by Kira Ward
“Mr. Turgess,” I said, purposely avoiding any niceties.
He seemed a little thrown by my lack of conversation. He glanced at the secretary, his eyes drifting over her bottom as she walked out of the room.
“Shirlene,” he called after her, “would you inform the others that Mr. Foster is here and bring us some whiskey?” He turned back to me. “It’s after five, after all.”
I moved around him to take a seat at the head of the large, round table that looked better suited to a biker’s club than a law office. It was carved of maple with the firm’s initials set deep in the center. Someone watched much too much television.
“That’s Floyd’s seat,” Mr. Turgess mumbled even as he settled his girth into the chair to my left.
“What is this all about?” I asked. “Are you already throwing in the towel?”
“No sir. I assure you we are not.”
“Then why did you ask me here today? You are aware that my client and I go to trial next week on the reckless driving charge?”
“Reckless driving? I thought it had been elevated to attempted vehicular manslaughter.”
“I believe there was something on the indictment about that, but it won’t hold water in court.”
“You’re confident.”
“It’s easy to be confident when your client is being falsely charged by a corrupt police force.”
“If you believe that,” another voice behind me stated, “then you might be better off going to the Texas Rangers than to court.”
I turned in my seat, liking the revolving facto of the surprisingly comfortable office chair, and studied the tall, thin man who’d just come through the door. He was older than Mr. Turgess, but he had a sense of dignity about him that was missing from the other. He would be a worthy opponent if the civil trial ever went forward. I almost relished the challenge.
“I may still do that,” I said, referring to his comment about the Texas Rangers, “as soon as I’ve cleared my client’s name.”
“Your sister, you mean.”
My eyebrows rose slightly. They’d done their homework.
“My stepsister.”
“Interesting family dynamics,” he chuckled as another man walked into the room and handed him a manila folder. My heart sank a little. The move, the generic folder—it was all stuff I’d done before. They had something.
“I’m Jack Floyd,” the man said as he approached me. “I apologize for my rudeness. Should have introduced myself the moment I walked into the room.”
“No problem,” I said as I swiveled around and watched him take a seat two down on my right.
“This is our associate, Mr. Rodriquez,” he said, gesturing to the man who’d handed him the envelope and now stood behind him like some sort of bodyguard.
I nodded, but my gaze remained locked on Floyd. “Why was I summoned here?”
Floyd looked down at me in a way I’d seen hundreds of times before. He underestimated me. He thought I was someone he could push around. Boy, was he going to be surprised when I didn’t back down.
“As you know,” Floyd began, still with that look, “we handle all of Joel Johnston’s legal affairs. And that includes the civil suit being brought against your client, Eden…” He paused, making a big show of trying to remember her name. “Eden O’Reilly.”
I inclined my head slightly, trying to keep the anger that was beginning to boil just under the surface controled.
“I understand she goes on trial next week for the criminal part of this case.”
“She goes on trial next week for the fake charge of reckless driving.”
Floyd’s eyebrow rose just like his partner’s had. “Reckless driving? I was under the impression that the charge was much more serious than that.”
“Let’s just get to the point.”
Floyd studied me for a second and then he inclined his head much like I had. Clearly it meant the same thing to him—I’ll-listen-but-I-think-you’re-full-of-crap.
“Well,” he said softly, “I’m sure you understand that we are very interested in the outcome of that trial, because it will have a definitive impact on our side of things.”
“Yes. When my client is found innocent, you will have to drop your suit.”
Floyd smiled. A real, genuine smile that might have been pleasant under other circumstances. “I certainly believe you’re as good as you think you are. But, unfortunately, we’re going to have to ask you to step aside before the trial begins.”
That wasn’t what I expected to hear. I thought I was there for some sort of deal. It never occurred to me that they might…what the hell did he think he knew?
“I’m sorry, but I believe only a judge can ask a lawyer to remove himself from a case. Isn’t that true here in Texas as it is in most states?”
Floyd nodded. “Oh, of course. We can’t force you to step away from your sister’s case.”
The emphasis on the word “sister” made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Something wasn’t right here.
“Then why would you even ask?”
Floyd tapped his finger against the manila envelope his associate handed him when they first came into the room. He seemed to be contemplating something. I got the impression, however, that he was simply trying to keep me on pins and needles as long as he could.
“I have reason to believe you and your sister are conducting a relationship that…well, let’s say, could be quite scandalous in the small town where she resides. Doesn’t your mother—a good Catholic woman—also live in that same small town?”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was getting to. I stood so quickly that my chair flew back across the room.
“I don’t know who you people think you are, but there’s nothing illegal about what might or might not be the nature of my relationship with my client. Lawyers represent love ones all the time. As long as the judge is aware—“
“Is the judge aware of this?” Floyd asked, holding up a picture of Eden and I kissing in Dad’s workshop the day before. My heart sank even as anger burned bright enough that I was actually seeing flames around the edges of the photograph.
