Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2 (Reasonable Doubt #2)

Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2 (Reasonable Doubt #2) Page 5

“Light, airy, elegant—”

“Elegant!” He stomped his foot again. “The white swan is all about smooth, gentle movements... Her arms are well poised, graceful.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her forward. “Your arms are erratic, rough, and you’re dancing like a pigeon on crack!”

Her cheeks reddened, but he continued.

“I want a swan, Miss Everhart, and if you’re not up to the part—if your heart is elsewhere, like that other major you have, do me favor and let me know so I can groom someone else for the role.”

Silence.

“Let’s try this again!” He stepped back. “On my count, start the song from the second stanza...”

I leaned back against the wall, watching Aubrey effortlessly dance again and make everyone else look like amateurs. I watched until I couldn’t watch anymore, until her old director spotted my shadow and yelled at “the goddamn intruder” to leave.

Later that night, I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of bourbon,—pouring myself a shot. It was two in the morning and I was beyond restless.

I hadn’t been able to sleep since I came home and spotted a note from Ava on my door: “I’m not leaving until we talk—Ava.”

I’d balled it up and thrown it into the trash, wondering which person at GBH had been stupid enough to give out my address.

As I tossed back a shot, my phone rang.

“It’s two in the morning,” I hissed, holding it up to my ear.

“Um...” There was a slight pause. “May I speak to a...A Mr. Hamilton, please?”

“This is he. Did you not hear me say what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hamilton.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Gloria Matter from the parole board in New York City. I’m sorry to call you so late, but I didn’t want to turn in until I returned your inquiry from last week,” she said. “The inmate you called about is no longer an inmate. She was released recently and is now on parole.”

“I’m aware that she’s on parole.” I poured another drink. “However, I’m pretty sure leaving the state is a direct violation of those terms. Is New York soft on crime now? Do you let previous offenders roam the world as they please?”

“No sir, but she checked in with her officer this morning. We also checked her monitor the second we received your phone call so she’s still in the state...I must warn you that we don’t take too kindly to false reporting, Mr. Hamilton. If this was some type of—”

“I know what the f**k I saw.” I seethed. “She was here.” I hung up. I didn’t care enough to think about Ava right now.

I headed into my bedroom and lay against the sheets, hoping this second round of alcohol would work better than the first.

I lay there for an hour, watching the seconds on my clock tick by, yet no sleep came and thoughts of Aubrey began to fill my mind. I was thinking about the things she’d told me when we we’d first met, things she’d told me about her sex life, and I had the sudden urge to hear her voice.

I rolled over and scrolled down to her name.

“Hello?” She answered on the first ring. “Andrew?”

“Why haven’t you sucked a c**k before?”

“What?” She gasped. “How about ‘Good morning, Aubrey’? Are you awake?’ How about asking those things first?”

“Hello, Aubrey.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re clearly awake, so I’ll bypass that unnecessary question. Why haven’t you sucked a c**k before?”

She was silent.

“Do I need to drive to your apartment and make you answer the question in person?”

“Are you really in need of this information at three in the morning?”

“Desperately,” I said. “Answer the question.”

“It’s just something I never wanted to do.” There were papers shuffling in the background. “One of the guys I used to date would ask me to do it to him from time to time—to reciprocate, but I just...I didn’t like him enough to do it.”

“Hmmm.”

Silence.

We hadn’t had an actual phone conversation since the last time we had phone sex, right before I found out her real name was Aubrey and not Alyssa.

“Were you thinking about me?” she suddenly asked.

“What?”

“Were you thinking about me?” She repeated. “You’ve never called me this late before. Are you lonely?”

“I’m horny.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Would you like me to tell you what I’m wearing?”

“I already know what you’re wearing.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” I put a hand behind my head. “It’s Wednesday, which means you had practice until midnight, which means you went home and showered and immediately put your feet in an ice tub without putting on any pajamas.”

She sucked in a breath.

“And from the way you’re breathing right now I take it you’re still naked, and the reason you picked up my call on the first ring is because you want to touch yourself to the sound of my voice.”

Another gap of silence.

“Am I wrong?” I asked.

“No...” Her voice was low. “I don’t think you’re horny right now though.”

“Trust me. I am.”

“Maybe, but I think you called me because you like me—because you want to hear my voice since we haven’t talked on the phone in a while.”

“I called you because my dick is hard and I want to make you cum over the phone.”

She laughed again. “So, you don’t like me?”

“I like your pu**y.”

