The Victim (14 page)

A south Floridian born before 1950 would still speak with a drawl. The Florida accent wasn’t as twangy as other southern dialects, but it had become watered down due to the influx of northerners.

“
What about growing up here?”

“
I went to FIU. I lived on South Beach right after college, pretty much until I met Daniella. I’ve partied my fair share. But then, I dunno. I just sorta outgrew it. A guy in his thirties hanging around these clubs seems a bit pathetic to me. So while I don’t go out every weekend and order bottles and do the private table thing, I can still put the drinks away. Believe me, two martinis wouldn’t so much as give me a buzz.”

“
What about drugs?”

“
What about ’em?”

“
Had you taken any drugs that night?”

“
Nope.”

“
Okay. So you were stone-cold sober. What happened?”

“
Hold up. I didn’t say I was stone-cold sober. I just said that two martinis wouldn’t get me drunk. But after about midnight, I can’t remember a thing. You ever black out and everything comes back to you in snippets? You know what I mean?”

“
I know what you mean.”

“
Why does any of this matter anyway?”

“
It matters because if you were impaired by drugs or alcohol, I can sell you to a prosecutor as a first-time offender who needs substance abuse counseling, not prison.”

His complexion ran pale—an unearthly shade of whitish-gray. A pallor bestowed only upon the accused.

“
Am I going to prison?”

“
I don’t know,” Anton said, trying to employ his best bedside manner. While he wanted to comfort his client he didn’t want to give him false hope either. All too often attorneys promised the moon and stars to a client when getting them to sign on the dotted line and whip out their checkbook. Anton had to exude confidence, but he couldn’t let his client believe that he possessed the magic wand that so many believed was implicit in a five-figure legal fee. “You’re technically facing a maximum of life in prison with a minimum sentence of five years as things stand now. But I’m working on Daniella. She might want to drop the charges—”

“
Wait, wait, wait. She’s actually thinking of going forward with this bullshit?”

Bullshit?
Anton thought about the marks on Daniella’s neck.

“
Hold on a second. There’s evidence that a crime occurred. She’s got some serious bruising on her neck. The cops who came to her apartment got into it with you. She says you got physical with them and they took you down.”

He ran his fingers along his stitches, blankly staring at the table as if trying to figure out how the injury occurred.

“
You gotta believe me. I don’t remember any of this. I swear.”

Anton closed his eyes, held up his palm. “Fine. I believe you. You don’t remember anything. But that’s not a defense.”

“
I would never put my hands on her. You gotta believe that.”

Under normal circumstances Anton could believe that Bryan Avery was not a violent man. But a failing marriage and too many martinis can send the mind into dark places. The part of the subconscious that renders a person physically and mentally able to kill.

“
As far as priors go, I believe it. No previous history of domestic violence between you guys. No criminal history for you at all, which will help us out in the long run. But you gotta understand that what you’re charged with is non-bondable. That means you have to sit in here until I can get you out.”

Frustration welled in Bryan’s eyes. “Can you do one thing for me, please?”

“
Sure. What’s that?”

He sniffled. A lone tear broke off and rolled down his cheek. “Just tell Daniella that I love her and I’m sorry. Whatever happened, whatever I may have done. Just tell her I’m sorry.”

CHAPTER 14

Anton stepped into the house with purpose, grabbed Gina away from the overflowing dishes in the sink and dipped her, planting a kiss on her lips like he’d just come home from war.

She righted herself up, and cocked her brow, more intrigued than put off.

“
What’s gotten into you?”

Samson buried his face in Anton’s crotch. He rubbed behind his ears and bladed his body, redirecting the dog’s attention.

“
Me? What’s gotten into me? Why nothing at all.”

Charley was seated on her rubber play mat adorned with bright smiling Disney characters, her chubby little legs a ‘V,’ sucking on her pacifier, trying to figure out how to stack a set of thick plastic donuts onto a little post.

Anton grabbed her under her arms and swooped her into the air. She burst out in a giggle, spewing her pacifier across the floor. Samson stealthily usurped it, recoiling into his spot on the sofa, pinning it between his paws, gnawing away.

Anton cradled his baby girl and kissed her head. She smiled at him, exposing her two bottom teeth. The top two were budding, the gums red and puffy. She reached for his hair and tugged a handful.

“
No, no, no,” he corrected, pulling her hand away, which she immediately shot back, little fingers wiggling, struggling for another grab.

“
You can’t reason with a nine-month-old,” Gina reminded him, placing upturned glasses in the top row of the dishwasher.

“
You’re not giving me enough credit. I was very persuasive in my closing yesterday.”

“
Jurors have common sense.”

“
You’ve never tried a case in front of a Miami jury before, have you?” He set Charley down. She eagerly returned to figuring out the whole donut-stacking thing. He snatched the pacifier from Samson, picked up the chewed-up bits of plastic and rubber and tossed them in the trash. “Can you be ready in an hour?”

