“Ow,” I whined, raising a hand to my pounding head.
“Sorry,” he winced.
“Where’s James?” Carly asked, looking left and right down the hallways as she double-checked for her key and closed the door behind herself.
“No idea,” Rory told us. “Mika and I shared a room, but he was on the other side of the suite. Locks those French doors every night like we’re going to smother him while he sleeps. When we looked in this morning, the doors were wide open and he was already gone.”
“Maybe he’s eating breakfast,” I supplied.
“Maybe,” Mika answered. “But I have a feeling he just wanted to get as far away from the rest of us as possible today. He’s probably already left the hotel.”
“I can’t believe we even got him to agree to stay here and not at his place,” Rory muttered.
“He can’t still think that Addison did this,” I said, pressing the down button by the elevator. I flexed my toes, which were in desperate need of a stretch. I’d slept in my shoes.
“Well,” Mika said darkly, “he does.”
Just then, the elevator doors dinged open. There stood James, looking as shocked as we were. Then, smooth as a cat, he stepped from the elevator, pushed through Mika and Rory and glided down the hallway towards his room.
“That was awkward,” Carly said under her breath as we all stepped into the waiting car. It zoomed us all the way to the restaurant floor without a single stop.
After scarfing down a huge breakfast of pancakes, eggs, fruit and coffee, which aided my headache and general hangover immensely, we practically rolled ourselves to the boutique, which was finally open at the same time we happened to be present. A sales clerk was just pulling the doors open. She smiled widely at us, her hot pink lipstick leaking into the lines and wrinkles around her mouth. Her wispy gray hair was pulled back in a loose bun, held neatly in place by a large silver comb. “Good morning,” she chirped. “And welcome. Can I help you folks find anything today?” I noticed that her teeth were terribly yellow, one slightly pinked by her lipstick.
“Clothes,” I said brightly. I’d been tired and grouchy all through breakfast, as the other three chatted merrily around me. They’d spoken about everything from the weather to the firm mattresses in the hotel to the delicious food. Nothing had been discussed about the magazine, including the upcoming edition, nor about Addison and her pending preliminary hearing. However, now that three cups of coffee were finally kicking in, I felt as if I could bring something valuable to the table. “We need some sharp looking outfits.” While fashion wasn’t my strong suite (half my wardrobe was borrowed from Addison and pinned to fit my small chest), I had a feeling that I was probably the most experienced out of the bunch. A terrifying thought to be sure but, hey, I was needed. “What do you have in a size eight?” I asked.
Twenty minutes later, the four of us strolled towards the elevator, carrying bags filled with clothes, shoes and varying accessories. “Do we really need all of this?” Carly grumbled. “The last time I wore earrings was prom. That was at least ten years ago.” Mika eyed her and raised an eyebrow. “I said at least,” she bit, walking faster to avoid his further scrutiny.
I slowed up slightly, allowing her to pass me, and batted Mika’s arm. “She’s only 30,” I hissed. “Just turned last month. Give the girl a break, she’s having a hard time of it.”
Mika chuckled but said nothing.
Back upstairs, we agreed to meet in the lobby in 40 minutes. Addison’s preliminary hearing would begin at 11 o’clock sharp, and we wanted to get there early enough to score seats, even if it meant that we had to sit through other hearings. The room would no doubt be packed to the gills well before it all began. News outlets of every kind had been splashing the story around, including the shady details, since Addison’s arrest. Everyone knew when she’d be appearing.
After a quick shower, I threw some product in my hair and willed my curls to air-dry quickly and normally. This rarely, if ever, happened, but the hairdryer would make it worse, I decided. Quickly, I slapped some cheap moisturizer onto my cheeks, dabbed a touch of store-bought foundation across my face, some gloss across my lips and a light pencil around my eyes. Staring at myself, I decided that I looked, at the very least, presentable. The dark, worried circles under my eyes couldn’t be helped — not without my usual bag of makeup and tricks, anyway.
