Motion to Dismiss (Final Verdict #3)

Harassment （n.） – Jameson

HARASSMENT (N.):

THE ACT OF SYSTEMATIC AND/OR CONTINUED UNWANTED AND ANNOYING ACTIONS OF ONE PARTY OR A GROUP, INCLUDING THREATS AND DEMANDS.

JAMESON

There are certain clients who make me wish I’d never become a lawyer.

They honestly make me wonder what would’ve happened if I’d pursued a life penning crime novels instead of spending endless hours coming up with ridiculous theories on how they’re “not guilty.”

Then again, someone has to do it…

“I swear, I did not do this, Mr. Tate,” my latest client, a college student named Paul Reaves, says. “I can prove it to you.”

“The cameras caught you walking into the aquarium empty-handed,” I say, sighing. “Then they caught you walking out with three penguins.”

“No, the penguins were following me.” He crosses his arms. “I felt bad since they got lost, so I placed them in my backseat.”

“Where you just so happened to have a full tank of ice waiting?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Because I was heading to a frat party afterward, remember? I was planning to take home a lot of beers.”

“What about the bags of penguin food you had in your front seat?”

“That was for my sister,” he says. “She likes to pretend like she’s an arctic animal. Polar bear, penguin, seal, you name it… She’s willing to testify to that.”

I give him a blank stare.

“What am I saying wrong?” His face reddens. “These were your ideas!”

“I didn’t realize how stupid they sounded when they weren’t on my paper…”

“I’m saying exactly what you told me to, Mr. Tate. If these aren’t working, how else can I prove my innocence?”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” I say. “We just have to convince one member on the jury.”

“One?” He arches a brow. “I thought I had twelve jurors.”

“You do,” I say. “But we only need one of them to be dumb enough to fall for this bullshit.”

“Oh. So, you think it’s possible?”

Sadly, yes. “We’ll see.” I stand up from my chair. “Head down the hall to Rachel and ask her to walk you through the cross examination. I need to make a few phone calls.”

“No, wait.” He moves toward me. “My mom is paying you quite well for this defense.”

“Okay. And?”

“And despite the fact that you seem rather off lately, she assured me that you’ve never lost a case,” he says. “So, you better not lose this one. Or else.”

“Are you threatening me, Paul?”

“I’m just saying that my family has a lot of huge contacts and influence in this city, Mr. Tate.” He narrows his eyes. “And if this is the case where your winning streak is finally broken, there will be severe consequences. Clear?”

I blink.

“Are we clear, Mr. Tate?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, and I suggest you get the fuck away from me before I drop your case.”

“What?” His face pales. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“I should’ve done it the moment I signed on to represent someone dumb enough to steal from the New York Aquarium in broad daylight.” I glare at him as his eyes widen. “But I guarantee you—unfortunately—that we won’t lose this case. Now, get the hell out of my office.”

He immediately rushes away, and I wait until the door shuts.

Sighing, I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts, stopping when Scarlett’s name appears.

Today is the first day in weeks that I’ve managed to wake up without thinking about where she is and what she’s doing, but visions of her face and memories of her laughter still haunt every corner of my mind.

“How many guilty-ass people do you need to get off before enough is enough?”

My chest aches as I remember some of her final words to me.

“Nine hundred sixty-seven, Scarlett,” I mutter to myself. “I’m only a few away from my goal…”

I know better than to call—especially since she hasn’t attempted to reach me once, but I can’t help myself.

I’ve had enough.

Her line rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

I keep my finger hovered over the disconnect button in case it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” She answers. “Hello?”

“Hello, Scarlett.”

She sucks in a breath. “I could’ve sworn I blocked your number, Jameson.”

“I obviously have more than one.”

“I won’t be saving it.”

“That hurts my feelings.”

“You don’t have any of those.”

“How have you been?” I ask. “Have you landed any roles lately?”

She says nothing.

“I’ve had better times, but I’m okay,” I say. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Silence.

“I’ve decided that you don’t have to give me an apology for the way you walked out on me,” I say. “We can have a make-up dinner, spend the night at my place, and go back to how things used to be.”

“Are you on drugs, Jameson?”

“Never.”

“Then are you just now waking up from a coma?”

“If I say yes, would that make you consider dinner?”

“No.” She hisses. “Nothing you could ever say would make me reconsider wasting another second with you. I’ve moved on.”

“What?” My blood boils. “You’re with someone else?”

“That’s none of your business, Jameson.”

“It is…” I can’t believe this shit. “Tell me.”

“Don’t you have a huge case to work on for my father?” There’s venom in her voice. “Surely, you should be spending your time on your big, ‘eight-figure client,’ instead of on the person who wants nothing to do with you.”

“It’s only been a little over a month since I saw you,” I say. “Whatever you have with this new guy better not be serious.”

“And if it is?”

A heavy pang knocks against my chest before I can answer her question.

“He won’t measure up to me in any way,” I say, finally. “You’d be lowering your standards.”

“My only standard is that he’s not you.” She ends the call.

Before I can call her back, my door opens and Rachel pokes her head inside.

She gives me the “Your client is a fucking idiot” look, the look that lets me know I’m going to have to resort to drastic measures if I want to win at trial.

“I’ll handle it,” I say to her.

“Today?”

“Yes. Today, Rachel.” I nod. “I’ll make the call right now.”

“In that case, you won’t mind me watching.” She steps inside, her arms crossed. “You’re still off your A-game these days and I no longer trust you. No offense.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Make a note to fire yourself eight weeks from now.”

“Please.” She points to my phone. “Make the call.”

I consider sending Scarlett a text before dialing, but I hesitate.

It can wait for a couple minutes…

Scrolling down to Damien Carter’s name, I hold back a sigh and hit call.

“Hello, Jameson,” he answers before it can ring. “Are you calling to finally take me up on my offer to work at Hamilton & Associates?”

“No, never,” I say. “I need a favor.”

“Only if it’s one hundred percent legal, Mr. Tate.”

“Would I be calling you if it was legal?”

“Probably not.” He laughs. “What do you need?”

“An alternate defense for a penguin thief,” I say. “And by ‘alternate defense,’ I mean lots of dirt on the Aquarium owners—any violations they’ve ever had, camera footage of things behind the scenes, and anything that would make them drop the case before trial.”

“How devious of you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“When do you need this done by?”

“Next Friday,” I say. “Send me an invoice with whatever you find.”

“Don’t you have interns or an assistant who can do this for you?”

“My most trusted assistant has too much on her plate right now.”

“Understandable. Just so you know, I’ll have to invoice you for this phone call, too.”

“Thank you for reminding me why I don’t like you.”

“You love me, Jameson.”

“I tolerate you.” I end the call and look over at Rachel. “Happy?”

“For now,” she says. “See you in an hour for the Lippman deposition. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

“Last I checked, I’m the boss here, Rachel.”

“Well, whenever you stop moping around and forgetting appointments, I’ll go back to treating you like it.” She leaves the room and I plop down in a chair.

Before I can call Scarlett again, I notice she’s sent me new text messages.

Scarlett

DO NOT EVER CALL ME AGAIN & DO NOT COME SEE ME.

I’m flying into town this weekend for a FRIEND, not you, and I’ll be flying back out to my new life WITHOUT YOU.

Forever.

Thank you in advance.

I had no idea you flew away to begin with...