by Lane Hart
"What do you think?" Jax asks when he comes up to the balcony ledge beside me. The sun's starting to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange, pink and purple.
"It's beautiful," I tell him.
"It is," he agrees as he turns to face me, "But after three years it's never really felt like home, until now."
His sweet and sincere words tighten my throat.
"Why don't you show me your bedroom so I can start plotting how to take over all the closet space?" I say with a smile.
"You can have it all, princess," he says before capturing my lips with his.
…
The summer is flying by, and it's hard to believe it's already the Fourth of July. Maybe it just seems to be passing quickly because I'm counting down what might be Jax's last few days of freedom. We've spent almost every second together during the days and nights. Trial preparations are all but wrapped up. We have a strong case but...I just don’t know if it's strong enough to win because of those damn pictures.
"Page, did you get a chance to talk to Coach Briggs the other day in your office?" Jax asks, interrupting my incessant worry. "He grew up around here with your dad."
"Not really," I say, holding out my hand out to the very large man with a round belly.
"Thanks for all your help with Jax's case, Page," Coach Briggs says with a smile. "And thanks for coming."
"Thanks for the invitation."
Jax explained that every year all the gym guys get together for a July Fourth cookout at the coach's house since he has a huge in-ground pool in his backyard. Apparently being an MMA coach/manager pays really well. Or maybe it pays well because he has Jax fighting on his team.
"Page, this is my daughter, Sadie," the man says, referring to the small girl beside him. Underneath the dark makeup and goth-ish baggy clothes, you can tell she's a very pretty girl, and she seems to be entranced by the mostly naked buff men running around her backyard. She stands beside us in awe, twirling one of her long brown braids.
I feel her pain since I'm the only other female having the pleasure of viewing this overload of hotness.
There's a ton of ripped men with more guns than a military base. These aren't just alpha males, these are the alphas that can beat the shit out of most other alphas. I follow her line of sight and, oh yes, out of all the available eye-candy she's staring at the very sleek and sexy Jude Malone.
"So, Sadie, how old are you?" I ask when the two men are distracted talking about tonight's pay-per-view title fight or whatnot.
Her green eyes, hidden behind thick glasses, finally blink over at me. "Huh?" she asks.
"Hi, I'm Page, Jax's girl...attorney," I try to quickly catch the slip.
"His girl attorney? Does he have a boy attorney, too?" She laughs. "Don't worry, I get it." She’s a smart and very perceptive girl.
"So how old are you?" I ask.
"Sixteen."
"Ah. Then, unfortunately, you’re a little on the young side for him."
"What? For who?" she asks.
"Hey, Jude," I yell in greeting, effectively setting off a horrible rendition of The Beatles' song by several deep, off-key voices. After splashing the guys and then flipping them off with both hands, Jude looks over and smiles. The girl beside me gasps at the six feet of gorgeousness headed our way.
"Page!" he says with his dripping wet approach. "How many times have I told you, 'Hi, Jude' is an acceptable greeting, and so is 'Sup, Jude,' or 'Hey, Jackass.' Anything but 'Hey, Jude.'"
"Sorry." I laugh. "Lesson learned. I wouldn't want to hear that God-awful singing, either."
"How's it going, Jude?" I'm surprised when the girl beside me bravely speaks up.
Jude shivers and looks around for a towel, grabbing one from a nearby lounge chair to use to dry off. "Hey, Sadie," Jude responds, barely acknowledging the doe-eyed teenager. "So, Page, you all set for trial?"
"As ready as we can be," I reply. I hate seeing the worry and fear that clouds his normally upbeat expression. "You ready to testify?"
"Oh yeah," he says with a smile.
"Try and keep the sex sounds as tasteful as possible," I remind him.
"Hey, I'm going to answer accurately and honestly, so if the judge doesn't like it, he can kiss my ass."
I sigh and shake my head when my eyes go back to Jax and his coach, still deep in discussion. "So who's fighting tonight?" I ask Jude.