Hurrying back into our room, I noticed that Carly was already dressed in the knee-length navy dress and black belt she’d chosen downstairs. Her feet were covered in soft, black ballet flats and her hair was loose and tousled around her shoulders. Her signature golden bracelets were back in place. I actually gasped when I saw her. She looked that good. “Oh, stop,” she whispered, embarrassed as she struggled to place a gold hoop earring in her left lobe. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You look amazing,” I told her. “I’ve never seen you dressed up before. You clean up well.”
“Thanks, Moyer,” she grinned. “I laid out one of your outfits on the bed. Removed the tags and everything.”
“You’re the best,” I smiled back, clutching my towel and stepping over to view her work. She’d chosen a pair of camel-colored slacks and green peasant top, on top of which she’d laid a pair of pearl earrings. “This hardly goes with my high cotton briefs,” I called out to her as I went to grab my last clean pair of them from the plastic bag, set aside on an otherwise empty desk. Carly laughed loudly and shook her head at her reflection as I began to dress. “I don’t see why you’re not running around commando like the rest of us.”
A short time later, Carly and I arrived in the lobby. We were out of breath, but on time. Rory and Mika were, of course, already waiting. They both looked sharp in their black pants, pressed shirts and colorful ties. “Corbin called,” Rory informed us. “We’re supposed to meet him at MATC (that’s Milwaukee Area Technical College for all you non-Milwaukee residents) in the student lot. He wants to ride over together.”
“Did he say why?” Carly asked.
Mika shrugged. “He probably just wants to give us a rundown of what to expect today.”
“They’ll issue bail, right?” I asked, grabbing his arm tightly. I swallowed hard, ignoring the rippling muscles beneath the high thread count. It was a completely inappropriate time to imagine him shirtless, but I found myself going there. He must have sensed my distress because he smiled and gently pried my hand from his bicep and looped it under his arm, taking my hand in his. We walked out into the bright sunlight, its rays stinging our eyes. The morning was breezy and cool, and the smell of Lake Michigan drifted through the air. I never could quite place the smell but I often compared it to a wet dog. Not totally unpleasant, but not something I liked smelling too often.
“We’re not sure,” Mika responded quietly after a few moments of walking. We were headed towards my rusty green Suburban. I began to rifle around in my purse for the keys. “It’s just a prelim, so probably not. Bail is usually set at a separate hearing. But assuming they do, we’ll make sure she gets out as soon as possible.”
“You’re such a wonderful boyfriend,” I told him, turning to give him an appreciative smile.
“Naw. I’m just rich. Makes you imagine things,” he teased. “It’s amazing what a woman will put up with if you tell her that you can bail her best friend out of jail.”
“I always thought it’d be both of us,” I answered quietly, stopping in the middle of the parking lot to dig through my purse. Where were my keys?
Mika frowned at me. “What? What do you mean by that?”
I shook my head and smiled wryly. “Oh, nothing. It’s just something we used to joke about. If one of us ever went to jail, we wouldn’t want the other one bailing us out, we’d want them in the cell next to us. Just something silly we used to say. That’s all.”
“Frankly, I’m glad you’re not in there with her for this one.”
“Me too. Of course, we always thought we’d be put up for something stupid. Streaking. Ski
nny-dipping in a mall fountain. You know, the usual run-of-the-mill debauchery.”
“You’ve never been streaking?” he asked with a raised brow.
“No,” I answered quickly, the way one might if they were lying. If. It was college. I’d had a wild moment at a party. “Why, have YOU?”
Mika shrugged and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, an impish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I both loved and hated it when he played coy. I was never sure when to take him seriously. That was one of the greatest things about him.
“A-ha!” I said, finally pulling my key ring from its hiding spot.
“Hi, folks. Hop in,” came Corbin’s voice suddenly. I think I jumped nearly a foot. I hadn’t even heard his town car sneak up behind us on the busy street. He’d flipped on his hazards and was holding up traffic, so the four of us quickly scrambled into the car. Mika and his long, lean frame took up the front seat, while Rory, Carly and I squished into the back.
“I thought we were meeting at the college,” Carly said, clearly flustered as she strapped her seatbelt across her chest. I struggled to pull my belt out from under Rory, who had sat on it in our haste. I hated the middle seat. I always felt like I would fly through the windshield with a pump of the brakes.
