Chapter 3
My jaw ticked as I sat inside the courtroom in downtown Charleston, seated next to my client, Stephanie.
Her soon-to-be ex-husband’s lawyer was currently arguing that we had no proof of the infidelity she’d accused him of, which would cancel out their prenup due to the infidelity clause written within it.
The ex-husband was a big-time advertising executive who’d been sleeping with his secretary for the majority of their marriage.
My client was a stay-at-home mom to their three-year-old son, and he was determined to leave her with nothing, including custody of their kid.
Lewis Sullivan, the lawyer for the ex-husband, was an arrogant prick I’d gone up against a few times before. He worked for Colson Legal Group, one of the biggest firms in Charleston.
“Mr. Callahan.” Judge Edwards looked at me. I’d known the man for years; he’d been good friends with my dad.
I stood. “Your Honor, we do have proof of the infidelity. The defendant doesn’t think we do because he tried to wipe their home computer of any evidence but clearly didn’t know what he was doing.”
Judge Edwards gestured to me, and I gave the bailiff the files I had to give him. “How did he allegedly try to wipe it?”
“He took it to a local shop and asked them to reinstall the operating system after he’d removed it.
He told them he didn’t need any files backed up and to wipe it clean.
My client went to the shop to retrieve the computer after she suspected he’d taken it somewhere—that was the only local place nearby.
The employee hadn’t done a wipe yet, only the reinstall, and was able to recover all of the files the defendant thought he got rid of within a couple of hours.
And I have a statement from the employee there, and they’re willing to testify if need be. ”
“That’s bullshit!” the soon-to-be ex shouted.
The judge looked at him. “If you can’t control yourself in my courtroom, I’ll have you removed.”
“It’s obvious the defendant is trying to get the prenup to stick simply so he doesn’t have to give my client what she deserves,” I said.
“That is completely false,” Lewis interjected. “And how do we know that this so-called evidence wasn’t planted on their shared computer by the plaintiff herself after she retrieved it?”
I looked over at Lewis, my brow furrowing. “I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a smarter statement than what you just said.”
“Mr. Callahan!” Judge Edwards admonished. “One more statement like that, and I’ll hold you in contempt.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” I held up my hands.
“But that is the most ridiculous accusation. The photos show the defendant entangled in lewd acts with his secretary, photos that he took and saved to the computer himself. So, unless they claim that my client is some expert Photoshop guru who can alter the footprint trails left behind on computer files, there is no way the proof can be refuted.”
Judge Edwards flipped through what I’d given him, then looked up at the defense, arching his brow as if to silently ask what they had to say about it. When Lewis remained silent, the judge took off his glasses and let out a breath. “The prenup is out.”
I walked out of the courtroom alongside Stephanie twenty minutes later. “Thank you,” she said.
I smiled at her. “It’s not over yet, but you’re one step closer to being able to put this behind you.”
“Do you think he’s going to try anything else?”
“He might, just to simply drag it out to be a pain in your ass, but he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. And if his lawyer has a single brain cell left, he’ll advise him of that. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and we’ll figure it out. Go get your boy. I’ll keep you updated.”
I made my way down the stone steps and headed for my car after saying goodbye to Stephanie. “Callahan.” I turned at the sound of Lewis’s voice, watching him approach me. “My client is willing to discuss settling outside of court.”
“Oh? I wonder where his sudden change of heart came from,” I quipped.
Lewis sighed. “Look, are you interested or not?”
I smirked. “I’ll speak to my client and get back to you.” He nodded, sizing me up again before walking off. “Dick,” I mumbled.
After heading home around five to change and grab something quick to snack on, I pulled back into the law office parking lot that evening.
We always parked here for Tuesday Trivia and Saturday nights out because it was easier to do that and walk the couple of blocks to The Sandbar than to scour for parking closer to the bars.
As per usual, I was the last to arrive. Gabe’s and Lucas’s cars were already parked, but Morgan’s car was nowhere in sight. According to Gabe, she couldn’t make it that night due to a work project.
I was oh so sad about that…
Not.
I reached out to Callie earlier to see if she wanted to take her place for trivia that night, but after what happened last week when she and Lucas came face-to-face for the first time in a decade, she declined.
When I made it to the bar and walked inside, I met Lucas’s hopeful gaze from where he sat at the table, and when I shook my head, I watched the poor guy deflate.
“About time you showed up.”
I looked over and grinned at Susan, the owner of The Sandbar. “Aw, Suzie-Q, did you miss me?”
She shook her head with a laugh as I slung an arm over her shoulders. “You want your usual?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “And can I get an order of wings, please?”
“Anything for my second favorite guy,” she teased with a wink.
“One of these days, I’m going to take Luke’s place and be your favorite. Mark my words, Suzie-Q.” She slipped off to grab my drink, and I headed for the table. “Don’t look so glum, chum,” I said to Lucas as I sat down.
“She’s not coming…”
“No.” I shook my head. “Maybe…maybe she just needs some more time.”
“I heard about your little outburst in front of Judge Edwards today,” Gabe said with a smirk, trying to change the subject.
I scoffed with a roll of my eyes. “It was not an outburst. Far from it. I made a comment that was not the most professional, and he reprimanded me with a warning. And if Lewis Sullivan wasn’t such a fucking moron, I wouldn’t have to remind him of how stupid everything that comes out of his mouth is. ”
Gabe snorted. “I’ll give you that one. Most of the Colson firm seems to be filled with idiots who have more ego than brains.”
“Hear, hear,” I said, raising my beer.
We chatted until Susan brought over my order of wings along with the platters Lucas and Gabe ordered. “So, I take it you guys are down a player tonight?” she asked, noticing the empty chair usually taken up by Satan.