Gina looked over her shoulder, wiped her blonde hair away from her face. Her hands were pruned and blanched white.

“
What?”

“
I texted Emily on the way home. She can babysit tonight. Date night! Get out of Parkland, perhaps? Las Olas? Maybe Johnny V? An actual night out at a restaurant with no highchair or puffs being thrown on the floor. What do you say?”

“
What’s the occasion? It’s a weeknight.”

Anton smirked, tightlipped. Gina called it his
sneaky lawyer face
. He opened his wallet, unfolded the check. He held it out close enough for her to read the numbers.

Her jaw dropped. “Are you fucking with—” She winced, realizing her slip of the tongue only feet away from her daughter. “
Messing
with me?”

He folded the check and returned it to his wallet. He’d been looking to make sure it was still there the whole drive home, as if it could self-destruct any minute. He would have deposited it, slipping it through the drive-thru ATM, but he didn’t want to appear that eager.

“
I’m not messing with you. New case, domestic burg-batt. Wife hired me, saw the client in jail. It’s a done deal.”

Gina wrapped her arms around him. Her wet soapy hands seeped into his shirt.

“
Oh my God, that’s amazing!” She kissed him hard. “I’m so proud of you! That’s an
amazing
fee!”

He looked around the house, taking mental notes of the upgrades they’d been putting off. New TV, no doubt. Sixty-five-inch LCD with full Internet capabilities. New shutters. New front door. Pavers on the driveway.

But for now, a long overdue dinner with his wife.

***

It was a far cry from her mom uniform of black yoga pants and baggy shirt. She came out of the bathroom in her tight True Religion jeans—her
sexy butt jeans
, she’d always called them. She wore a smile across her face Anton hadn’t seen in almost nine months.

“
Still fit!” She lifted up her shirt to show him the waist, twirling, catching glances of herself in the mirrored closet doors. “What do ya think?”

Anton wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her on the lips.

“
I think you look amazing.”

Anton greased his hands up with pomade and did the fresh-out-of-bed thing with his hair. He threw on his dark Banana Republic jeans and a blue and white vertically striped dress shirt he normally reserved for court. He unbuttoned the cuffs and folded them back.

Gina prepared two bottles and got out a jar of pureed butternut squash and Charley’s favorite Minnie Mouse spoon, warped from resting against a hot frying pan in the sink. Gina showed Emily, their neighbor’s nineteen-year-old daughter, where the diapers and wipes were stored, gave explicit instructions on bedtime routine, feeding schedule, and Tylenol dosage before writing down both her and Anton’s cell numbers on a whiteboard on the kitchen wall.

Anton was waiting by the door, her purse in his hand. “You ready?” Gina had the pensive gaze of a mother rummaging her brain for any contingency she had not discussed with the babysitter. “She’s watched Charley before.”

“
I know. It’s just been a few months.”

A stark reminder of how desperately they needed this night out.

***

Johnny V was a popular bar and restaurant that catered to an older, more sophisticated after-work crowd. Situated on Las Olas Boulevard, the evening regulars were beginning to meander in to catch the last forty-five minutes of happy hour drink specials. The downtown Fort Lauderdale corporate types, loosening their ties and blowing off steam with a few cocktails. The first dates, sitting at the bar, forcing conversation with plastered-on smiles. A group of obvious divorcees huddled around a table topped with fruity-looking martinis, poured into jeans that didn’t fit, trying to look twenty years younger. They sipped from their straws and glanced around the room with stiff Botoxed expressions.

Anton and Gina walked in, hand-in-hand, and looked around the semi-crowded dining room. The hostess led them to their table and a waiter arrived taking drink orders. He returned with Gina’s iced tea and Anton’s pint of Harp. The soft ambient glow of the restaurant and the din of conversation lulled him into a state of relaxation.

“
So?”

He sipped the foamy head off his beer. “So what?”

“
So…whatcha thinkin’?”

“
Thinking you and I need to do this more often.”

She smiled and brushed the bangs out of her face. “I wore bangs tonight. You like?”

“
I do.”

She popped her thumbs under her earlobes. “And I wore those earrings you bought me for Christmas.”

“
They look great.”

She took a long sip before asking, “Are you happy?”

“
Huh?”

“
Happy. I dunno. We go through the day-to-day bull—” Instinctively she stopped herself until she realized there were no children around. “—bullshit without ever stopping to consider whether we’re happy.”

“
I’m happy now.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Not
happy
as in right this very minute. I mean happy in general. Happy with your life as a whole.”

Half a beer on an empty stomach and he could feel the faint onset of a buzz.

“
Of course.”

“
That’s the conditioned response. Seriously. Think about the question before you answer it.”