Chapter 4
FOUR
“Fuck,” I utter as I walk past her aide’s desk. This was not how this shit was supposed to go. Fuck!
“Didn’t you see me calling you?” Aven asks frantically after she practically runs into me in the hall.
“Judge Wright moved us up in his calendar. We are due in his courtroom in fifteen. When you didn’t answer, I went to holding and told Ace,” she fires out.
“Quintus, did you hear me?” she asks, and although I barely heard her, I nod.
My mind is still in Mireya’s chambers. Her stern voice, tight face, fiery eyes, and anger are stuck in my mental.
She’s pissed, and technically, I don’t blame her.
I’m never going to regret doing what I had to for my brother but I regret the marriage.
Real shit, that wasn’t the plan. Drinks would have been enough for a judge like her to remove herself from a case.
The look of any inappropriateness is enough for her.
That’s all it was supposed to be. Fucking up shit for a woman, a Black woman at that, was never the plan. I’m not built like that.
I fucked up, really fucked up, and I have to fix this shit after I get Ace bail.
“Yeah, I heard you,” I finally tell her. “You ready?”
She stares at me for a moment to gauge my true mood. Aven is good at that. She’s been my legal assistant since I opened the doors of Bako that shit was sexy as fuck though.
I love a confident woman who’s not afraid to demand what she wants; add a beautiful thick body to the confidence and it’s fucking perfection.
Thoughts of Mireya and our current new relationship cause me to hop in my GX 550 and head back to the courthouse. When I pull up, my cell vibrates so I grab it from my cupholder. It’s a text.
Shuga: What happened with Ace?
Me: He’s out on bail. Sade just picked him up.
Shuga: Thank God! I can’t stop crying. Thank you, baby.
Me: I told you I would handle it.
Shuga: I know. I know.
Shuga: Are you still there?
Me: Yeah. I’ll be there a little later.
Shuga: Take your time, sweetheart. We’re good.
Satisfied that my people are good, I confidently head inside the court to her chambers. Her cool aide smiles as soon as she sees me. I know most judges and their aides are close like me and Aven. so I wonder if she knows what’s going on with me and her boss.
“You’re back,” she greets with a smile.
In case she doesn’t know what’s going on, I keep things professional with my response. “Yes. Is the judge available?” I ask.
“She’s in chambers but let me see if she’s free.
Have a seat?” she says with a nod. Then she turns to her laptop and starts typing for a minute before looking up at me.
Her next words come out slow, almost apologetically.
“Um…she’s…She’s busy. Not available. Sorry.
Would you like to get on her calendar next week? ”
“Does she have court later this afternoon?” I counter.
Her head turns back toward Mireya’s door then she looks at me and shakes her head. “No. She’s done for today. She just doesn’t want to?—”
“To see me?” I ask, completing her sentence and she smirks.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you and the judge and I don’t want to know until she tells me. I’m going to mind my Black woman business and take a break,” she says, then stands. “If you sneak in there while I’m on break,” she adds with air quotes on break. “I’m not to blame.”
When she steps around her desk and walks out, I head into Mireya’s chambers. Because she’s standing, facing the wall behind her desk in the middle of a phone conversation, she doesn’t hear or see me enter.
“Have a drink ready as soon as I walk in the damn door,” she says.
Because I don’t want to be a damn creep, I alert her to my presence before she gets too deep in her conversation.
Loudly, I clear my throat and she turns around.
Her eyes roll hard as hell when they meet mine.
“Seriously? I gotta go but I’ll be there soon,” she says before placing her cell on her desk.
Her eyes blaze into me then she snaps, “I honestly think something is wrong with you. Why the hell are you back in my chambers?”
“Honestly, to apologize again and make sure you’re good,” I admit because I hate that things went left and I have her in this predicament.
We’re married, and at least until the election, we need to stay married. For me, it’s a fucking win-win. There’s not a man on this earth who wouldn’t want Mireya. My wife is beautiful, confident, feisty as shit, and sexy as hell…
My wife.
The thought of her as my wife causes a smile to form on my face. She sees it and doesn’t like that shit at all. Her eyes squint and she shakes her head in disgust. I’ve got some work to do to win her over.
“Well, I’m definitely not good.” She shakes her head again before turning back to her standing coat rack. She adjusts her judicial robe then steps behind her desk. “I need you out of my office and out of my face,” she says as she gathers her things.
“I can do that. We probably should go somewhere and talk this shit through anyway,” I suggest.
She stops moving, places a large designer bag on her desk, rests her hands on the bag, then lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.
“I’m going my way and you’re going wherever the hell you go,” she says, then raises one hand.
While waving it between us, she adds, “Because this… This married nonsense is too much to digest right now and I can’t.
Not tonight, and hell, probably not tomorrow either.
However simple your intentions were, the ramifications of them are far from simple and it’s fucking with my life and career.
I can’t deal with that or you right now. ”
I truly feel like shit so I respect her boundary and merely say, “You got that. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
“You might be but that doesn’t change this,” she says while shaking her head. After lifting her bag, she says, “Go home, Counselor, and since my aide seems to have an affinity for you, leave your number with her. When I’m not feeling murderous, I’ll contact you.”
The fire and anger in her eyes blazes but there’s also something else, maybe pleading. She really wants me to leave. Respecting her verbal and nonverbal wishes, I nod then walk out of her office. Her aide Kenya is back at her desk, smiling.
“So?” she asks pensively.
“She told me to give you my number,” I respond before reaching inside my jacket pocket. After grabbing my business card holder, I hand her one of my cards.
After examining it, she smiles then says lowly, “I’m going to give you her number but please, please don’t let her know you got it from me.
” She grabs her sticky notepad, scribbles numbers, then gives it to me.
“If you do something to hurt her and make me regret this, I’ll come for you,” she says, then winks.
“What do you think is going on?” I question, curious as hell. She’s been nothing but nice to me for some unknown reason.
“I’m a judicial aide for the top judge in this court. Anything regarding her makes it to me, anything.” Her eyes raise and she glares at me. “She doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to. Ever.”
I don’t either. At some point last night, I’d decided to marry her just like she did me.
“We’re alike with that,” I admit.
“I figured. Good luck,” she says, then nods.
“Thanks.”
After folding the note with my wife’s number and placing it with my business cards, I leave the office to head home.
I’ll give Mireya her space and some time to fully digest this shit.
Hell, I need it too. At the end of the day, I know just like she does that we have to stay married.
I just need to make my wife like me and be at peace with our new dynamic.
I’m a married damn man.