"Mike Jacobs is the idiot who agreed to take on Linc Abrams this year," Sadie says right away. "Linc's the current world welterweight champion, and he defends his title every July Fourth. He's won by first round knockouts the last three years in a row."
Jude looks over at the girl in surprise like she’d just magically appeared.
"Linc?" I ask. "That's an unusual name. It sounds like he's really good."
"Yeah, and he's really hot," Sadie replies, to which Jude scoffs.
"All the more reason to watch tonight." I laugh. "Aren't you a welterweight too, Jude?"
"Uh-huh."
"He's ranked fifth in the country," Sadie speaks up for him.
"Really, Jude?" I ask, and he nods. "That's awesome!" I exclaim, but he just shrugs modestly.
"Does Jude have a nickname?" I ask Sadie, figuring she'll know.
"Yeah, um, The Matrix because of how fast he moves ducking and dodging opponents' swings and kicks," she says. The girl is like a walking, talking MMA encyclopedia.
"And because of how fast he dodges women," Jax adds when he joins our conversation, slipping an arm around me, to which I side-step. Even if everyone here probably knows we're together, we can't risk it in public
"Too bad you didn't learn that skill, bro," Jude counters.
"If I hadn't been a player, then I wouldn't have gotten charged, and then I never would've met my incredibly beautiful and smart attorney that's going to keep me out of prison."
"I really hope you're right," Jude says sadly.
The pressure on my shoulders is almost too much to take. I'd been meeting with Ryan, our state court criminal defense attorney, several times a week since he's still too swamped to second chair Jax's case. He thinks we're ready, but I'd feel better if he was there in the courtroom with us, making sure I don't screw up.
Chapter Fourteen
Page
Each day is more stressful than the last as we get closer to the trial date. Jax is sleeping less and less each night, and I would know because I'm usually awake beside him in his bed. Whenever he realizes I'm not able to sleep either he makes love to me, both of us losing ourselves in each other to try and fight off the worry.
The night before the first day of trial I barely slept more than an hour or two in the hotel bed. I was ready to get it over, but in a way, I just wanted to hide out in our room instead of go to the courthouse.
It takes hours to pick a jury since everyone had seen or read something about Jax's case due to all the media coverage. At last, we agreed on a dozen jurors, and much to my satisfaction, seven were female. I knew Jax could persuade them to his side.
The men weren't too bad either. Two were young, in their twenties, which I thought would work in our favor since they would be able to put themselves in Jax's shoes. Another man was in his thirties and seemed to be a conservative accountant. One was a father who had me the most worried, and the last one was a retired gentleman. I had no idea which way he'd go.
The first witness for the State, Detective Shaw, was the officer that initially interviewed the bitch when she went to file the report late the next day…plenty of time to manufacture the bruises on her neck. I didn't have many questions for him since he was only reporting what she told him.
Next up, we finally got to hear from the alleged victim. I hate to admit that she's really pretty, wearing a white suit with her dark hair swept back in a chignon like mine. The prosecutor went through his many questions with her on his direct while I took notes, preparing for what to hit her with on my cross-examination. After a quick recess, it was my turn to question her.
<
br /> "Give her hell," Jax whispers against my ear, making me smile.
Judge Bray comes back in and calls court back to order, then the bitch went back up to the witness stand.
"Ms. Davenport, your witness," the judge says to me. Getting to my feet, I start toward the lying whore with a stack of our exhibits.
"Ms. Loftis, I'd like to ask you to identify what has been marked as Defense Exhibit One. Your Honor, may I approach the witness?" I remember to ask, making me feel like I'm in a game of Mother May I.
"Yes, you may," Judge Bray replies.
I proceed to the witness box and hand her the first document. "Please identify that document for the jurors."
"Um, it looks like a phone bill," she says. Her amber eyes slightly narrow at me, and her lips are pursed tightly together like she's just waiting for me to give her a hard time.