“We were,” said Corbin, grinning at Carly in the rearview mirror. “But I thought I’d swing by the hotel first just in case. Lo and behold, you hadn’t even left yet.”
“Down the road, it won’t surprise you nearly as much that women make you late,” Rory said dryly. I punched his arm lightly and shot him a dirty look. He shrugged.
Corbin laughed. I liked his voice. It was deep and somewhat gravelly. It wasn’t the voice you expected him to have and yet, somehow, it totally fit him.
I noticed Carly discreetly pull a powder case from her purse. She quickly opened it, checked her reflection, closed it and shoved it back in its pocket. “We’re going to court, not a modeling audition,” I whispered, so that no one could hear us over the talk show playing in the background. I was getting the sneaky suspicion that she had serious hots for Corbin, but now wasn’t the time to be asking.
“I just want to make sure I look presentable,” she whispered back. “For Addison.”
“Mmhmm,” I muttered playfully.
“What can we expect today, exactly?” Rory asked as he stared glumly out the window. It didn’t seem like he really wanted to know.
“Honestly?” Corbin asked him, making eye contact in the rearview mirror. He had the slightest hint of crow’s feet which, again, only seemed to add to his passion and charm. When Rory didn’t answer, Corbin sighed and looked back to the road, which was clogged with traffic. We could see the courthouse just off in the distance.
Somehow, even with the slow pace of the cars around us, we seemed to be approaching the building far too quickly. It reminded me of the various government buildings one might find in Washington, D.C. I’d only been to our national capital once, on a school field trip many years ago, but the granite and marble buildings would be forever etched in my memory. Our courthouse in Milwaukee was nearly as long as it was tall. Off-white, nearly gray in color, with large pillars and beautiful rounded windows, it could almost pass for something beautiful until you read the large black letters: “Milwaukee County Courthouse.”
“Well,” Corbin began, even though he hadn’t been prompted to continue. “Addison will likely look presentable but tired, I imagine. I saw her yesterday. This is a tough case. Takes a psychological toll on a person. Plus, she’s being held, which is also enough to drive a sane person mad. I’m going to go meet with her briefly after I drop you all at the front. You’ll need to go through security, check the assignments, find Judge Fishel and make your way to the room. Unfortunately, there is plenty of evidence to have this case taken to trial, but I didn’t want to waive the prelim which I think will work in our favor. Next week, we’ll be scheduled for the felony arraignment, where the judge will determine if Addison is a flight risk. She’s a well-known citizen with no prior records. Additionally, her passport expired six months ago and she hasn’t renewed it. My hope is that Fishel will set bail, though it will be hefty.”
My head was spinning as I tried to keep track of Corbin’s words. “So, you’re saying we can’t take her home today? We can’t get her out?”
Corbin shook his head. “But I’ll push to have her arraignment as soon as possible.”
“Meaning?” Rory asked.
“Hopefully within the next 24 to 72 hours” Corbin paused. “No promises. From there, we hit the trial, which will probably be set fairly quickly, given the celebrity of the case.”
“Can’t we do something to avoid a trial?” Rory asked.
Corbin shook his head. “Possible but it’s not likely, if we want to avoid jail time.”
The five of us rode in silence the rest of the way to the courthouse. Corbin dropped us off as closely to the entrance as he could before whizzing away. Before I managed to blink, we were swarmed with newscasters that had spotted Corbin’s car a mile away. Questions were fired so quickly, I couldn’t keep track of them. Did we think Addison would go to prison? Did Addison murder Carmen out of jealousy? What were Addison’s chances of being sprung? My head began to spin. My legs felt as though someone had filled them with lead. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears and I felt all of the blood rushing through my head. I was suddenly woozy. Through the fray, I felt Mika’s hand gently cup my lower back and I immediately snapped into the present. The questions were still coming. Did I think Addison was guilty? Did I feel as though Addison was getting special treatment in jail? “No comment,” I snapped, shoving a path through the reporters. “No comment, no comment, no comment.”
“Can you comment on anything?” a reporter called, just as a camera was roughly shoved into my face.
“No,” I snarled, ducking out of the limelight. I bobbed and weaved, pushing a path towards the main doors of the courthouse as quickly as possible. The others followed me in hot pursuit.
