23. Savannah
Chapter 23
Savannah
“ U hm—”
I lift my head from the desk to see Clarissa standing in front of it, two coffee cups in her hands. She’s looking at me with an expression caught between uncertainty and pity.
“Yes,” I say, taking a cup to save her from having to look at me.
“Okay. I thought you could use the warmth. It’s a cold morning,” she says kindly.
Indeed.
After finding out that the person who wants me arrested and jailed for Brandon’s murder is willing to fabricate a video to add one more chink in my armor, my life has successfully fallen below rock bottom.
In the past two days, I have slept for almost four hours. And those four hours were filled with nightmares.
Or a prediction of what is to come because they featured me , the star, in handcuffs. The only reason I could tell that it was a nightmare was because Brandon, Eric, and Elaine Rogers were correctional officers assigned to me.
“It gets cold fast,” Clarissa says. “There is a problem with the machine, so the coffee isn’t that hot.”
I know she’s telling me to drink it, so I do. It turns out to be hotter than I expected and scalds my tongue, but I bite the tip to keep from yelling.
I best get used to the misfortunes of life, because where I’m headed, they will be my constant companions.
“A—any progress?” She asks carefully.
I turn to her. “Progress?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes still carry the curiosity they held before that fateful day when I was escorted to the station, but there is hesitation in them now.
“You mean about my case?” I decide to make it easy for her.
She nods.
“Well, I don’t know. Do you think I killed my ex-fiancé?” I ask sarcastically.
She shakes her head briskly.
“No. I don’t think you did, and I’ve been telling everyone that. I don’t know who is behind it, but I’m sure Mr. Stone will figure it out.”
Mr. Stone, my attorney.
The same person who decided that it was in my best interest not to know about crucial evidence against me.
My fingers curl into a tight fist as I channel my anger there. I’m still livid, even though a part of me wants to understand that he did it for my benefit, that maybe he has a plan.
“Yeah,” I respond, already tired of the conversation. Of life in general. “He will.”
Clarissa shoots me a grin. “You’ve got this. I’m glad you came into the office today.”
“Me too.”
Partly.
I came in because I needed something to keep my mind busy, and staying in a motel room, staring at my phone did not seem to help.
But a paralegal who is under investigation for murder cannot work at a prestigious firm. I found out that my workload had been shared between Clarissa and another new paralegal.
I continue with the coffee, taking it slowly. Clarissa returns to her work, leaving me alone.
When the cup empties, I toss it into the bin and return my head to the desk.
I fall asleep, waking up when I feel someone tapping my shoulder. I peep through half-open eyelids to see who, and then my head snaps up.
“Peter?”
“Hi,” he says.
I frown. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to see you. In my office. Please?”
His face looks grave, and my heart skips a beat when theories, all of them frightening, start pouring into my mind.
“Okay,” I say hastily.
Shuffling to my feet, I glance at Clarissa. Who is looking away.
A sigh leaves my lips.
“Okay. Let’s go,” he encourages me.
Quietly, I follow him out of my office and into the hallway. I ignore the stares I get, half-shielded by Peter, who tries to match my heavy footsteps.
Eventually, we get to his office.
“Please sit.”
I do.
“I have something to tell you.”
“Okay?”
“Michael will no longer be working on your case.”
My jaw drops.
“What?” I say in disbelief.
“Yes. He’s asked me to tell you that someone just as proficient will be handling it now.”
A whirlwind of emotions surges through my mind. Frustration, mingled with disbelief and a pang of betrayal, tugs at my heart. I had placed my trust in him, even when things seemed hopeless because he assured me he was going to figure out how to save me.
Even when I didn’t want to believe it, Michael kept reminding me that he was sure he would clear my name.
And the night we spent together—
All of that, and he leaves me in the dust!!
“Why?!” I ask, not knowing what else to say.
Peter sighs. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I arch an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don’t know, how is that possible?”
His shoulders rise and fall.
“I wouldn’t lie to you. He told me last night and wouldn’t give any reason. Then he sent me an email that he’d be out of the country for a while and might be unreachable during that period.”