"So it's a record of phone calls?"
"Yes."
"This is Mr. Malone's phone record for the night of May twenty-fourth. Do you recognize your phone number in the call log?"
"Yes," she answers after a second.
"Tell the jurors about those entries that contain your phone number."
"The first one was a missed call at nine-forty-three p.m. and the second was an outgoing call at eleven oh-one p.m. that lasted ninety-eight seconds."
"So based on your recollection and this document, is it correct to say that you initially called Mr. Malone and that he was simply returning your call?"
"Yes, I believe so."
"And do you remember leaving Mr. Malone a voicemail?"
"Yes."
"Your honor I'd like to play Defense Exhibit Two, an audio recording, and ask the witness to identify it as her voicemail to the defendant on May twenty-fourth." I hate calling Jax a defendant.
"Any objection from the State?" the judge asks. When the prosecutor didn't object, Judge Bray lets me play the disc that contains the recording over the courtroom sound system.
"Hey, sexy, it's Christina. I just saw you on TV at your brother's fight, so I know you're in town. Give me a call if you want a replay of last time."
"Was that your voice Ms. Loftis?" I ask when the recording of her voice stops.
"Yes."
"And when you said 'a replay of last time' you were offering to let Mr. Malone have sex with you?"
"I just meant that I wanted to hang out with him while he was in town again."
Riiight.
"And what did happen when he was in town previously?"
"We started talking after one of his fights, and he asked if I wanted to go back to his room-"
"He asked you, or did you ask him if you could go back to his room with him?" I interrupt to set her straight.
"Oh, um, I'm not sure."
Lying bitch.
"What happened after you arrived in Mr. Malone's room that first night?"
"He slammed me against the wall and um, had sex with me," she responds, trying to sound like a delicate little flower.
"Was that before or after you performed oral sex on him?"
Her mouth opens then closes. "After."
"Right, and did he initiate the oral sex or did you?"
"I don't remember."
Lie, lie, lie.
"If I told you that Mr. Malone says that you were on your knees before the hotel door closed, and you were the one that unzipped his pants without his prompting, would that be accurate?"
"Objection," the prosecutor jumps in.
"Overruled. You may answer Ms. Loftis," the judge gives her the go ahead.
"It was so long ago I'm not one hundred percent sure."
"But you do admit to performing oral sex on him on that occasion?"
"Yes."
"And then you had sex with him?"
"Yes, twice that night."
"And all of that occurred with your consent?"
"Yes."
"Okay, going back to the night of the alleged incident, had you been drinking before you arrived at Mr. Malone's room on the night of May twenty-fourth?"
"I think I may have had one drink at the bar downstairs."
"Just one?" I ask.
"Maybe two at the most."
After playing Mother, May I again with the judge, I take a receipt up to show her. "Does this look like your receipt from a bar at the Taj Mahal on May twenty-fourth?"
"Yes."
"And that's your signature from paying with your personal credit card?"
"Yes."
"And how many drinks are listed on there?"
"Five, but I was with friends," she says quickly.
Bullshit.
"So what happened when you arrived in Mr. Malone's room?"
"He attacked me."
"Describe in detail how he 'attacked you.'"
"He just came at me and then threw me on the bed. I tried to get him to slow down and he wouldn't. He held me down with his hand around my neck and told me to…perform oral sex on him."
"Did you physically protest?"
"I tried, but he wouldn't stop."
"So let me make sure I understand your answer. You're saying that Mr. Malone's delicate and sensitive penis was in your mouth full of teeth, and you decided not to do anything but suck on it?"
There're snickers from the gallery, and I'm almost sure one of them is Jude's.
"I was afraid he'd hurt me if I…tried to hurt him."
"Okay, then what happened?"
"Then he...forced his penis into me. He kept choking me until he finished inside me."
"What did it feel like when he was choking you?"
"It hurt."
"Could you explain to the jury in detail what it feels like to have someone's strong hands around your neck?"
