by J. J. Murray
“I know that, man,” Jade said. “I was bored as shit at that halfway house. All they do is watch stupid Lifetime movies on the TV.”
Which is what I should have been doing tonight. “What is my client facing?”
“For the parole violation, she has to finish the last three years of her original sentence,” Zelinski said. “Up to five more for everything else.”
Holy shit! She’d get out in eight years. “What if my client were to change her plea?”
“I ain’t changing my plea, Matt,” Jade said.
Matthew sighed. “May I confer again with my client?”
The judge sighed. “Go ahead. We’ve got nothing better to do at this time of night.”
Matthew stood in front of Jade, whispering, “I don’t do criminal law.”
Jade smiled. “There you go whispering again. It’s kind of sexy.”
“Jade,” Matthew whispered, “I do wills and probate and simple divorces and look over contracts now. I used to sue people for a living. This isn’t like any of that. I am out of my depth here.”
“You doin’ all right, Brooklyn,” Jade said. “You sure sound like a lawyer.” She stepped closer. “But I hope you’re not saying you can’t help me. I’m looking at eight years, man.”
“If you plead guilty to something,” Matthew said, “maybe it won’t be so bad.”
Jade shook her head. “That ho came at me, and that police officer grabbed my ass!”
So much for a quiet conference. Here goes nothing. Matthew turned to the judge. “Your honor, I was at the party where the alleged assault took place, and I can assure you that my client acted in self-defense.”
“This is an arraignment, not a trial, counselor,” the judge said.
“I know that, your honor, and I understand why she’s not getting bail.” He turned to Zelinski. “Can’t we work something out?”
Zelinski shook his head. “She knocked out the victim with one punch.”
Matthew looked at Jade. “Only one punch?”
Jade smiled. “Yeah. Right cross. Got her on the jaw.”
Impressive. “The woman she knocked out started the altercation inside the house. I witnessed the other woman trying to break down a door to get at my client.” While I had my pants down around my ankles and my fingers fumbled with a condom. “I can also attest to the fact that a great deal of marijuana was being smoked in the house at the time. At no time did I see my client smoking marijuana, and we were in close vicinity for the entire evening.” With at least one of my hands in her back pockets. “As for the alleged assault on a police officer, my client only struck the officer when the officer grabbed her forcefully, as she said, by the buttocks. I’m sure several hundred people saw the officer do that, many of whom may have filmed the assault with their cell phones.” He turned to Jade. “Plead guilty to disorderly conduct. It’s only a misdemeanor, right?”
“This ain’t right,” Jade said.
“Jade,” Matthew said. “Give a little to get a little.”
“All right,” Jade said with a sigh. “Yeah, I violated my parole, and I was disorderly along with about two hundred other people who I don’t see in this courtroom.”
Zelinski narrowed his eyes. “You’ll plead guilty to disorderly conduct.”
“Yeah,” Jade said.
The judge stood and stretched. “This is not the time to make deals, Mr. Zelinski. We should be talking about bail or no bail and that’s it.”
“I know, I know,” Zelinski said, “but I’m going to the Bahamas with my wife, and I have to clear as much of my calendar as I can.” He nodded at Jade. “Miss Jones, you broke the officer’s nose. I can’t drop that charge. That’s got to go to trial.”
“What if I can find a hundred people who saw the officer grab her buttocks?” Matthew asked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire incident wasn’t running on YouTube right now.”
“I’m sure I have bruises on my ass,” Jade said. “We could take a look.”
Zelinski waved his hands. “That won’t be necessary.”
The judge unzipped his robe. “Do you need me anymore?”
“No,” Zelinski said. “Sorry.”
“Have a good time in the Bahamas.” The judge left the courtroom.
Zelinski wiggled his lips. “All right, three years for the parole violation, two hundred fifty dollar fine for the disorderly conduct.”
Matthew smiled at Jade. “That’s a deal, Jade.”
“Man . . .” Jade shook her head.
“It sounds like the best deal you’re going to get,” Matthew said. “Take it.”
“Okay, okay,” Jade said. “I’ll take the deal.”
An officer came to collect Jade.
“Thanks for saving me five years of my life, man,” Jade said. “You gonna come visit me?”
That would be a no. “I have no real reason to, Jade.”
“Well, shit,” Jade said, “at least write to me or accept the charges when I call, all right?”
Matthew looked into her fierce brown eyes. “I might.”
Jade kissed his cheek. “Sorry we didn’t get to finish,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
Jade laughed. “You got your adventure, though, right? See you around, Brooklyn.”
“See you around, Jade,” Matthew said. In around three years.
As Matthew rode the J train to Marcy Avenue, he did some soul-searching. I’m sure there are some wonderful women in Queens, and I’m sure Jade has some redeeming qualities under all those tattoos, but I am staying away from Queens from now on. I should have faded away from her as soon as she said the word “assault.” I’m too curious sometimes. I also need to stop drinking whatever anyone hands to me.
Unless it’s coffee, and the server is Angela.
He smiled.
What time is it? A little after two. She won’t be open for another four hours. I can’t show up smelling like this. He shook his head. I’m going home from a date from hell to get spiffy for coffee and some pastries.