Un-fucking-believable!
A hysterical laughter begins in my chest.
“He is going out of the country? He’ll be unavailable. What the hell?!”
“I’m sure the new attorney will—”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “I don’t want to hear the excuses. I should have known that he would leave me high and dry. I mean, he couldn’t predict that the case would turn this bad, but now he’s bailing so no one accuses him of being a shitty attorney.”
“I’ll find someone else,” I tell Peter.
I push the chair backward and get up.
“Thank you for being the emissary of the worst news I’ve gotten since I was accused of murder as if it could have gotten any worse than that!”
“Savannah, please listen—”
“You wouldn’t lie to me?” I ask, livid beyond belief. “I see. And you just expect me to believe that? The past ten years were what? You being nice to me and telling me the truth?”
He sighs. But doesn’t respond.
I know it’s because he knows whatever he says, I won’t believe it. Yet, his silence grates on my nerves and makes everything worse.
“Don’t help me out anymore. It is not your place to keep my father from reaching out to me. I’d take his harsh words over your deception,” I spit in anger.
With rage brimming and almost overflowing, I turn on my heels and storm out of the office, slamming the door behind me.
This time around, I return the looks of the people I pass with stares. I glare at them, baring my teeth and making them withdraw in shock.
When I open the door to my office, I see Alice sitting in my chair.
“Hey,” she stands up and, from nowhere, brings out a bouquet. “I came to see you. I hope I didn’t come at a bad time.”
“No,” I shake my head.
Ironically, Alice is the only person not making my blood boil at the moment.
“Do you want to…maybe get something to eat?”
“That’s a good idea,” Clarissa chimes in.
We both look at her.
I nod. “Okay.”
Alice rushes to me and takes my arm. I notice that my bag is in her other hand, with her fingers around the bouquet.
“Let’s go. I know the best place to eat.”
I leave my car at the office, and we take hers. The entire ride is silent, and she doesn’t glance my way even once, which is something I appreciate. The ride turns out to be a long one, and I eventually fall asleep.
“We're here,” she gently shakes me awake.
My eyes widen when I see that we’re at the beach.
“The beach?”
Alice nods.
“Yeah. I was lying when I said I had somewhere in mind. But while you were sleeping, I thought about the beach. We can get something to eat, and you can also feel the sand underneath your feet.”
I could do with that.
“Plus,” she smiles, “you can get drunk. I’ll be your designated driver. Don’t worry about life for today, and drink your worries away.”
I don’t have to be told twice.
We exit the car and head for the beachfront restaurant. The coastal theme decor when we step in, the buzz of conversation from people living in the moment, and the drinks that I see on the tables put me at ease.
Alice and I head for a table, going to sit near the end to get a good view of the ocean.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Anything. Anything strong enough to knock me out.”
She grins. “Okay! Give me a minute, and I’ll be back with your order, miss.”
When she leaves, I turn to take in the view of the ocean—the people lazing on the sand—couples, singles, and families alike. The ones in the water, splashing and laughing.
The wind carries their voices to where I sit, and I sigh heavily.
“I should have taken the time to live my life,” I mutter under my breath. “Instead, I worked all my life, trying to be the person my father was certain I couldn’t be.”
I tried so hard to please him, to be better than Peter, and forgot about living in the moment. Alice returns with a bottle of Booker’s Bourbon and two glasses with ice in them.
She places all three on the table.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted whisky or bourbon, so I went with bourbon.”
I snag a glass and pour myself some until it’s almost to the top—then I down half the glass in one long, forced gulp.
“Are you sure that’s ok?” Alice asks.
“But if you want to,” she continues when I glare at her, “then you should. Like I said, I’m your chaperone tonight.”
I drink the rest and then pour some more. And then some more. And then some more. Before long, I feel the thoughts in my brain getting slurred, and my attention is no longer focused on the people outside but the ones in my head.
“You know,” I open my mouth,” my lawyer quit on me today.”
“What?” She says astonished.
I nod.
“Yup. You can’t believe it, either. That was the same reaction I had when Peter told me.”