Hell, I can do that better than her.
"I-I couldn't breathe."
"And is it true that you weren't wearing any panties when you arrived at Mr. Malone's room?"
"I, uh, I don’t remember. I may not have."
"Why would a woman not wear panties to a man's hotel room unless she's going to have sex with him?"
"Yes, I wanted to have sex with him, but I didn't want him to hurt me," she finally admits. I try not to visibly celebrate that small but very important victory.
I go through a few other questions to which she gives bullshit answers, and then I start asking her to identify the pictures of Jax from her Facebook page. I put those mouthwatering bad boys on the overhead projector so that there's an entire wall showing the sexiest man alive in little to no clothing.
"Is this your Facebook account?" I ask.
"Yes."
"And did you post this picture on May twentieth of Mr. Malone?"
"Yes."
"And could you read the comment you posted."
"Even yummier in person and tastes divine."
We went through several other photos with similar comments.
"So, Ms. Loftis, would you admit that you were a pretty big fan of Mr. Malone's?"
"Yes, before he attacked me."
"And did you get upset when Mr. Malone ignored your texts and calls after the first occasion you had intercourse?" She had already identified the call log of the six different times she'd called him and he didn't answer. And I'd happily put her five desperate text messages on the overhead. The ones asking Jax variations of what he was doing and when he was coming back to Atlantic City.
"No."
"No? You weren't upset that a man had slept with you and then wouldn't talk to you?"
"No."
"So all this, your false accusations of rape, aren't the result of being a woman scorned?"
"Objection," the prosecutor said.
"Sustained," Judge Bray says, preventing her from being able to answer, which is fine since it was the question that was important.
Here goes the fireworks finale that will probably land me in hot water with the judge, but the benefits of the jury hearing it would be worth it.
"Ms. Loftis, would it come as a shock for yo
u to hear that Mr. Malone passed a polygraph on all of your false accusations?"
"Objection!" the District Attorney stands up and yells. "Your Honor, the State moves to have defense counsel's last question stricken from the record."
"Sustained, and motion granted. This is a warning to be careful, Ms. Davenport. Court reporter, please strike the last question from the record. Jurors, please disregard the last question and do not consider it during your deliberations. Ms. Davenport, you may continue, and I advise you do to so cautiously."
"No further questions, your Honor," I respond, swiftly heading back to my seat. I hope I made my point. Since I can't offer the polygraph into evidence, I've put the jurors on notice that he took one and passed.
Jax has a slight smirk on his lips, and I know he's trying hard to conceal his expression.
"Next up is the doctor and then the nurse that examined her," I whisper to him.
Unfortunately, the doctor's testimony doesn't go so well for us. He said it was possible that Ms. Loftis's injuries wouldn't show up immediately, which screws us on the video and eyewitness saying she didn't have any marks on her neck when she left that night. I knew from experience the doctor was full of shit, but I couldn't very well explain how I knew.
On the second day of trial the DNA expert testified that the DNA was a ninety-nine percent match to the mouth swab sample collected from Jax, which sucked, and we couldn't come up with an explanation for that except that she must have taken his condom. That's just too gross to believe. After that, the State rested their case, and it was our turn to put on evidence.
I still called the valet and the hotel security guard to identify the video and show the bitch's clear neck. Then I called Jude to the witness stand and asked what he heard through the hotel wall. There were snickers again after his imitation.
Lastly, I called Jax and let him go through his whole story, contradicting hers wherever we could with the evidence again. He did great and kept his cool even during the prosecutor's cross-examination.
Even though everything had gone as well as I'd hoped, including my closing argument, I was still freaking out. I just don't know if the jurors will believe the lying bitch or Jax. That night while we waited hours for the jury to deliberate, I barely resisted the urge to throw myself into Jax's arms for comfort. I could tell he was nervous, but trying to hide it from me and everyone else. He barely spoke, and he kept staring off into space.
