by Dave Daren
“I think we should recommend the diversion,” I continued. “The other boy’s lawyer will probably do the same.”
“Good,” the head of the Fuentes family repeated. “Camilo is in the conference room. You’ll text Alvaro the date and time of the court appearance, and I’ll make sure that my son is there.”
“Okay,” I said as I dug my cell phone out of my suit pocket and handed it to the man across the desk from me after I unlocked it.
The giant man’s hand was so large that my cell phone looked like a child’s toy. After he added the number to my contacts, he handed the device back to me, and I took his silent nod as a sign that I needed to leave his office.
I waved as I left, though both of the men had already begun to talk to each other quietly, so I shut the door behind me and then trotted down the walkway to the conference room. The first floor of the warehouse was still quiet when I peeked over the railing to check on the activity below. Not that I was all that interested in whatever was going on, but it gave me a few more seconds of peace before I had to deal with my client, who would know doubt be in full surly teen mode at this hour.
When I opened the door to the conference room, I found Camilo was in the chair at the head of the table in a baggy hoodie and jeans. He had his pristine sneakers on the table as he leaned back as far as the office chair would allow, and his eyes were glued to the screen of his cell phone.
“What’s up, Rob?” the teen asked with a little smirk as he glanced up at me.
“Just reviewing your record,” I replied as I sat in the chair next to him. “Getting started early?”
“It’s the family business,” the young dark-haired man retorted.
“I have the feeling your dad’s arrest record is shorter,” I countered.
I’d learned early that with teenagers it was best to match them quip for quip if I wanted to convince them to talk to me, and Camilo Fuentes was nothing if not sarcastic.
“It is,” the teen huffed. “I’ve heard the lecture before. Want to try something new?”
“We do need to go over the court process,” I said with a shrug.
“I already know the drill,” Camilo said as he sat forward in his chair and put his phone on the table. “Sit quietly, look repentant, wear nice clothes but nothing that makes me look older.”
“And resist the urge to smirk or make sarcastic remarks no matter what’s said,” I finished the list for him.
“Simple,” the Fuentes heir said. “Anything else?”
“Just make sure you don’t talk to anyone about this,” I warned. “Not even your friend, Jimmy.”
“I thought we would be at the same trial,” the dark-haired teen said. “That’s how it’s always worked before. My friends and me are always in the same courtroom.”
“You likely will be,” I said. “And I’ll talk to his lawyer to make sure we’re on the same page. But, the walls have ears so no bragging, no videos, and no reminiscing.”
“Alright,” the teen muttered as he picked up his cell phone.
“Good,” I said with a nod. “We don’t want to make our case any worse.”
“It was just a fucking joyride,” the Fuentes heir grumbled. “There wasn’t even a scratch on that car when the cops took it.”
“Even so,” I sighed. “There’s a chance that the judge or the prosecutor will be harder on you because of your father.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Camilo rolled his eyes as he started to play a game on his cell phone. “But you’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I will,” I said as I gathered my briefcase. “As long as you don’t make my job impossible.”
“I won’t talk to Jimmy,” the teen muttered.
“And no videos?” I asked as I stood.
“No videos,” the dark-haired teen rolled his eyes and held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“I’ll see you at the hearing,” I told him.
I had no doubt he had a recording of his joyride, but hopefully he and Jimmy were smart enough not to post it anywhere until after the trial. Truthfully, it was a small miracle it hadn’t already made the rounds on social media.
“Got it,” the teen said and then swore at his game as he lost a round.
“Alvaro has my number if you need anything in the meantime,” I said with a wave goodbye.
I didn’t get a reply as I strolled out of the conference room, and it was clear the teen was done with me. At least he’d given me his word that he wouldn’t talk to anybody, and he was prepared for the trial. As long as he did as he was told and didn’t share that video, my work was done for the moment.
The door to Alvaro’s office was still closed, so I trotted down the stairs and out into the sticky, soupy air. It clung to me like another suit, and I picked up my speed as I hurried to my parking spot.
My car was sweltering when I opened the door, and the Florida sun had already started to bake the seats. I cranked up the AC as soon as I started the engine and rolled down the windows to help push the hot air out. By the time I pulled up to the gate, my car was cool enough that the sweat that had formed on my forehead was dry, and I was grateful that at least my old AC was still functional.
The drive to the Public Defender’s office was short, though I did stop at my favorite food truck to get a bacon, egg, and cheese burrito with hot sauce on the way. I ate half of it on the way back to my car and then stuffed the last bite of the delicious wrap into my mouth when I pulled into my usual spot.
Most of my coworkers hadn’t arrived yet or were in court as I snuck into the offices, and I almost made it to my cubicle without notice. But Rina was at the printer when I turned the corner, and she caught sight of me before I could duck inside my cubicle.
“Rob,” the woman greeted me in her thick southern accent. “I heard about your momma. I’m so sorry.”
“How?” I asked in amazement.
I knew the paralegal had an inexhaustible supply of informants, but I hadn’t even told our boss why I was leaving. In fact, I hadn’t told a single, living soul. There was no way she should know.
“Oh, suga’,” the paralegal patted me on the shoulder in comfort. “She called earlier to check on ya’ and told me all ‘bout it. Says that’s why you’re takin’ that new job.”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
My mother probably told the southern woman everything she knew so there was no use trying to deny it. The two had become friendly over the last few years, and my mother would’ve cracked when Rina asked why I would leave a job I enjoyed.
“You’re the best son a mother could ask for,” the dynamic woman said as she covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes turned misty with tears, and she shook her head as she tried to control her emotions.
“Thanks, Rina,” I said as I bobbed my head at the woman. “If you can keep my mother’s condition to yourself, then I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course, darlin’,” the woman nodded her head as a solemn expression crossed her face. She could gossip with the best of them, but I’d learned that when it came to the important things, she was a steel trap. “Now, you go get some work done. It’ll be a good distraction.”
She hurried me along and then turned back to her printer to hide the tears that still pooled in her eyes.
“You’re the best, Rina,” I told her. “I’ll really miss working with you.”
She bobbed her head at me, but she refused to look in my direction, so I just patted her on the shoulder and slipped into my little office. The chair needed the same adjustment as usual, and the computer took forever to boot up, but a sense of nostalgia washed over me as I went through what had become my normal morning routine.
When the computer was finally at the login screen, I put in my password and then pulled up my emails. There was nothing too interesting, though the prosecutor for Rick’s case had sent his last offer along with an invitation to lunch, and I grinned as I sent him a time and a place. The young thief would not see any jail time, th
ough he would have to do the two-hundred-and-fifty community service hours, and I’d negotiated his probation down to six months.
Once that was finished I turned my attention to Camilo’s case. He would likely be on the same docket as his friend Jimmy, so I needed to contact the lawyer that was assigned to him, and I smirked when I realized it was my coworker, Stephen.
I leaned back in my chair to see if the middle-aged lawyer was the one at the printer, but Rina just glanced over at me with a smile and a wave.
“Who you lookin’ for?” she asked when I stood to glance over the tops of the low, gray cubicle walls.
“Stephen,” I mumbled as I gave the wide room another look.
“Oh,” the paralegal nodded her head. “He’s out tryin’ to meet his new client, Jimmy Suarez.”
“Perfect,” I grinned. “You really are the best. If I can ever afford my own paralegal, you can expect a call.”
“I ain’t cheap,” the southern woman drawled with a flip of her long blonde hair before she looked around the cubicles with a flash of disdain. “But I think you could persuade me if you’ll be the only lawyer I work with.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I chuckled as I turned to pick up my cell phone to call Stephen.
Rina nodded her head and then sauntered away with a wave.
“Hey,” the middle-aged lawyer said as he answered. “Congrats on the new job.”
He sounded distracted, and I could hear the hum of music mixed with the grind of a coffee machine.
“Thanks,” I responded. “I won’t keep you. But I think we should touch base about the Jimmy Suarez and Camilo Fuentes cases.”
“Fuentes?” he asked and then whispered a thank you to someone. “Wait, THE Fuentes family?”
“Yeah,” I said.
Stephen had spent a few years in the prosecutor’s office before joining the other side, which was probably why he recognized the name. He’d switched when he realized that he wanted to help some of the teens that came across his desk rather than send them to prison. He took most of the cases that involved anyone under eighteen, and he almost always had them do community service at the place he volunteered so that he could be a mentor.
“Man, I didn’t know they were your new employers,” the middle-aged lawyer whistled. “You better be careful.”
“I will,” I said. “The boys will be tried together, and I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page with asking for diversion.”
“Oh, yeah,” Stephen replied and I could almost see him bob his head like he did when he was enthusiastic about something. “Jimmy hasn’t been in too much trouble.”
“And the car was returned to its owner without any damage,” I added.
“Exactly,” the other lawyer said. “It shouldn’t be a hard case for either of us.”
“I’m glad we’re thinking the same thing,” I told him. “I’ll talk to you later. Enjoy your coffee.”
“Will do,” my coworker chuckled.
I stuffed my cell phone in my pocket, grabbed my keys and wallet, turned off my computer, and then scooped up my suit jacket and briefcase as I readied myself to leave for the day. My last client for the Public Defender’s Office was taken care of, we’d appear before the judge the next day, and then I would be done and could focus my attention on my mother for the entire weekend.
Camilo’s trial would be first thing on Monday morning, and it wouldn’t be a hard one as long as I could convince the snarky teen to look repentant. He must have managed to pull it off before since he’d received diversion for all of his other brushes with the law. Heck, he’d be finished at the courthouse with enough time to attend his afternoon classes.
I checked in with mom on the way back to my apartment and then decided I’d earned a night of relaxation. I needed something to distract me from my last case with the Public Defender’s Office, my mother’s illness, and Camilo’s trial. So I turned on one of my favorite courtroom dramas and settled in for a night of binging TV and criticizing.
The next day, Rick’s court appearance went by in the blink of an eye, and the young thief thanked me profusely and promised to change his ways. For a brief moment, he might have even meant it, but as we walked out of the courthouse, he was greeted by a group of young men that I’d seen in the courts before.
With a sigh, I returned to the office to finish up the last of my paperwork and make my goodbyes. The promised cake appeared, and though Rina had kept her promise, I had the sense that most of my colleagues seemed to understand that circumstances had pushed me to leave, even if they weren’t sure exactly what those circumstances were. I left as soon as my exit interview was complete, which meant I reached my mother’s house earlier than usual.
My mother refused to relax, however. She was the kind of person who cleaned away her frustrations, and she huffed at me as I tried to take over the kitchen. She’d rolled her eyes at me when I told her I wanted to learn to cook more, but then muttered under her breath in Spanish about how she wouldn’t be around forever and needed to teach me while she could. So the cooking lessons began, though she still complained that I was too messy and tried to tidy up behind me.
By the time that Monday morning rolled around I was eager to have something to focus on other than my stubborn mama. She’d kicked me out of her house after dinner on Sunday and told me that she needed time to herself, and that if I ever so much as looked at her kitchen again, she’d beat me with her chancla.
I woke up before sunrise on Monday to review Camilo’s case, and then I called Stephen to see if he wanted to go to breakfast with me before court. He’d been awake, too, and he’d met me at a place on the same block as the courthouse so we could eat and talk about our plan to present diversion as a sentence. We’d both emailed the prosecutor separately, who’d agreed that the boys should receive diversion and that would be her suggestion, though she informed me that she planned to request a higher fine for my client since he’d been the one to drive.
The humidity had crept in as we ate, and I could feel it wrap around me as Stephen and I walked off our breakfasts. The sun had just begun to peer through the glass skyscrapers to fall on the steps of the courthouse when we arrived, and I knew the concrete would be baking by the time we left.
“Jipato,” Osvaldo called out.
I spotted my new employer in the front passenger seat of his black SUV. It had stopped in front of the courthouse despite the no parking signs, and Osvaldo had rolled down the window to get my attention.
“Good morning, boss,” I said with a warm smile.
“I’ll see you inside,” Stephen whispered to me after a nervous glance toward the cartel leader.
“Okay,” I replied before I strolled up to the SUV to open the door for my employer.
“Who was that?” the beefy man asked with a scowl directed at Stephen’s back.
“That’s Jimmy’s lawyer,” I answered. “He works at the Public Defender’s Office.”
“Ah,” the boss said before he turned to say something to the people in the back seat.
The passenger side back door swung open, and Alvaro climbed out. With Osvaldo in the front seat, the big man had even less room in his usual spot, and I imagined he’d spent the ride with his knees in his chest. I wondered why he never sat in the passenger seat like most bodyguards, but maybe Osvaldo preferred the front seat for some reason.
Alvaro’s black eyes searched the wide open area at the bottom of the stairs, up to the entryway to the courthouse, and then the road as he twisted to make sure that there wasn’t a threat anywhere. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he stepped to the side, and Camilo scooted out of the SUV.
The teen was in black slacks, a baby-pink button up with a skinny black tie, and shined black dress shoes. His short black hair was styled with pomade, and he’d shaved the few hairs that had spotted his jawline and upper lip when we’d first met.
“Yo, Rob!” the Fuentes heir said when he saw me. “What do you think?”
“You
clean up nice,” I told him with a smile. “You remember the rules?”
“Keep quiet, look upset or scared for my future, and let you do the talking,” the teen listed on his fingers.
“Exactly,” I said with a nod.
“Do you have a plan?” Osvaldo asked as he stepped out of the front passenger seat.
As soon as the door was shut behind him, the driver pulled away, and we were left by ourselves in the early morning light.
“Yes,” I answered as I gestured for us to climb the stairs. “I’ve already contacted the prosecutor. She plans to recommend both boys be sentenced to diversion. Camilo will have a higher fine since he was the one driving… but he shouldn’t see any jail time.”
“Good,” the scarred man bobbed his head in approval.
I was grateful for the AC when we reached the top of the stairs, and Alvaro held open the door for us to enter the courthouse. The lobby was bathed in the pale yellow light of early morning, and the black and white tile had yet to lose the chill of night. The cool air washed over me and dried the beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead.
“Mr. Torres,” John said with a bright smile as I walked up to the metal detectors.
The large security guard was a little shorter than the giant Alvaro, but he had the muscle and layer of fat that Osvaldo carried. His grin faltered when he saw the two men with me, and his eyes did a quick sweep of them as if he expected to see a gun on their hips.
“John,” I said as I began to fill the tub for the x-ray machine with my briefcase, wallet, keys, glasses, and cell phone. “How are you this morning?”
“Pretty good so far,” he responded while he waved me through the metal detector. “The wife made cinnamon rolls with coffee.”
“Gluten free?” I teased.
He’d told me before that his current wife was a health nut since she did some sports modeling, and her primary goal in life was to get her husband to go gluten free.
“Yeah,” the large man said with a helpless shrug. “But she found a good recipe this time. Though the icing could’ve been sweeter.”