“I will not justify myself to you slimy assholes. Do you realize you’re the kind of lawyers who give the rest of us a bad name?”
He tapped the envelope again. “And what will you do when we send these pictures to your mother?”
And there it was. My Achilles’ heel.
I felt physically sick as I imagined my mother going through the morning mail and finding herself staring at that. I could actually see my hand under Eden’s top despite the odd angle of the photograph. She looked…Damn, she was beautiful! Even then, I wanted to grab those photographs and keep them hidden away in a box where I could look at them from time to time, remind myself that she really did want me, that she really was mine.
It was a demanding thought that refused to be ignored. I loved her. I loved Eden and I wanted to be with her. Right at that moment, I really didn’t care what anyone else thought. I just…I couldn’t have my mother find out that way.
“What do you want?”
“We want you off the case.”
I shook my head. “No. I won’t let her go to trial with some hick lawyer who isn’t prepared to defend her properly.”
Floyd slid the photograph back into the envelope and stood. “Then we’re done here.”
“Come on,” I pleaded, stepping into his path so that he couldn’t leave the room. “I know there’s a way. With someone as low as Commissioner Johnston, I’m sure there’s another way.”
Floyd’s eyes narrowed. “Insulting my clients—“
“Come off it, Floyd.” I stepped closer to him, so close that we’d be kissing if either of us moved just a hair in one direction or the other. “How much is it going to take?”
He stared at me for so long that I was beginning to think that maybe I was wrong, maybe they weren’t looking for money. Maybe they really did want to put Eden in jail for something they all knew s
he didn’t do. What was it? Had they gone too far with the cover up this time? Did they have to follow through to make sure no one caught on to what they’d been doing? Or was it something else? Was it something about Eden, something about Dad?
“Five hundred thousand.”
And then I knew. Joel wasn’t the only one with a father who was willing to do whatever it took for his child. Anyone with any knowledge of the modern art world knew who Alistair O’Reilly was. Anyone who’d been to Houston had seen his sculpture outside of massive office buildings, had seen the evidence of his talents. And a quick background check would’ve shown that he may live modestly, but he was worth a substantial amount of money.
And someone, obviously, had done that check.
“Five hundred thousand dollars.” I looked from Floyd to Turgess to Rodriquez back to Floyd. “And the criminal charges?”
“Our client’s father has some pull with the prosecutor’s office. Once we receive a check, he could probably do you a favor.”
I nodded, nausea roiling through my stomach as I struggled not to lose complete control. Crooked lawyers pissed me off. But this was beyond crooked. They were attacking my family. The woman who raised me despite all the violence going on in her life. The man who taught me what it means to be a man. And the woman I love.
Sometimes you have to make a hard choice between what’s ethically right and what’s morally right.
“I’ll have a check on your desk Monday morning.”
Twenty-Four
Eden
I really needed to get a new car. That was, of course, if I stayed out of jail. Walking everywhere was beginning to get on my nerves. But it was building the muscles in my legs and that wasn’t such a bad thing, I suppose. Crawford seemed to like the shape of my body.
And that thought made me blush. You’d think the fact that I was a twenty-five-year-old woman, I’d be a little more experienced in those things, that I wouldn’t act like a teenager. But I felt like a teenager. Crawford made me feel years younger when he looked at me the way he did. And when he touched me…well, I didn’t feel like a teenager then. I felt like a woman who had finally found the man she was always meant to be with. I found my soul mate.
And wasn’t that cheesy?
I walked toward our parent’s place slowly, letting my thoughts wander as they had been all day. I hated not having a job to go to. I usually volunteered at the library during the summer, but I didn’t bother to ask that year. After I was let go early from my job at the high school, I pretty much figured the head librarian wouldn’t want me around. I mean, she’s a nice lady and she might have let me work if I’d asked. But just asking would have put her in a bad position. I didn’t want that.
Sometimes living in a small town had its downsides.
“Need a ride?”
My heart jumped at the sound of Crawford’s voice. I turned, unable to control the smile that had a life of its own. He leaned over and opened the passenger side door of his rental SUV, an equally pleased smile on his own full lips. I climbed in and pulled the door closed, leaning over to offer a peck on his cheek. I figured just a peck…but then he moved and our lips met and it was like the world just melted away for a few seconds.
“Hi,” he whispered against my mouth.
“Hi. What are you doing out here?”
“Headed over to have dinner with the folks. I stopped by your place, but you were already gone.”
“Yeah, walking takes a little while, even here.”
“You should just get a new car. I’ll take care of it if you need me to.”
“I’ve been kind of waiting to see what happens with all my legal problems.”
He ran his fingers over the side of my face, pushing his fingertips into my long tresses for a second. “I told you, you’re going to be fine. You don’t have to wait to make future plans.”
“I trust you. But even you can’t know for sure what’s going to happen.”
“I would never let anything bad happen to you, Eden. It doesn’t matter what I have to do. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”
There was such sincerity in his eyes, in his voice, that I couldn’t help but believe him. I kissed him again, my lower belly doing some sort of dance. I loved the taste of him, the way he always opened to me the moment our lips touched. It was as if he was eager to do just about anything I wanted to do. Just the hint of my touch seemed to excite him almost as much as his touch excited me.