“So, the white roses and the “He’s just yelling at you because he knows you’re the best/Don’t let him get to you” note that was on the hood of my car today weren’t from you?”

I hung up.

Retraction (n.):

The legal withdrawal of a promise or offer of contract.

Andrew

“How do you think we should proceed with the client, Harriet?” I leaned back in my chair the next night, dreading my “Let the Interns Help with One Case per Month” required hours.

“Um, Mr. Hamilton...” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “My name is Hannah.”

“Same thing,” I said. “How do you think we should proceed with this case?”

“We could put his ex-wife on the stand. She could vouch for his character.”

“They were married for thirty days.” I rolled my eyes and looked at the intern sitting next to her. “And that was ten years ago. Bob, what do you have?”

“It’s...It’s actually Bryan.”

“It’s whatever I say it is. What. Do. You. Have?”

“I was doing some research on his background and he apparently was reprimanded for breaking his university’s fire wall his senior year. We could start there and build a case around his past of anarchy...”

I sighed. “He’s our client, Bryan. Why would we intentionally make him look bad?”

He blinked.

I turned toward the last intern in the room, a petite brunette. “What do you suggest?”

“You’re not going to try to guess my name?” She smiled.

“I just realized that you weren’t my janitor today. What do you have?”

“This.” She slid a folder across the table. “If we’re trying to prove that he wasn’t in breach of his company’s policies when he took out his initial shares, we could use this case as a reference.”

I opened the folder, reading the first line of a case that was not only over a hundred years old, but it had been overturned by the Supreme Court decades ago.

“Did you all smoke the same drugs before your interviews?” I shook my head. “You’re in law school. A few years away from potentially having someone’s future in your hands and this is the type of shit you come up with?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Hamilton...” Bryan spoke up. “Is there even a right answer to this question? I mean...Is this one of those ha-ha this was just a test to see how our minds work things? Is there really an answer?”

“Yes.” I stood up.

“Really? What is it?”

“It’s go the f**k home.” I started stacking my papers. “All of you. Right now.”

“But—”

“Now.” I glared at them, waiting until they all left the room.

The second I was alone I let out a sigh and sat down again. I was better off letting Jessica help me out on this case. She didn’t know shit about the law but I was sure that she would at least try.

“Mr. Hamilton, I—” Aubrey stepped into the room with a cup of coffee. “Where did everyone go?”

“Home.” I took the cup from her, frustrated. “You’re free to go, too.”

“Are you ever going to formally give me my intern position back or am I forever stuck being your coffee and file organizer?”

“You’re also in charge of taking phone calls. That’s a responsibility you shouldn’t take lightly.”

“I’m serious...” She rolled her eyes. “As much as I enjoy having sex with you every morning with your coffee, I would like to go back to feeling like I actually have a purpose here.”

“Fine.” I took a sip from my cup. “Have you been keeping up with my current case?”

She nodded.

“Great,” I said dryly. “How do you think I should proceed?”

“I think you need to first get ahold of the man who erased your client’s identity.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

She took a folder from her purse and set it in front of me. “My parents taught me how to research someone’s background very, very well. That’s the one thing I can credit them for.” She flipped a few pages. “Your client has school records from his childhood—test scores, address changes, et cetera. There’s a record of where he attended college, grad school—even a record of the time he broke into his school’s firewall and got suspended for an entire semester. After that, there’s a short failed marriage to some woman he met in Cabo, and a few founding records for his company. But after that—with the exception of these recent allegations, there’s nothing.”

I glanced at the pages.

“Don’t you think that’s odd?” She looked at me. “How you can google someone and nothing about them pops up? How you can search several databases for information and find entire decades are missing?”

I shut the folder. “It’s slightly odd.”

“Slightly?”

“Yes. Slightly. Is this all the evidence you have?”

“It’s all the evidence you need.” She stared into my eyes. “Find the guy who erased him, or find the guy who erased you and you might have yourself another win under your belt. If not—”

“Aubrey...”

“People don’t just come out of nowhere, Andrew,” she said. “You know that, I know that, and I’m pretty sure your client knows that.”

“Now we’re talking about the client?”

“There is no record of Andrew Hamilton in any of state’s registered lawyer databases.”

“I’m not facing a trial.”

“I called every law school in the state and pretended to be an alumna searching for a fellow alum and there was no record of an Andrew Hamilton getting his degree from any of them.”

“Are you that obsessed with me?” He smirked.

“I did the same thing for the law schools in New York. That was a bit trickier, but the results were just the same. There was no record of you going to school during the years you would’ve been in attendance.”