Page 21 of Motion to Dismiss

“Oh?” He furrows his brow. “You’re taken, aren’t you? I mean, I’m not the slightest bit surprised, but⁠—”

“I’m very much single.” I interrupt him. “I don’t have any ties to anyone.”

“Well, in that case, can I treat you to lunch sometime?”

“I would like that.”

“Perfect. I know a place down the street.” He extends his hand, and I shake my head.

“Wait a minute. You mean lunch now?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I have a ‘W’ last name, too, so it’ll be a while before we get our turns.”

“I don’t want to risk them switching things up halfway through the auditions…”

“They won’t.” He steps closer. “But even if they do, everyone here knows ‘Scarlett Winters’ is going to land something.”

“You don’t have to flatter me,” I say. “I already agreed to have lunch with you.”

“I’m giving you the facts,” he says, clasping my hand. “You’ve made quite an impression at the theaters so far. Everyone is whispering about you.”

“If that’s even halfway true, why haven’t I gotten any callbacks?”

“I don’t know,” he says, “but I’m pretty sure that’ll change this week.”

“If it doesn’t, can I stomp on you for getting my hopes up?”

“Sure.” His smile is infectious. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”

RACKETEERING (N.):

THE FEDERAL CRIME OF CONSPIRING TO ORGANIZE TO COMMIT CRIMES, PARTICULARLY AS A REGULAR BUSINESS ("ORGANIZED CRIME" OR "THE MAFIA")

JAMESON

Nate

Mr. Hunter decided to wait until 4 p.m. for arraignment, sir.

He let me handle a few things, but he wants YOU representing him in court. Not me.

Igroan as I steer my car into the courthouse’s parking lot.

Grabbing my briefcase, I take a breath before stepping out into bullshit.

“Mr. Tate!” “Did you know about the federal investigation or were these indictments a surprise?” “What’s going on with the attempted murder charges?”

Reporters surround me, shouting questions they know I’ll never answer.

I pull a pair of sunglasses over my eyes and continue walking, ignoring them.

When I near the front doors, a familiar security guard moves behind me.

“He’s clearly not answering anything,” he bellows. “Back off the steps, please.”

“Thank you,” I say to him.

“Anytime, Mr. Tate.”