My life is so backward.
He closed his eyes.
He could almost smell the coffee.
And he could definitely see Angela’s smile.
Chapter 5
Showered, shaved, and wearing clean jeans and his bomber jacket over an NYU sweatshirt, Matthew stood outside Smith’s Sweet Treats and Coffee waiting for it to open. He could already smell coffee brewing and pastries baking. As Angela rounded the counter and came to the door, Matthew waved.
Angela smiled.
That’s why I came. I came for that smile.
Angela undid a series of locks and opened the door. “This is getting to be a habit, Matthew.”
Matthew stepped inside. “I was just passing by.”
Angela closed the door behind her. “At six on a Sunday morning.”
Matthew followed her to the counter. “I’m a morning person.”
“Or you were out all night again.” She poured him a tall cup of coffee. “I already have the house blend ready. No cream or sugar, right?”
Matt nodded, took the cup, and sipped. “Yes. Thank you. I am alive again.”
“Right.” She sniffed the air. “You smell ganja?”
Damn. Why’d I wear this jacket? “Yeah, it must be my jacket. It was a crazy night.”
“I’ll bet.” She sighed. “So did you or your jacket get high?”
A little of both, actually. “I was at a house party,” Matthew said, removing the jacket and throwing it into the middle booth. “I did not partake, but my clothes got wasted.”
“That wild, huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe how wild.”
Angela shrugged. “Try me. You got ten minutes until your breakfast is ready. Peach and strawberry pastries today. I’ll bring you one of each.”
“Sounds good.” He took a long swig of coffee. “I am already addicted to this coffee.”
“Good.” She disappeared into the back.
Matthew sat
in the middle booth, pushing his jacket against the wall and watching the sunlight intensify. Peaceful. This place is peaceful. It doesn’t make sense. I’m sucking down caffeine and feeling peaceful. I wonder if Angela has Wi-Fi. I could come here every morning, “borrow” her Internet—
“So about last night . . .” Angela stood beside him, holding out a plate of peach and strawberry pastries.
She moves stealthily in those black walking shoes, and there are at least six pastries on that plate. “Will you join me?”
“For a few minutes I can,” she said, sliding onto the bench seat opposite him. “The church crowd won’t be here for at least half an hour.” She folded her hands in front of her. “So tell me why your jacket got high last night.”
“I went to a protest that turned into a block party that turned into a house party in Queens.”
Angela blinked and shook her head. “Why’d you go to a house party all the way over in Queens?”
“I needed an adventure.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Angela said. “I meant, why’d you go out to Queens for adventure? What’s wrong with finding adventure in Williamsburg?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to get away, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” Angela said. “I’m kind of glued to this place. I’m open seven days a week.”
“Oh, right.” No days off? That’s a raunchy deal. “Don’t you ever get sick of where you are sometimes and have to go somewhere else to realize that where you’re from isn’t all that bad?”
“I know what you’re saying.” She pointed at the pastries. “They’re getting cold.”
“Oh.” He sampled one of the peach pastries. “Delicious.”
“Thank you.”
Her hands never stay still. Is she nervous? “Trust me, Angela, I like Williamsburg a whole lot better than I will ever like Queens. I don’t think I’ll be going back anytime soon.”
“What happened?” she asked.
She seems genuinely interested. Something about her eyes. Great eye contact. They’re hard to look away from. “Well, I met a woman who later fought with another woman who was her ex from prison, and I spent the night in Queens criminal court trying to get the first woman’s charges reduced.”
Angela’s eyes popped. “You’re a lawyer?”
Why doesn’t anyone believe I’m a lawyer? “Sometimes.”
“You don’t look like one.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Matthew said.
She looked around the back of the booth at the front door. “Not that I know what a lawyer is supposed to look like.” She faced him again. “Go on with your story. Did you get her charges reduced?”
“Miraculously, I did,” Matthew said. “She still has to go back to prison for three years for violating her parole, but I got the assault charge dropped because of self-defense and the assault on a police officer dropped completely.”
“Your date assaulted a cop?” Angela asked.
“Well, she wasn’t exactly my date,” he said. “We met at the party.”
“Oh.” Angela narrowed her eyes. “So you hooked up with her at this party.”
Well, we almost did. Too much bass in the bathroom. “We hung out.”
“Uh huh.” She sipped her coffee. “And this hookup assaulted a cop.”
Angela certainly gets to the point. “We didn’t hook up. She broke the cop’s nose when he grabbed her, um, her buttocks.”
Angela shook her head slightly. “He grabbed her ass, and she broke his nose, and because of that, you didn’t hook up.”
When you put it that way . . . “Yes.”
“How big was this woman who was not exactly your date or your hookup?” Angela asked.
Matthew let his eyes move around Angela’s upper body. “About your size. She didn’t have your smile, though.”
Angela looked away.
Matthew heard the soft tapping of shoes on linoleum.
I must make her nervous. When’s the last time I made any woman nervous?
“Was she pretty?” Angela asked, her eyes on her hands.