I found myself wondering if I’d be on the evening news. My parents had been calling almost non-stop, wanting updates on Addison. Blessedly, my cell phone had died and I hadn’t had time to pick up a charger. I knew that they must be going crazy. Addison’s parents, on the other hand, had always been somewhat odd and non-committal to the whole idea of parenting. While they’d called me upon hearing the news, neither had any intention of flying in for Addison’s trial. As far as I was concerned, her friends and my family were her support system through all of this mess. I hated the idea of presenting us poorly on camera, but I couldn’t help but be frustrated by the barrage of questions.
On the large stone stairs, Carly tripped over the feet of a reporter and stumbled. I reached out to catch her but, just then, as if by magic, Corbin appeared by her side and caught her around the waist just before she hit the ground. “I thought you had to park the car and meet Addison,” I said breathlessly as he took Carly by the wrist and began pushing us through the chaos.
“I found rockstar parking,” he gestured somewhere over his shoulder. “And it looked like you could use a little help first.”
The reporters instantly swarmed Corbin, asking him why he’d taken the case and what he thought Addison’s odds were. He set his jaw and didn’t even acknowledge them. He’d clearly had a lot more practice navigating media and got us through the mob in record time.
“That was really terrible,” Rory panted once we’d all managed to make our way into the main entrance. “They’re animals.” The media pressed their noses to the glass doors but none of them came inside. Reporters would be allowed in the courtroom, but absolutely no cameras or photography. The five of us stared back at them, breathless and somewhat bedraggled, but we eventually smoothed our outfits and hair as we turned to approach security.
“Addison does that for a living,” Mika added grimly as he began removing his wallet and spare change from his pockets.
We all paused for a moment while that revelati
on sunk in. It was true, Addison was a reporter — a nationally recognized one at that. I guess I’d never really thought of her in that classic reporter light. Peppering people with questions, trying whatever tactics she could to get a story, even if it meant camping out at someone’s office for hours on end. She had the brazen personality, there was no doubt about it. In college, she was the one to constantly get into trouble, while I was the one constantly bailing her out. After graduation, she’d gotten herself together and focused her energy on building her career. I knew she’d used her sexual prowess more than once to get the answers she’d needed for a story. Addison had always — and would always — do whatever it took to reach her end game, and she was well on her way to the top. It was noble when it was on your behalf, or on the behalf of someone you loved. It was terrifying from the other end of the spectrum and something that I hadn’t allowed myself to consider until now. The prosecution would paint Addison as a bully. A temptress. They’d say she’d do whatever it took to get to the top of the ladder, even if that meant murdering the people that were in her way.
While I myself could never doubt Addison’s innocence in this whole mess, I felt a cold chill creep up my spine. For the first time, a terrible thought dawned on me. The media, the very discipline that Addison herself had put blood, sweat and tears into, could very well become her undoing.
After making it through security, we split from Corbin, who went off to find his client. The four of us shuffled through the labyrinth that was the courthouse until we found Addison’s room assignment. The gallery was about half full. I recognized about a half a dozen reporters — their recorders, notebooks and pens poised and at the ready.
One female reporter, Darla, was with The Journal‘s rival paper. Darla was no Addison, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She had dyed her hair to match Addison’s near platinum color perfectly, going so far as to track down Addison’s salon and stylist. Darla’s makeup was heavily caked on, very unlike Addison’s, but the tips and tricks she used, especially with eyeliner, were the same. While Darla didn’t have Addison’s beauty or curves, she wasn’t completely hopeless looking — keeping her body tight and toned through the yoga classes she wrote about at least once a month in the Health and Fitness column at the paper she worked for. And while Addison’s star had continued to rise throughout the years, Darla had always found herself a step behind her rival, despite the fact that they’d graduated from the same school in the same year. No doubt Darla was enjoying this turn of the tables immensely. We caught each other’s eye and I glared at her as she smiled smugly and turned away. Amusingly, she was dressed in a burnt orange suit — no doubt an effort to match what she hoped was Addison’s new wardrobe.
Alllison Janda - Marian Moyer 03 - Scandal, Temptation & a Taste of Flan Page 9
