Pieces For You (31 page)

I was at Higher Yearning on Monday, working my usual shift, when I saw him through the front window approaching the shop.  Shit!  Meg had run to the bank on her lunch break, preventing me from ducking behind the counter.  The front door swung open, the chime announcing his arrival, and I watched my nemesis casually stride toward me as if he was a welcomed guest.  This man had a set of brass balls the size of an elephant’s.

I was tired and wrung dry.  I didn’t have the energy to be anxious about what his appearance meant or the threats he may direct at me.  I was a woman on the edge, driven there by men, and this particular man was about to pay the price.

“Mr. Black—Westly—I have never been accused of being subtle, but it appears you require more explicit instructions than most.  I do not want or need your client’s money.  Your threats are a waste of breath and my time.  I will be testifying and nothing short of death will dissuade me.  I am aware your client is considering that very possibility and you can tell him I said ‘go fuck yourself!’  I’ve already walked through Hell—trust me, death would be preferable to what your client’s son did to me.”  He flinched at my brutal honesty, but I wasn’t done with him. 

“I’m going to say this one last time, really slowly so you don’t miss it—Get. The. Fuck. Out.  Don’t ever come back.  You are no better than the scum you represent.  If you need to rack up billable hours, then drive here, sit in the parking lot, then leave.  Feel free to charge your client double—I won’t rat you out.  Do not, under any circumstances, approach me again.  If you do, I will hunt you down and run you over with my new Michelins.”

He stared at me in disbelief. 

“Was there anything ambiguous about
my
threat, Westly?  Any vagueness I need to clarify, or are we finally speaking the same language?”

“Message received.  You know, in the past two years as a defense attorney, I have been in the presence of criminals of every variety, including mobsters, gang bangers, and a serial killer—none of them were nearly as frightening as you were during your tirade.  I’m not sure if I’m terrified or turned on.” 

It was my turn to stare at him in disbelief.

“For what it’s worth…the only thr—” he caught himself, “cautions from my clients have come directly from me.  If you are receiving actual threats you should speak to the police.”

He turned on his heel and left with the same leisurely strut as when he entered.

I stared at the door, watching as he got into his Porsche Carrera and drove away.  When he was out of sight, I shrugged to myself.  Some people were beyond comprehension; I can’t imagine how that asshat could look himself in the mirror.

When I got home that night, I called Hunter to fill him in on the latest Mr. Black visit.  I knew Hunter wasn’t pleased with my brazen comments, but he didn’t editorialize beyond a few well-timed grunts and vexed exhales. 

“Do you think he’s telling the truth about the…the Varbecks?” I asked, knowing people rarely admitted criminal activities, but finding myself slightly persuaded by Mr. Black’s declaration of his client’s innocence.

“I doubt it.  We are still poring over their financial records, but we’ve already identified two questionable transactions we suspect were payoffs to witnesses.  Unfortunately, we can’t produce a solid connection and the witnesses aren’t talking.  I’m not giving up, but it’s an uphill battle in cases such as these,” Hunter said, before pausing.  His reluctance was enough warning for me to know I didn’t want to hear what came next.

“You should know Robbie’s family is pushing the D.A.’s office to charge Griffin with assault in the first degree.  That’s a felony and would likely result in jail time.  Given the circumstance, the D.A. is sympathetic to Griffin, but can’t ignore his actions completely.  If Robbie’s family backs off, the D.A. will allow Griff to plead guilty to assault in the third degree, which will only result in community service and a record.”

“What do I need to do?” I asked without hesitation.  Hunter didn’t directly ask me to intervene, but he wouldn’t have told me if there wasn’t some way for me to help.

“If you talk to the D.A. and tell the police about Robbie’s behavior, maybe request first degree assault charges be filed along with a restraining order—”

“So, if they back off Griffin, I will drop my complaint.  Gotcha.  I’ll call the D.A.’s office in the morning.”

“Great, thanks Sam.  He would never have asked.  Actually, he’s going to be furious when he finds out I asked on his behalf.”

“How is he?” I asked timidly. 

Hunter released a long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t want to step in the middle of this shit-show, Sam.  You are both acting like stubborn asses.  If you two want to know how the other is doing, then cut the crap and pick up the phone.  I love you both, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to lock you together in a room until your work this shit out.  You need to have a conversation–with each other, not me.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“I’ll consider your advice,” I said with sincerity.

The following morning I followed through on my promise and called the D.A.’s office.  The assistant D.A. seemed relieved to hear from me, promising to contact Robbie’s family and get back to me this week with an update.  He suggested I proceed with the restraining order, and considering my luck with men over the past year, I decided to take his advice.

Less than twenty-four hours later, I was surprised to find the same assistant D.A. standing before me at the Higher Yearning counter. 

“Miss Whitney, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person.  I’m Mark Stuart, we spoke on the phone yesterday.  Do you have a few minutes to spare?” he asked with a polite grin.

“Sure.  Why don’t you order a drink and I’ll join you in a moment?”

He nodded at me before turning to face Meg, a huge smile spread across his face.  Uh-oh, Meg had found an admirer.

“You didn’t need to come all the way down here, but thank you,” I said, once we had seated ourselves in a quiet corner.