“In a way,” Matthew said. “Good smile, nice eyes. She had lots of tattoos, most of them prison tats. She knocked out the other woman, too. Great right cross.”
Angela looked up briefly. “You met this fighter at a party and you later represented her in court.”
“Right.”
“Are all your clients like her?” Angela asked.
“She became my client after she was arrested, and I rarely meet any of my clients face-to-face. I’m a strictly an Internet-based lawyer now. Simple wills, divorces, estate planning, contracts, that sort of thing.”
“No wonder you have such odd hours,” Angela said.
“True, but every hour is my own.”
“Same here.” She pulled her hands from the table. “So you met this woman at a protest-slash-house party in Queens.”
Matthew nodded.
“Were you . . . with her?” Angela asked.
Strange question. “What do you mean by with?”
“I mean . . .” She sighed. “You just met her, right? You had never seen her before, right?”
Matthew nodded.
“Were you . . . holding hands, talking, dancing, what? That’s what I meant by with.”
“Oh.” Why is this so important to her? “We danced some, yes.” I’ll skip the bathroom scene. “Until she got in a fight and the cops took her away. Jade rejoined me in the courtroom.”
Angela’s feet stopped running. “Jade? Was she Asian?”
“No, she was black,” Matthew said. “More of a brown actually. I wouldn’t call her caramel.” He smiled. “She wasn’t that sweet.”
Angela blinked. “Really. She was . . . African American.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t seem like the type,” Angela said.
She’s running again. “The type?”
“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the type to date black women.”
Matthew sat back. “And what is the type of man who dates black women?”
Angela shrugged and said nothing for a few moments. “I mean, you’re . . .” Her eyes flitted to his. “You’re a . . . you’re a nice-looking white man.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said. She thinks I’m nice-looking. Cool. “Angela, is it a good thing or a bad thing that I find women of color attractive?”
Angela shrugged. “It’s just an observation.” She pressed her lips together and squinted. “So have you always been interested in black women?”
“I’m attracted to color in all shades,” Matthew said. “My latest girlfriend, Joy, was Honduran, the other night I went out with a woman from Trinidad, and last night, I went to a party with a black woman from Queens.”
“You lead a colorful life, Matthew,” Angela said.
“I guess I do.”
She looked around the booth again. “You see that mess across the street?”
“Yes.”
“Can I sue a business for trying to put me out of business?” She slid out of the booth and stood.
“You want to sue La Estrella,” Matthew said.
“I know I don’t have a case,” she said, pulling at her fingers. “Free enterprise and capitalism and all that, right?”
“Those coffee shops are sprouting up everywhere, aren’t they?” Matthew asked.
“They’re not shops,” Angela said, “they’re vultures.”
“Like lawyers?” Matthew smiled.
“Like most lawyers,” Angela said.
Matthew picked up another peach pastry. “Am I in the vulture category?”
“I’ll let you know.” She looked from the door to the counter. “I should be getting ready for the church rush. They gotta have their caffeine before the sermon, right?”
Matthew followed her out of the booth and took his cup to the counter. “I’ll join you this time, then.”
Angela nodded. “Okay.”
“Are
you really worried about La Estrella?” Matthew asked.
“Yes,” Angela said. “I have to be.”
“Angela, I’ve lived in Billyburg all my life,” Matthew said, “and I’ve never seen a chain store of any kind really make it. The closest surviving Starbucks is in North Greenpoint, and you have to walk more than a mile to Broadway to get to the nearest Burger King. You’re in the middle of a city where chains move in and die swift deaths. I think you’ll be fine. I hear La Estrella charges too much for everything anyway.”
Angela rearranged several pastries on a tray under the glass. “That’s what I’m counting on. The only thing they do differently is put a little napkin on the cup.” She smiled. “I tried to do that here once with the napkins I use. I never could get the hang of it. The napkin kept falling off the cup.” She leaned forward on the counter. “I don’t like wasting napkins.”
“Are you a Williamsburg native?” Matthew asked.
“Yes.”
“I thought so,” Matthew said. “Where’d you go to school?”
“Van Arsdale,” she groaned. “What about you?”
“Most Holy Trinity.”
Angela sighed. “You look like a Catholic school boy.”
Should I take that as a compliment? “Most Moldy had its moments,” Matthew said.
Angela took a towel and wiped the already shiny counter. “But you’re a lawyer and you’re still here in Williamsburg? Why aren’t you over in Manhattan where the money is?”
Been there, done that, hated it. “I love this place.” He took a sip. “I love your place, too. It’s always open when I need it to be.”
“How long were you waiting outside?” Angela asked.
“Oh, not long,” Matthew said. “Maybe ten minutes.”
Angela smiled. “I’ll try to open earlier on Sundays.”
“I can wait until six.”
He returned to the booth, ate the last peach pastry in two bites, and carried his plate of three strawberry pastries to the counter. “These are fantastic, Angela. And the coffee is delicious, as usual.”
“You’ve only been here twice,” she said.
“And everything was twice as good,” Matthew said. “Thanks for the conversation, too.”
Angela untied and tied her apron. “Don’t your ‘not exactly dates’ talk to you?”
