Chapter 19 #2
Fuck me, I didn’t. And I couldn’t even lie about it without him picking up some subtle change in my penmanship.
Suppressing a sigh, I folded up Loche’s note and tucked it in my tote bag, which I’d stowed under the bench, keeping it out of sight of Conrad because the last thing I needed was another thing about me for him to dissect.
As though taking my hint, Loche returned his attention to the juror box and Conrad, only casually inspecting me from the corner of his eye every now and then, which I tried to tell myself I didn’t see.
“I swear to God, if that man tells me to take a CD out of a disc drive and blow on it one more time like it’s a video game cartridge from the nineties, I’m going to lose my shit on him,” Jason said as he, Caroline, and I sat at the bar back at the hotel, commiserating over the first day of trial.
“Yeah, well, I can’t help you there, but if you think of a way to snap your fingers to make a witness appear on the stand an hour earlier than they were subpoenaed to be there, please let me know.
” Caroline finished off her rum and Coke and plunked the glass down on the bar.
“Because Conrad seems to think that’s a thing I can totally do. ”
“You see, that’s your problem, because expertise in conjuring was clearly on the job description they posted online.
” I rolled my eyes at the absurdity that was Conrad Harrison, trying not to let myself think about how goosebumps had erupted over my arm whenever Loche’s arm accidentally brushed against mine while taking notes during the trial.
“Online?” Jason asked. “You mean, you didn’t get their classified ad written on a stone tablet delivered to your house like I did?”
Caroline sighed. “For a firm that boasts so many multi-million dollar verdicts, you would think we would have the technology to back it up. Makes you wonder where all that money is going.”
Straight into Conrad’s pockets or an offshore account earmarked for firm pizza parties.
“I don’t know how Loche does it, being Conrad’s nephew and having to work with him. You would have to commit me.”
“You’ve known Loche and Conrad for a few years now, right? Has their relationship always been strained?”
Caroline nodded. “Pretty much, but it feels like something has shifted with them. There’s more tension, which is saying something because there’s always been tension.
Conrad has always nitpicked everything Loche does, from his work performance to his appearance, tattoos, and such.
It’s like he has something over him, and he knows that he can’t push back. ”
“Well, that’s it for me,” Jason said, getting up from his stool. “It’s eleven and Conrad wants me at the courthouse at seven in the morning, sharp, which I don’t know how I’m going to accomplish considering the courthouse doesn’t open until eight.”
“Just blow on the door,” I muttered.
Caroline giggled. “Don’t suggest that to Conrad or he’ll have him do it.” She stood up, throwing a five down on the bar for the bartender. “I’m done for the night, too. You coming, Ever?”
I looked down at my vodka cranberry. “Not yet. I need to decompress for a few more minutes if I want a fair chance of falling asleep. I won’t be long.”
Caroline nodded. “See you bright and early.”
“Which already isn’t going to be early enough for Conrad,” I grumbled. Caroline’s comments on Conrad and Loche’s relationship brought back the memory of a conversation I’d had with Shelby. Hadn’t she mentioned that Caroline had seen Loche’s tattoos? What if—
“Caroline,” I called out to her. She turned around, looking at the purse clutched in her hand.
“Did I forget something?” she asked, confused.
“No, uh, quick question. Have you ever seen Loche’s tattoos?” Images of V’s inked torso flashed through my head as Caroline furrowed her brow in thought. “Shelby said she thought you had.”
She rolled her eyes. “I bet Shelby did. I’m not sure exactly what he has, but I did see some ink on his chest and stomach area. Maybe some on the arms. I really can’t remember. He was kind of a ways back, and it was only for a fleeting second. Why do you ask?”
I nodded. “Just curious.” And back to the drawing board.
I picked up my phone and opened a text message from Katy. She’d attached a selfie she’d snapped of her and Vinny. She was crouched in front of Vinny’s aquarium with Vinny looking directly into the phone as though she knew Katy was expecting an Instagram-worthy photograph.
At least, I didn’t have to worry there. Katy cared about her godturtle just as much as I did.
Right as I was about to set my phone down again, another notification caught my attention from the app of my home security camera.
Most likely, it was just letting me know that Katy had come over, but I opened it anyway to see that motion had been detected about ten minutes ago.
Curious, I clicked on the footage, which took me to a view of my front porch—absolutely nothing else, aside from the faintest outline of a figure walking down the sidewalk in the background.