“It’s no trouble.  I’ve heard how great the coffee is here for years; it was a good excuse to try it.”  He took a sip and hummed his approval.

“Do you mind if we cut to the chase since I’m still on the clock?  My manager understands, but I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Of course!  I wanted to let you know that Robbie’s family is amenable to Assault 3 for Griffin if Robbie escapes charges.  They also promised not to protest the restraining order.”

“Great.”

“I also wanted to verify that you will be testifying at the trial against Heath Varbeck.  We anticipate the deposition will occur in the next few weeks.  I understand you have been the subject of intimidation tactics, and I wanted to ensure you weren’t considering backing out.”

“You can count on me.  I won’t be changing my mind, no matter what they throw at me.  I will not allow
him
to get away with what he did.  If I have to speak for all the other girls who are too afraid to testify, then so be it.”

“Wonderful, I appreciate your commitment.  Your testimony is key since you were both a victim and you witnessed Robbie’s observation and admissions in regards to Mr. Varbeck’s guilt.  We will have you come in to prepare for the deposition.”

“Can I ask you one question that has been bothering me?”

“Sure.”

“Everleigh hasn’t been threatened and she’s the one
he
actually confessed to.  Why do you think that is?”

“Miss Carsen was deposed and her testimony submitted during the grand jury hearing.  Her account is already on record.  If something were to happen to her or if she were to back out of testifying at the trial, we could move to have that deposition from the grand jury hearing introduced into evidence.  It wouldn’t be as persuasive, but it would be sufficient.  Mr. Varbeck’s attorneys will undoubtedly attempt to attack her character and the veracity of her account.  That is why it is so important that we have your testimony as well.  The judge and jury could possibly call into question a single account, but with corroboration, the defense will be unsuccessful.”

Ah, it all made sense to me now.  I didn’t have any previous deposition or testimony that the D.A. could use in trial since I was in a coma and semi-catatonic during the grand jury.

He took another sip of his coffee.  “Wow, this really is great coffee.  The girl who served me was very helpful, too.  Very sweet.”

Was he fishing for a formal introduction after discussing prosecuting my rapist?  What the hell was wrong with men?

“Thank you again for taking the time to come here.  Please let me know when you need me to come in and I will clear my schedule.”

After shaking his hand, I returned to the counter and smirked at Meg.

“You have an admirer,” I said, nodding toward Mark.  “He was angling for an introduction, but I didn’t want to spring him on you.  He’s a 7.5, and I would guess he has a Bachelor’s but is studying for his Master’s.  You could definitely do better, but if you’re interested it would be a slam dunk.”

“You are terrible.  The poor guy—you are picking him apart like a vulture,” she said, unable to completely hide her laughter.

“Hey, as your tutor in the art of selecting the guaranteed O-man, it’s my job to dish the hard truths.  They aren’t always pretty.”

Meg rolled her eyes before muttering, “You are so bad.”

Before I knew it, it was Thursday—Thia Thursday.  I knew I must go since hiding wasn’t an option, but I hadn’t made any significant progress in sorting through my emotions, separating past from present, or discerning justifiable responses from projections.  In truth, I wasn’t any closer to finding the clarity Thia had challenged me to pursue.  I didn’t want to disappoint her, but at least today I could honestly say I had
tried
.  I was no longer using distractions as an escape.  I spent every minute outside of work stewing in the mysteries that were my convoluted brain. 

I arrived at Thia’s office and settled into a chair in the reception area.  Five minutes after my appointed time, I stood and collected my belongings.  I was tempted to just leave, embarrassed by her rejection, but she deserved a ‘thank you’ for the time she had invested.  I only had to knock once on her closed office door before she opened it and smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

“Come in.”

“Hi.  I’m here.”

“So I see.  Do you have all the answers?”

I shook my head, ready for her censure, but instead she laughed.

“Of course you don’t, I never expected you to have it all sorted out in a matter of days.  You’ve been trying though…I can tell.”

“I have tried, but it’s a tangled mess.  I did gain a pound so at least I accomplished one objective.”

She tssked, “You’re still too skinny.”

I settled into my chair and noticed a foil-wrapped plate on the coffee table in front of me.  Thia sat across from me and handed me a tray with a napkin, fork, and knife before uncovering the plate and placing it on the tray.  In front of me was a huge plate of homemade spaghetti and meatballs with filleto di pomodoro sauce. 

“You made this for me?”

“I thought you might need a little help.”

She was feeding me.  She made this delicious lunch for me—with her own hands—because she had faith that I would return.  She believed in me—I was totally her favorite.  With a big smile, I loaded my fork and stuffed my mouth.  Oh damn, it was delicious.

“We’ll have to shuck social conventions for today and allow you to talk with your mouth full.  Tell me about your week.”

Between bites I shared the events of the week.  Thia was pleased to learn that I had intervened on Griffin’s behalf and that I followed through on the restraining order against Robbie.

“Are you going to talk with Griffin?”

“What’s the point, Thia?  It’s been two weeks and he has made
zero
effort to talk to me.  You were convinced he would want the opportunity to explain and apologize—looks like you were wrong.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s embarrassed?”

I thought of Griffin’s face after the one-sided fight.  He looked defeated and devastated.  Those feelings could have transformed into embarrassment in the days that followed, once he had time to appreciate what he had done.