Chapter Twenty-nine
“In local sports news, the Western University softball team have had their struggles lately, putting their postseason hopes in jeopardy. Three weeks ago, they were swept by the Pulaski Tech Grizzlies, right after the indefinite suspension of their catcher, Kelly Mitchell. When asked if Mitchell’s absence impacted the outcome, Coach Dyer stated that her team took an emotional hit, but they would bounce back.
That resilience proved well-timed with series wins against both Southern Arkansas and East Central the following weekends.
As it stands, the Hornets have six games remaining in the regular season and need to win five to have a shot at the postseason.
In national news, the FBI is digging deep into the background of Gary Newman, former head coach of Idaho—”
Warm weather and sunny skies greeted her when she exited her truck.
Hopefully, that was a good omen for how the hearing would go.
She smoothed her hand down her chest and pressed out any loose wrinkles.
She’d gone all out today and donned a formfitting black and gray patterned vest over a black oxford button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
She’d paired it with light gray fitted jeans and a pair of black high-tops.
She hoped her effort made a good impression on the committee.
When she entered the complex, a clump of people stood off to the side.
She squinted and recognized a few faces: the athletic director, the university president, and of course, Frank Bristol.
He stood next to a sharply dressed woman with blond hair in a pixie style cut and dark-framed glasses.
Her crisp white blouse was paired with a knee-length black skirt that matched her shiny black briefcase.
The blonde glanced at Razor, briefly, before turning her attention back to her phone.
Razor wasn’t sure what to expect a lawyer hired by Frank Bristol to look like.
For some reason, the cartoon image of Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle came to mind.
This woman looked fierce, smart, and all business.
In fact, Razor was certain she’d seen her commercials on television a few times. Frank Bristol came to win.
Razor looked around, but she didn’t see any familiar faces. Even Ashton was absent. And she’d said she’d meet Razor there.
She was alone. Again.
Suddenly, her vision blurred. Her heart pounded.
She couldn’t breathe. She braced herself against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut.
How could this be happening again? She blindly reached for her left wrist, but her hand tangled with fingers instead.
Her eyes shot open. Ashton’s worried gaze held hers, her grip tightening.
“You’re okay. I’m here.”
Razor’s breathing returned to normal. “I thought I was alone again.”
Ashton held out a cup of water, which Razor gulped.
“Sorry. I got held up, but I’m here now.”
She smiled and moved her thumb across Razor’s knuckles in a soothing gesture. Only then did Razor notice the knee-length green dress and matching heels, and the wisps of blond hair playing around her face.
“Come straight from class?”
Ashton smirked. “Something like that.”
She turned and smiled wider. Razor followed her gaze, surprised to see Sabrina walking up with someone she didn’t recognize.
“What are you doing here? And who is this?”
Sabrina just smiled and held up her hands.
“This is my cousin, Angela, Lola’s older sister.
She’s about to graduate law school and start a job with the Arkansas Women’s Law Center.
When we heard Bristol was bringing an actual lawyer, I immediately asked Angela if she could recommend someone who’d take this on last minute. She volunteered.”
Angela held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Mitchell. I’m not licensed yet, but I’ve been representing clients through my school’s women’s law clinic all year, and we’ve taken your case. So you have an actual lawyer, too.”
“Please, call me Razor. And that’s amazing of you.”
She looked closer and finally saw the family resemblance. Silky black hair, dark brown eyes, same nose and mouth. Razor hoped Angela had the same fire in a courtroom Sabrina had on the field.
“I’ve gotten together with the coaches and players and have all the physical evidence collected,” Angela stated. “I just want to go over a few things before we head inside.”
She took a seat and opened her briefcase while Razor sat next to her. Ashton put a reassuring hand on Razor’s shoulder as Angela launched into their game plan.
“After we get all the preliminaries out of the way, I’ll present your defense, at which time you’ll recount the events that happened that day, and we’ll ask Mr. Storm to recount any pertinent information he may have.”
“Oh, he has pertinent information all right,” Razor said.
“I just talked to Summer a few minutes ago. They were pulling up to her dad’s farm,” Ashton said.