I squinted, trying to catch any specific details from the grainy footage that I could.
It didn’t look like V, and it wouldn’t make sense that it would be him because he knew I wasn’t home.
Yet, it really didn’t make sense that it would be anyone else, either, considering it was dark outside, and the street I lived on wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis.
But it’s not like walking on a sidewalk is against the law.
At least I knew the camera worked well enough to pick up images several feet from my front porch.
I’d become so engrossed with my phone that I didn’t notice the man who’d been seated at the other end of the bar move from his stool to take a seat on the empty stool next to mine.
“Here for a work function?” he asked, commanding my attention.
I looked up, inspecting him to make sure he wasn’t one of the jurors or anyone else associated with the trial.
He was older than me—maybe in his late twenties—with shaggy blond hair, reminding me a little bit of Heath Ledger from 10 Things I Hate About You.
“Trial,” I answered him, immediately wishing I’d just said yeah instead.
“Oh, a court thing?” I gave him a small smile, looking up just long enough to nod.
“Are you a lawyer?”
At what point did men take a hint when a woman was making it painfully obvious she didn’t want to have the conversation they were trying to initiate?
Because my lack of eye contact and interest in my cell phone should have been heard loud and clear by blondie.
“No,” I answered him. “Definitely not a lawyer.”
“Makes sense. I’m sure it’s a lot of schooling to be a lawyer, right?”
Was he implying that I was too lazy to be a lawyer? Or too stupid?
“Yeah, and who needs to learn things, am I right?” I rolled my eyes, trying to zoom in on the figure in the footage.
“See? You get it.”
“Apparently, I get nothing.”
“Don’t be like that. That’s not what I meant.” He paused as though searching his brain for all the tactics in his playbook he’d used before that had actually worked. “I’m Brian.”
Apparently, that playbook was more of a memo.
“Good for you, Brian.”
I could sense the tension radiating from him as I kept my eyes on my phone, and I was just beginning to contemplate getting up when Brian’s sausage-like appendages snatched it from my hand.
“Would it kill you to be nice?” he asked.
Where the hell he came from, I may never know. But only nanoseconds later, Loche was there like a flash of lightning, with his fists bringing the thunder. Brian had barely finished his question when Loche’s hand darted out and gripped Brian’s wrist.
“Don’t you ever take anything out of my girlfriend’s hand again.” Loche sneered at Brian, twisting his wrist in a direction wrists weren’t meant to twist. My phone fell from Brian’s hand, caught by Loche before it struck the bar.
Girlfriend?
“Okay! Okay!” Brian exclaimed, pain infiltrating his voice. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“And that wasn’t information you needed to know. She clearly wasn’t interested, and you weren’t going to take no for an answer, were you, Brian?” My stomach turned when Loche twisted Brian’s wrist to what had to be pushing the breaking point.
“I wasn’t going to do anything to her, man. I just wanted to talk.” A sharp, sickening crack was followed by a yelp from Brian, not unlike a wounded animal.
“Loche, stop. You’re going to break his wrist.”
“Apologize to her,” Loche commanded Brian, ignoring my pleas. Brian’s face had turned an unhealthy shade of pale, and he looked as though he might pass out at any second. “Then I’ll let go.”
“I’m sorry.” Brian’s strained voice adhered to Loche’s command.
“Jesus, Loche. Just let him go.”
“Say it louder,” Loche ordered, bringing his face closer to Brian’s ear.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry.” Brian’s bellows increased in volume, his voice rising with each ‘I’m sorry’.
Satisfied at last, Loche let go of Brian’s wrist, and his hand immediately fell into his lap, lifeless, as he jumped up from his stool and ran out of the hotel bar.
“Was all that even necessary?” I raised my voice to just shy of a yell.
“He shouldn’t be touching women without their consent.” Loche shrugged, taking a seat in the stool vacated by Brian.
“Are you the bro cops? You can’t just put your hands on someone like that. You’re lucky he doesn’t call the police.”
“And what would he tell them if he called them? That he grabbed a phone out of a woman’s hand because he was butt hurt that she wasn’t paying attention to him?”
“How long had you been watching our interaction to know that? Were you waiting in the shadows, watching me, waiting to spring into action like you’re my goddamn savior? And what’s with calling me your girlfriend?”