“Yeah,” Gabe answered with a nod. Then, his eyes shot to the door. “Or maybe not…”
When I looked over and saw Morgan walking toward us, I grumbled under my breath.
“Hey,” Gabe greeted her with a grin. “I thought you had the proposal for that project to work on?”
“I finished earlier than I thought, so I rushed here.”
“Oh joy,” I deadpanned. “How did we get so lucky?”
Morgan looked at me as she sat down. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to deal with your shit tonight, Wesley.”
I ignored her comment and the use of my government name—something she did solely to piss me off—and smirked. “We were having a perfectly nice and quiet time before you showed up.”
“Well, there’s the door.” She gestured across the room. “Feel free to leave any time. No one will stop you.”
“I’m good.” I grinned. “I think I’ll stick around just to annoy the hell out of you.”
She rolled her eyes before looking at Susan to order her drink and something to eat.
Lucas stared at her like he was contemplating whether to start pleading for her help with the Callie situation but then decided better of it, silencing himself with a sip of his beer as she turned her attention to Gabe and started talking to him.
I honestly wasn’t sure why she bothered coming out when Gabe was the only one she enjoyed being around.
She had plenty of other friends to hang out with, so why she would subject herself to being around someone she couldn’t stand—who couldn’t stand her with equal measure—and a guy she disliked for breaking her best friend’s heart was beyond me.
Maybe it was to prove a point. I wasn’t sure.
I wasn’t going to attempt to understand her or the way her demon mind worked.
That would require way more energy than I felt like giving and would be futile.
We started trivia, writing down our answers while munching down food; the emcee would ask the questions and go around to each table after to grade our answers, marking down a tally to keep score.
Tuesday Trivia at The Sandbar wasn’t always PG-13; the topics ranged from pop culture, sports, and random sex-positive questions, all in the name of fun.
“True or false: wearing socks during sex can actually increase your chance of having an orgasm.”
The tables around us chuckled, and I scoffed as I snatched the pen to write down our answer. “That’s obviously false. I’ve never had a girl keep socks on.”
When the thirty-second timer ran out, the emcee started moving around the tables while announcing the answer. “It is true, based on a study done in the Netherlands.”
Morgan snorted. “Sounds like you should make sure your flings are wearing socks from here on out.”
“With me, they don’t need socks, thank you very much,” I countered.
“Do you know how many women fake orgasms?”
“Sounds like you’re familiar with it.” I smirked. “Do you need someone to show you what a real one feels like?”
She flashed a condescending grin. “In your dreams.”
“Oh, I wasn’t offering. I don’t have access to the amount of holy water I would need to shower with after.”
Morgan mocked me as she flipped me off while Gabe and Lucas shook their heads with quiet snickers.
An hour later, trivia ended with us losing by two measly points and coming in second place. And, of course, the team that won had to be the most obnoxious about the reaping bragging rights that came with coming in first.
“It’s fucking trivia, not the Super Bowl. Calm down,” I muttered as I stood from the table and headed toward the bar for a refill.
While standing at the bar, I ended up talking to a cute blonde who was out that night celebrating a friend’s birthday. The casual conversation quickly turned to shameless flirting, and I was starting to feel pretty good about the direction my Tuesday night was suddenly headed and how it might end.
My eyes dropped to her lips, watching how they wrapped around her straw to take a sip of the drink I’d bought her. “What are you doing when you leave here?” I asked, leaning in a little closer.
“Not sure.” She smiled. “Why, you want to join us?”
I smirked. “I might want to join you.”
“Is that right?” She giggled. “And what would happen if you joined me?”
“Oh, I’m having all sorts of ideas fill my head.” A deep chuckle left me. “We’d definitely be in for a long night.”
“Britt, come on!” A girl ran up and grabbed her arm. “We’re going somewhere else.”
I tried not to scoff at the interruption. “Where are you headed? Maybe we can continue this…”
She looked at me and smiled ruefully. “That’s okay.”
Ouch. “I thought we were having a good conversation?”
“It was…nice. But I don’t usually go home with random guys I meet at bars.” She shrugged with a grin. “Thanks for the drink, though.”
It was…nice. Nice? What the hell?
As she left with her friends, I heard a sardonic laugh and looked over just as Morgan stepped up to the bar beside me. “Aw. It looks like Wesley is losing his touch.” She signaled to the bartender, wanting to close out her tab.
There she went with my name again. “I’m not losing anything,” I scoffed. “She just…had plans with her friends.”
“Uh-huh.” She snorted. “Is that why you look all grumpy and frustrated?”
“I’m not grumpy or frustrated,” I lied. “And maybe you should worry less about me going home with someone and more about yourself and the reason you’re still single.”
She paid her tab before turning her narrowed eyes on me. “I’m single because I want to be.”
Something told me that was a lie. “Or maybe it’s because you have the personality of a blow-up doll.”
“I’m sure you know a lot about those, huh?” She smirked. “But I bet you couldn’t even leave one of them satisfied.” She turned and walked away, but not without throwing one last jab over her shoulder. “With or without socks.”
“Oh, how original of you,” I mockingly called out, but she didn’t look back. I scoffed as I turned back to the bar, downing the rest of my drink before paying my tab and calling it a damn night.
I walked inside my apartment just before midnight and tossed my keys into the basket on the counter before heading to my room to change.
My place was a quintessential bachelor pad—dark colors throughout, sleek and sophisticated.
I stripped off my clothes, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth before returning and flopping back on my bed.
I let out a breath as I stared up at the ceiling before rubbing my face with a groan. Morgan had been right about one thing. I was frustrated. More than frustrated. This slump I was in was complete bullshit.
If things kept going the way they were, I was going to be walking around with one arm looking like Popeye from my nights spent with Rosy Palm and her five friends.