When I was on the sidewalk, I turned the corner at Broadway. The sun shot hot bullets off the glass front of the courthouse, punching my eyes. I squinted at the glare and felt like some western cowboy at high noon. Time for the final shootout. Too bad a trial took way longer and was way more boring than a six gun duel on a dusty street cut between rows of whorehouses and saloons.
I shot my cuffs and adjusted my tie. Man, I hated suits.
I strode up the courthouse steps.
Time to kick fucking ass.
SAMANTHA
After screaming my lungs out on the driveway for the better part of two minutes, I stood and dusted off the knees of the sweats I’d slept in and ran into the Manos house. I sprinted upstairs and jumped behind the desk in Spiridon’s office and frantically searched online for San Diego court houses while wiping tears from my eyes.
There was more than one. I ruled out the obvious ones, like Juvenile Court and Family Law Court. There were two Superior Courts. One downtown, and the other in Kearny Mesa. They were fairly far apart. I hoped I didn’t pick the wrong one.
I had no idea how long a trial actually took. I mean, most court TV shows took an hour or less. But what about in real life? I had zero clue. Best to get cracking.
What I did know was that I couldn’t run into court wearing sweats and slippers.
I ran into my new bedroom and rifled through my closet. I didn’t have a second to savor the fact that this was my first morning in my new home with Christos. Welcome to Sucktown, population: Me.
The remnants of my Washington D.C. wardrobe were perfect for putting together court-appropriate attire. I selected a black blazer and a gray pencil skirt, plus a cute white blouse, black hose and conservative pumps to go with.
I dashed into the bathroom and slathered on antiperspirant. Too bad I was out of industrial strength. I would have to go with Extra Dry. I pulled my hair back in a harsh pony tail, then applied minimal makeup.
I was out of the house seven minutes later.
Who said women had to take forever to get dressed?
I was on a mission.
I was going to save Christos.
I tried calling him as I hopped into my VW, but he didn’t answer his phone.
It didn’t matter. I had proof of his innocence in the palm of my hand.
CHRISTOS
Footsteps echoed throughout the crowded marble hallway inside the courthouse as I snailed through security in slow motion. I had to remove my belt and shoes when I went through the metal detector. It was almost like going on a plane trip vacation, except there was a fifty-fifty chance my flight would crash into the side of Mt. Guilty.
I paused to glance back at the sunlight shining through the tall windows of the courthouse’s main entrance. I took a good look, in case it was the last time I saw freedom for four years.
No, fuck that.
I was going to fight this shit until I won.
I found Russell waiting outside our courtroom.
“Eye of the Tiger?” Russell said as I strutted up to him.
“What?” I asked.
“You got that Rocky Balboa look on your face when he fought Clubber Lang the second time at the end of Rocky three.”
I chuckled. “Fucking eye of the tiger, man.”
As always, Russell was sharply dressed from top to bottom. His suit was freshly pressed, his cufflinks glittered, and the white of his collar and cuffs contrasted brilliantly against his ebony skin. “Speaking of eyes, I see your concealer did the trick. You look like Joe Citizen now.”
“Yeah.” I’d borrowed some from Samantha’s makeup bag this morning.
“We win this,” Russell said, “I’ll have to take you out for a fancy dinner, considering we’re both dressed up.”
“Yeah,” I smiled. “I’m shooting for lunch. I plan on being in and out of here by noon.”
Russell chuckled and slapped my shoulder firmly. “Eye of the tiger.”
A tall, beautiful dark-skinned woman in a tight navy blue suit stood next to Russell, holding the handle of her briefcase in front of her hips with both hands. She smiled at me.
“Christos,” Russell said, “you remember Ms. Johnson? She will be assisting today at trial.”
“Of course.” I smiled down at her, “Brianna.” At 5’11” in her heels, she still seemed short to me. We shook hands. She had the same firm grip I remembered. I’d met her at Russell’s offices numerous times.
“Christos,” she smiled and nodded.
I knew Brianna was still on the lookout for quality husband material. Before Samantha had taken me off the market, I’d offered to fill the bill for Brianna several times. She was a good woman, smart and hellaciously funny the second she was off the clock and hung up her lawyer’s costume. But she’d said I was too young. I think I was eighteen at the time and she was thirty. I couldn’t blame her. I was still a mess back then. “Any good men been able to catch you yet, Brianna?”
“Not yet,” she grinned. “None of them are fast enough.” Brianna had trophies and photos of her running college track in her office.
“When are we going to head down to the SDU track to see who runs the fastest hundred?” I chided.
“Your muscle bound ass wouldn’t stand a chance,” she chuckled. “Too damn top heavy.”
“Keep dreaming,” I smiled. I was damn quick, but I knew Brianna would give me a run for my money once she put her track spikes on.
Russell said to me. “We get you off today, I’ll drive you both out to the track myself. But my money’s on Brianna.”
“I hope you like losing,” I grinned.
“I never lose,” Russell said shrewdly. “We ready?” He nodded toward the courtroom.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
Russell opened one of the heavy wooden doors and his game face slid into place like Sir Lancelot’s visor.
I followed Brianna and Russell into the belly of the beast.
The big door latched shut firmly behind me.
SAMANTHA
I was excited and anxious as I drove out of my new home, the one I shared with Christos!
I was sure fate was with me and good things were going to happen once I got to the court house downtown. Everything was going to work out for me and Christos in the end
The only problem?
At that moment, everything started going wrong.
Halfway to the freeway, the needle on my gas gauge decided to lay down on the job. It pointed right at the E like a lazy bastard. No problem. I was all about solving problems today. I would not be deterred. Luckily, there was a gas station right before the on ramp. Yay! There was also a long line. Lame! But there were no other convenient gas stations.
Waiting in line wouldn’t take that long, would it? There were four lines of cars, so I picked the shortest one, hoping it was the quickest one.
I waited.
Why was it so crowded? Were they out of gas? I hadn’t heard about any looming gas shortages or oil embargoes.
I pretended to be patient while I waited. The sedan two cars ahead finished and pulled away from the pump. The guy in front of me drove forward and climbed out of his huge truck to gas up. I was next.
Too bad truck guy had a gas tank the size of an oil field. It took forever for him to fill it up. Then he had to go inside to pay. Didn’t he have a credit card or a debit card? Who used cash anymore? Maybe he was going to pay with gold doubloons?
I tapped my foot impatiently. “Any time, cowboy!” I shouted. He had been wearing boots. All men who wore boots and drove trucks were cowboys. I’m sure he had a gun rack in his truck somewhere. I grew up in Washington D.C. Sue me.
Were had he gone? Was he using the bathroom? Did he fall into the toilet, or was it just diarrhea? Geez, how long did it take to wipe your butt?