Decide （v.） – Scarlett
DECIDE (V.):
FOR A JUDGE, ARBITRATOR, COURT OF APPEALS OR OTHER MAGISTRATE OR TRIBUNAL TO REACH A DETERMINATION (DECISION) BY CHOOSING WHAT IS RIGHT AND WRONG ACCORDING TO THE LAW AS HE/SHE SEES IT.
SCARLETT
The following Sunday
Hey, um…I’m back at your place.
Jameson
The code is the same as it’s been all week. I’ll probably be back on Friday.
So, you’re spending another night in your office?
Yes. I have a bedroom here.
Okay…Can I stop by then?
Maybe a few weeks from now.
Istare at our latest text conversation, feeling a bout of whiplash.
We’ve had this exact same exchange four days in a row.
Sighing, I start to head to the elevator.
If I’m going to sleep alone, I might as well stay in my dorm.
I hit the down button, and Jameson’s name suddenly pops on my screen via phone call.
“Yes?” I answer.
“Yes?” He mocks me. “Is that how you’ve been answering the phone lately?”
“No.” I smile. “I’m just upset.”
“Don’t be,” he says. “I told you we’ll have to figure it out. I’m drowning in cases. It’s not personal.”
“Okay.”
“So, don’t go back home. Stay.”
The elevator dings, and the doors glide open.
“Fine.” I return to his suite. “So, I’ll see you in a few days?”
“That’s the plan,” he says, and I wait for him to say he’ll call back, but he doesn’t.
“You have four voice character auditions this week, correct?” he asks instead.
“Yes.” My heart skips a beat at the fact that he remembered. “Those are for film, though. Not the stage.”
“Do those pay better?”
“Only if you’re willing to move to Los Angeles.” I unlock the door and walk into his kitchen. “I might have to consider that someday.”
“I wouldn’t appreciate that.”
“I’m sure.” I laugh. “Want to tell me about what’s going on with my father’s case?”
“Nice try.” There’s a smile in his voice. “You can tell me about your upcoming rehearsal schedule, though.”
“Of course…” I roll my eyes. “Give me one second.”
I put my phone on mute and set my bags on the counter, knocking a stack of mail to the floor.
Shit.
I stoop down to pick it up, but the names on the envelopes make me pause.
Peter Hansel. Elizabeth Grisham. Damien Knight. Lucas Hunter. James Tate.
I chalk the latter one up to a misspelling, but the other four definitely aren’t, and these parcels weren’t forwarded like my mail was.
They weren’t even marked with this address or this city.
It’s like he stole them from their real addresses.
Or maybe they’re clients like my father…
Tucking the one with my father’s name under my arm, I return the others to where they were.
I unmute my phone and plop onto the living room couch.
“Hello?” I say.
“I’ll have to call you back, Scarlett,” he says. “I have a client waiting on my office line.”
“A guilty one?”
“Not when I’m done with him.” He laughs and ends the call.
I stare at the envelope with my father’s name, pressing my pinky against the letters, wondering what exactly he needs help with legally.
“Opening someone else’s mail is a crime,” I whisper to myself. “Opening someone else’s mail is a crime.”
I wait for ten minutes, vowing to put it back where it belongs, but I can’t help it.
I gently slide my finger under the flap and tear it open.
It’s a short letter, and the letterhead—Hamilton & Associates—takes up most of the page.
Jameson,
I’ve looked into this as you requested.
You have most of the expected charges correct, but you missed a few below. Expected to be announced next month.
Until you decide to switch sides, good luck.
Client: Lucas Hunter III
Illegal Gambling & Racketeering (Main Charges)
Wire Fraud (Sixteen Counts)
False Imprisonment (Three Counts)
Attempted Murder (Eight Counts)
The paper slips from my hands, and everything around me fades into a blur.
What the fuck…