“Peter? Your brother?”
“Stepbrother,” I correct.
“Right,” she accepts the correction. “You two…I thought you hated him. When did you reconcile?”
I snicker. “Reconcile? He tricked me, more like. After working his way into my heart, that devious Michael Stone made me think that I had been too harsh on Peter.”
“So, I decided to give him a chance. He had tears in his eyes the day we met, he promised to help me with my case. Do you know that they are best friends?”
Alice takes a sip from her glass and I notice that it’s the first time she’s touched it.
Chaperone. Right.
“I didn’t. I’ve met him a couple of times, but we never said anything more than hi or bye. So, Michael is the lawyer, right?” She seems interested.
I nod, wagging my finger. “He’s a terrible person. After sleeping with me, he—he said it was because we had “needs” at that point. That it was just sex. Can you imagine?” I continue not sure what exactly I am trying to say.
“And then he makes me believe that he’ll win my case. Only to find out that he never had plans of seeing it through to the end. The asshole is out of the country right now,” I ramble.
Remembering the conversation when Michael was adamant that I remain optimistic, makes my blood boil.
“Do you want me to make a few complaints? Get him suspended or fired?”
Fired?
I widen my eyes and then cackle.
“How can you get Michael Stone fired? He’s the founding partner of the firm. He’s a big shot. That’s why he can do whatever he likes. Make me have feelings for him and then dismiss it like it means nothing.” I stammer.
Alice smacks her lips.
“He’s a terrible person. You’re better off without him. If you want, I could find you another attorney.”
I close and open my eyes slowly trying to focus.
Despite Michael’s shitty behavior, I don’t want to find another attorney. I want to hunt him down to the ends of the earth, and then demand that he hold up his end of the bargain.
I want him to take responsibility for the hope he placed in my heart that day outside the police station after I begged him to represent me.
I need him.
Fuck that.
What I need is more bourbon.
I pour some more into my glass, but my fingers tremble, and I end up spilling some on my shirt. I don’t care, though, and I top the glass again.
“Should I go get another to go?” Alice asks.
My head shakes in accordance, using the last shred of clarity available.
“I want to black out, not kill myself. I won’t give the person who framed me the joy of seeing my dead body.” I slur.
“You’re not dying,” she says cheerily.
“Do you know what would happen if I died from alcohol poisoning? They’ll say the guilt ate at me so much I decided to end my life instead of going to prison. They will mock me, even after I’m dead, for being a coward.”
“But I am not a coward, and I didn’t kill Brandon. If it’s the last thing I do, I will prove my innocence,” I declare.
“And I will help you in any way I can,” Alice says with conviction.
It’s strange, I muse as I drink some more. That the person I hated most in the world would turn out to be the only person I can now depend on.
Realizing it makes me somewhat uneasy, but I don’t have a choice.
And instead of fighting with Alice, like I did with Brandon, and he ended up dead, I might as well forgive her and move on.
“I forgive you,” I say barely audible.
Her eyes shine as the words sink in. “You do?” She says with delight.
I nod. “Yeah. I won’t forget it because you essentially ruined what I thought was my content life, but the past is dead. Literally. So, there’s no reason for me to hold on to it.”
Alice flies out of her chair and throws her arms around my body, squishing me in a tight hug that takes some adjusting to before I can breathe. I let her take what she wants, hanging in for a full minute.
“Right,” she releases me. “That was too much. I should respect your personal space. I shouldn’t…you don’t like hugs.”
“I do,” I correct. “But not when they suffocate me.”
She giggles. “Okay. You got it. Do you want to lay on the sand, now? We could watch the sunset, and you can sleep on the ride home.”
Home.
A motel.
On a second thought—
“How about I stay in your house tonight? Just for tonight.”
“You can stay as long as you want. Mi casa es su casa.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Sure. Now, let’s go feel the sand under our feet and between our toes.”
Tipsy and lightheaded, I leave a couple of bills on the table and follow Alice out of the restaurant. For today, I want to live in the moment.
No Brandon.
No Eric.
No Peter.
And definitely no Michael.