office.

  "What? Why? Who are they from?"

  "Rich," I shoot over my shoulder.

  "Oh no. I don't want them," she says, exasperated.

  Sitting down, I’m curious as to what kind of surprise he's presented me with in the envelope—possibly another ridiculous contract? Or maybe it's an admittance of how big of a douche bag he is. I open it and take out a folded piece of paper that reads:

  Amy,

  I can't express to you how grateful I am that you allowed me to keep my firm. This is proof that I seriously don't deserve you.

  Thank you,

  Rich

  I notice something else in the envelope. Reaching in, I take out a smaller envelope with, Ames, written on the top, and hearts drawn all over it. It's my mom's letter that she gave to me on my birthday. The envelope has been opened and resealed with tape. I shake my head. Opening it up, I read the letter on the top:

  My sweet Ames,

  I recently came across some information that I think you should be made aware of. Before you read the attached, please know that I love you so much and that’s the reason that I've decided to tell you. After you read this, please call me so that we can talk. I have more details that I think will help to explain.

  You will always be my sunshine,

  Mom

  I force a smile. I'm going to miss her. Flipping to the next page, I see it's a letter from my dad to Rich, on the law firm's letterhead. I scan through it and notice that it's the same letter that I've already read. But the second page is the official contract that Rich agreed to, something I haven’t seen yet:

  Official Contract

  Mr. Richard Driscoll, known as "First Party," agrees to enter into this joint contract with Warren Silver Law Associates in San Francisco California and Reynard Enterprises in Cambridge, England, known as "Second Party" on June 10, 2011.

  Invalidity or unenforceability of one or more provisions of this agreement shall not affect any other provision of this agreement. This agreement is subject to the laws and regulations of the state of California.

  This agreement is based on the following provisions:

  Mr. Richard Driscoll agrees to spend the sum of $5 Million Dollars (to be wired) over the next five years in gifts and vacations to be presented to Amy Silver on her birthday and other occasions at his reasonable discretion, to include but not be limited to the following. In return Reynard Enterprises agrees to continue business connections with Mr. Richard Driscoll.

  I glance down the page, starting to feel nauseated. There are well over thirty―or maybe even fifty―bullet points. I don't even want to put myself through the displeasure of reading it. Did my dad really do this? And Rich signed this? What the hell. This is sickening, and downright unheard of.

  Grabbing the contract, I scurry over to the shredder. I watch it as it turns into tiny strands of paper, making this ridiculous agreement now a distant memory. It's evident that Rich is a jerk, but what man does this to his daughter? I will never be able to see it in a positive way like my mom has tried to convince me.

  I saunter back to my desk and fish into my purse for my phone, wanting to text Travis to see how his day is going. Reaching into my bag, I accidentally grab the business card from Lisa Brighton, Esq. Staring at it, I wonder what they have to offer and if I even want to teach. It's not something I've ever thought about. Flipping the card through my fingers, I lean back in the chair.

  After a few minutes, I break myself from thought and decide to text my sister to see how my mom is doing instead.

  Me: How's mom?

  Marla: She's resting. She was able to eat some soup for lunch and has been able to hold it down so far.

  Me: Good. I should be home in an hour or so. Do you need me to pick anything up on the way?

  Marla: No. We're good. Maybe coffee would be nice though.

  Me: Sure thing.

  I text my handsome boyfriend to see what he's doing.

  Me: Hey there, sexy!

  My handsome boyfriend: Hey there, beautiful! I was just thinking about you. Of course, had you written me any other time, I would have been doing the very same thing. ☺ How was court?

  Me: You know just what to say to a girl. ☺ Court was really good. Matthew hit it right out of the park.

  My handsome boyfriend: When are you coming home?

  Me: Home? Do you mean my mom's house? I should be le
aving work in an hour or so. Can you come by today?

  My handsome boyfriend: I'm already here.

  Wait, he's at my mom’s?

  Me: What are you doing there?

  My handsome boyfriend: Just visiting, keeping her company.

  Me: You’re by far the sweetest man to ever walk this planet. What have I done to deserve you?

  My handsome―and incredibly sweet―boyfriend: You’re the one that told me this had nothing to do with luck, it is all fate. You and I were always meant to be, baby. Now get your incredibly sexy ass over here so I can smother you with kisses.

  Me (giddy): Since you put it that way, I’m leaving right now!

  I turn off my computer. While reaching for my bag, the business card sitting on my desk grabs my attention. A part of me is curious to see what they have to offer. I never thought about teaching, but who knows, it might be what I need to spike my motivation again. Taking hold of my phone, I dial the number.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Friday

  May 3, 2013

  2:41 p.m.

  I've spent the last few days engrossed in the case. And today was especially difficult since our client took the stand. Listening to her speak about the night that changed her life forever―how the boy, who sat at the table beside us, had not only taken her virginity unwillingly, but had robbed her of being able to trust any other guy again―sent uncomfortable chills right down the center of my back. I rarely let cases get to me, but when we’re representing a fifteen-year-old who has to recount details of being viciously raped, my body has a mind of its own. It's hard to separate yourself from it. And then I look over at the sixteen-year-old boy who did it to her—who has been left partially brain dead from her fight back with a tire iron—and it makes me want to cry for them all. I know I shouldn't want to cry for a boy who raped a girl―he got what he deserved―but it doesn't make me want to cry any less. Either practicing law is getting the best of me, or something inside of me is changing because I’m becoming more and more troubled by my clients' stories. I usedto disconnect myself from them—especially in court. Maybe it's that I'm sitting second chair in this case and I'm able to listen more intently to the testimony. I don't know. But it feels different today. It feels sad.