“I wish he’d be here before we started, but I’ve been assured by Mr. Davis”—the athletic director—“that as long as Mr. Storm shows up before they announce their ruling, he can testify,” Angela said.
“Pray he gets here in time, then,” Razor replied.
“Already on it.” Sabrina crossed herself twice, and everyone laughed.
“Once we’ve made our case,” Angela continued, “Mr. Bristol will have the chance to make his. At the rebuttal I’ll present all the evidence we’ve collected. Once Mr. Bristol is done, the committee will convene to make their final ruling.”
Razor took two deep breaths. Angela’s explanation made it sound like the easiest thing in the world and they’d be done by lunch. In reality, it was going to be the hardest thing Razor had ever done.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the hearing will now begin,” Matt Davis announced above the noise. “Would all committee members, involved parties, and their legal advisors please enter the room.”
Razor looked to Ashton for reassurance.
“You’ve got this,” she whispered.
Angela gave a slight nod, and they filed in with the committee, Frank Bristol, and his lawyer.
The room was cramped, and everyone jockeyed for a position around the table.
Razor and Angela found two seats across from Frank and his lawyer.
The other committee members took their places where they could.
The athletic director walked to the front of the table and took the last seat in the center.
With deadly precision, he banged the gavel.
“Okay, let’s get started.”
* * *
Ashton paced up and down the hall before looking at her phone again. Summer’s last text announced their arrival and that she’d let Ashton know when they were on the road. That had been twenty minutes ago, and Ashton was starting to worry.
She’d been surprised Razor hadn’t mentioned Bill Storm as a witness when the suspension came down.
Then again, it was classic Razor. She would rather take the brunt of any accusation than put people she cared about in harm’s way.
An endearing and admirable quality, yet it’d also caused years of unnecessary pain to a person who deserved happiness.
Ashton swore, then and there, if Razor came out with the win, she’d do everything in her power to make sure Razor would never feel that kind of hurt again.
She deserved that much after all her sacrifice.
As she started her third lap across the lobby, Courtney rushed in.
“Anything new?”
“Summer’s last text was twenty minutes ago.”
Courtney eyed the door with the guard standing post. “How long have they been in there?”
“About the same amount of time, give or take.”
“I didn’t think it would take so long.”
“According to Angela, they have to do the introductory statements, list the allegations, why the complaint was filed, go over all the rules about falsifying claims and telling the truth, blah, blah, blah. That alone takes thirty minutes, I would think. Then they start getting into the testimonies and accounts of the incident.”
Courtney sighed. “Damn. I don’t know which is worse, being in there or being out here.”
“Out here, definitely.” Ashton noted the time and looked at her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be setting up for practice?”
“This is more important than practice.” The fierce protection in Courtney’s voice nearly brought Ashton to tears.
“I’m sure the girls will appreciate it. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do except wait.”
“And hope Bill Storm gets here in time.”
“That, too.”
* * *
“Ms. Mitchell, can you describe in your own words what happened on the day of the incident in question?”
The athletic director’s voice had a soothing quality that signaled patience and understanding.
Matt Davis was fair and genuine, and Razor really liked the man, even though she wished she wasn’t sitting in front of him at the moment.
She glanced at Frank, sporting the same sleazy smile he had the day their paths crossed.
She cleared her throat and measured her words carefully.
“I was positioned behind home plate during the game. In the seventh inning, I felt my chest guard go taut. I tried to shake it off, but instead it only grew tighter. That’s when I realized Mr. Bristol was interfering with it.
” She paused and took a breath. “I noticed the runner take off from first. I immediately popped up, and when I cocked my arm back I felt my elbow hit something. I wasn’t sure what it was but it didn’t impede my throw, and I continued with the play.
After the out was recorded, I turned around and saw Mr. Bristol’s bloody nose. ”
Frank looked like he was about to argue, but his lawyer calmly grasped his hand to keep him quiet.
“Thank you, Ms. Mitchell.” The athletic director turned and addressed Frank’s lawyer. “Ms. Hill, do you have any questions?”
“Yes, Mr. Davis, I do.”
Ms. Hill opened her leather portfolio. She flipped through a series of pages on her notepad, adjusted her glasses, then peered at Razor.