But then a truck honked as it moved around us on the street, and we both came back to ourselves, suddenly aware of how exposed we were. He kissed me one last time, put the car into gear and drove the half mile more to our parent’s house.
Mom made pot roast—the best pot roast in the south. Her gravy was a tightly-held secret, but she promised to give it to me one day. The thought frightened me, because I wasn’t that great of a cook. I’d find some way to mess it up. But when she made it…heaven couldn’t possibly be as good as that gravy.
We sat around the dining room table, the four of us stuffed to the gills and enjoying the sherry my Dad liked to serve at the end of every meal. He’d done it since I was a little girl. I usually got grape juice instead, but he began giving me sherry too when I started high school. I can’t say it was one of my favorite drinks, but there’s something about the forbidden aspect of it that still thrilled me every time I had a taste.
“Your assistant, Kendra,” Mom mentioned when a silence fell in the room. “She’s a nice girl.”
Crawford looked up, a weary look to his eyes. “She’s a good worker.”
“Did I hear her tell Winnie that she has family in the area?”
“You might have. That’s part of the reason she was willing to make this trip with me.”
Mom studied him for a minute. “Is she staying with her family? Or…”
“Vera,” my Dad interrupted, shooting her a warning glance.
“What? He’s my son. Aren’t I allowed to ask who he might be seeing?” She turned back to Crawford with a pointed expression. “I’m getting kind of old. I’d like to have grandchildren before I’m too feeble to enjoy them.”
Crawford coughed as his cheeks flooded with color. I laughed. I couldn’t quite help myself. I mean, it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard it all before. Mom mentioned grandkids almost on a weekly basis, usually while complaining to Dad about Crawford’s lack of communication with the family. She even made a few not-so-subtle suggestions to me about finding a man to father my children. It was nice to see Crawford actually on the hot seat for once.
“I haven’t even thought about it,” Crawford finally choked out.
“What?” Mom asked.
“Whether I want children or not.”
“Everyone wants children,” Mom scoffed as Dad once again shot her one of those looks.
“Not everyone, Mother. This is, after all, the new millennium.”
“You don’t want children?” I probed.
Crawford glanced at me, and there was something in his expression, a desperation that disappeared the moment our eyes met. And then he winked.
“You’re going to have children,” Mom barked. “I raised you to be a good Catholic boy. You will behave like a good Catholic boy once you settle down and stop sowing your wild oats.”
“Will I? I’m glad you’re confident.”
“And that Kendra girl…she’s quite beautiful.”
“She is,” I agreed.
“Kendra is a great employee, but girls like her are a dime a dozen in New York.” Crawford reached under the table and took my hand in his where our parents couldn’t see. “I took a girl whose picture was on the front cover of Sports Illustrated to a charity dinner just last month.”
“Oh? Which one?” Dad asked.
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh again or slap both of them.
Crawford started to drop the name, but Mom suddenly interrupted, something she rarely does. “There’s a rumor going around town about you.”
Crawford gl
anced at her even as he tugged my hand onto his thigh. He slid his other hand over the both of ours, his fingertips playing with the back of my hand. “I’ve been gone nine years. I’m sure most of the people in town have forgotten who I am.”
“No one has forgotten you. In fact, they’ve been talking pretty steadily about you since you came back to town.”
“Oh?”
Crawford’s fingers kept working over my hand, his eyes dropping to his lap with such an obvious move that I was afraid the parents would figure out what he was doing. But a part of me still didn’t want him to stop.
“At first, they were just talking about how nice it was of you to come home and save your sister from her problems.”
“It is a wonderful thing,” my Dad bellowed, pride dripping from his words.
“Yes,” Mom agreed. She looked from Crawford to me, her eyes lingering on me for reasons I couldn’t begin to guess. She seemed worried. I knew that expression, I’d seen it often enough when I was a teen. She thought she knew something about me that she wasn’t sure my Dad should know.
Ice begin to form along the curves of my spine.
“But now,” Mom said slowly, her eyes still lingering on mine, “they’re wondering why you’re spending so much time at Eden’s apartment.”
Crawford looked up even as my Dad grumbled. “Damn gossips. Don’t they realize how long it takes to prepare for a legal case?”
“Well, I don’t think they understand why preparation for a legal case has to happen in the middle of the night.”
I tried to pull away from Crawford, tried to free my hand. I’m not sure why. Where was I going to go? What was I going to do? Was I planning to deny what she was implying? Or was I going to jump to my feet and confess to everything? I wasn’t sure. But Crawford didn’t give me a chance to do anything.
“Who did you hear that from?” my Dad asked.
Mom didn’t answer. She was still staring at me. A whole host of emotions were rushing over her face. But when her eyes shifted to Crawford, she seemed to see something there that made her accept what was probably written all over my face.
