Page 113 of Surrogate For My Best Friend’s Man 2

There was the warning. “I’ll be out.”

“That’s what my lawyer is going to work on.” Scambino stood. “Tomorrow. Listen more than you talk.”

I smirked. “Everybody keeps telling me that.”

“Maybe because you don’t do it.” Then he was gone. I stayed sitting there thinking, some new lawyer I’d never met was coming tomorrow. And Scambino had officially put his hands into my case. Whatever was happening outside was bigger than Rell had been telling me or more expensive.

Alisha missed my next court date. I noticed the second they brought me into the courtroom. I always looked for her. I wouldn't admit that shit to nobody, but I did. Even when she wouldn’t look at me, I knew where she sat. Sometimes Grandma was beside her, sometimes she came alone. But she came but that day, her seat was empty. I kept looking toward the doors like she might walk in late, but she never did.

The hearing wasn’t even about much. Scheduling, some shit with discovery, and officially getting Mark removed from the case. I barely heard half of it. Afterward, I tried calling but got no answer. The county recording probably didn’t even finish before she declined that shit.

That pissed me off, but more than that, it bothered me. Shante hadn’t said anything about Alisha knowing, grandma hadn’t either. Still, something had changed. Alisha had gone from showing up to court even though she wasn’t fucking with me to not showing up at all. She wasn’t taking my calls and Rell said he hadn’t seen much of her. Shante said the same.

Even Grandma admitted Alisha hadn’t been around like usual. I knew my wife. When Alisha got loud, you still had a chance. When she got quiet that was different. I called one more time before lockdown but she declined the call. “Fuck.” I yelled before I handed the phone off.

Maybe she was done. The thought had been sitting in my head for weeks, but that was the first time I let myself really think it. Three days later, I got called for an attorney visit. This time, I already knew it wasn’t family. I walked into the room and found a white dude sitting at the table with two thick folders in front of him.

Late forties, maybe early fifties. