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Once we’re headed back to the bench, I pick up the conversation again. “You made it look like less is more, translated to the prosecution thinking the jury was stupid. They responded well and that’s why we’re on recess. The prosecutor is scrambling.”
“I’ll reserve judgment until I feel out the courtroom and their case this afternoon.”
We sit down and he takes a bite of his hot dog. I set my nuts aside. “You aren’t going to eat?” he asks.
“I’m still feeling really crappy. I think olives are ruined for me for life.”
“You love olives, so I bet that statement won’t last more than a month.”
Or nine, I think, the idea of telling him on his birthday really taking root. “How did Richard and Elsa feel about the openings?”
“The same as you.”
“And Dana?”
“She didn’t say much and she asked for a private place to eat lunch alone.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” I reply. “All those eyes on you are pretty intense when you’re the attorney. When you’re the one on trial it has to be ten times more intense.”
He finishes off his hot dog with his normal ridiculous speed and somehow still looks sexy doing it.
“Have you asked her who she thinks leaked that call?”
“She dropped that bombshell on me right before we opened this morning. She believes her father had her calls recorded, which means that someone close to him could have done it, at least, per her. I still think it was the boyfriend.”
“Wait,” I say, alarmed. “There could be more calls?”
“Yes, and while that’s concerning, as I sit here with you, with some space, I ask myself, why, if she knew she was being recorded, would she make those statements to her boyfriend?”
“Anger? Frustration?”
“And the prosecution will say those same emotions made her pull the trigger. I hope like hell she has a better answer than that when I ask her in a few minutes.”
“Maybe she wanted her father to hear? I mean I know that my father is such a bastard, but I can’t stop hungering for his love. Sometimes people act out to get attention.”
“I’m not sure that makes her look any better.”
“It makes her look like a victim,” I say.
“Pushed to the brink,” he counters, scrubbing his jaw and pressing his hands to his legs. “You’ve made me eager to get back and ask her about ten questions.” He leans over and kisses me. “I need to go find some new magic.”
“You will. You always do.”
He reaches around and cups my head, kissing me deeply, passionately, before saying, “Yes. I do. You.” His cellphone rings and he grabs it, “Richard,” he says, answering the call. “When?” he asks. “Is he still there?” He disconnects and sticks his phone back in his pocket. “The boyfriend is at the courthouse making a scene because Dana won’t see him.”
“Interesting,” I say. “She must believe he released the audio of that call.”
“I still think that’s a big possibility,” Reese says. “I keep going back to the premise of him killing the father, marrying Dana, and becoming a rich man.”
“I get him getting cold feet,” I say. “I get him being afraid he’ll be convicted but hurting her defeats the entire idea of inheriting her money. It just doesn’t feel right.”
“Jail scares people. You know that.” He kisses me. “I need to go. Maybe he’ll talk to me, especially in his current state of mind.” He stands. “I’ll call you if I can before I go back into court.” He takes off and I open my computer and start typing in the baby journal, detailing the “birthday promise” and I end with: When I watch you in that courtroom, I am certain our child will be both beautiful and intelligent. I smile, and add, Until next time, Cat, as a play on how I sign my column.
A sudden sense of being watched has me scanning for the press but all I find is a pregnant woman with long brunette hair in a pink dress, sitting on a bench to my right and eating of all things, a hot dog. Something about her bothers me but she’s not looking at me. I don’t know why I feel odd about her presence. It must be hormones. For now, I focus on the hot dog she is eating and it reminds me of Reese’s lucky lunch, which has me smiling, while the size of the women’s belly, quite round and full, has me wondering how big I will be soon. It’s a little scary and intimidating to think about being responsible for a living being’s development. What if I do it wrong? Reese won’t, I think. He won’t get it wrong.
I refocus on the journal and add an entry about seeing the pregnant woman and all of my thoughts. I’m about to start working on my column for tomorrow, to the best that I can this early in the day’s events, but I find myself glancing toward the woman to find her gone and for some reason, this bothers me as much as when she was here. I’m losing my mind.
Reese
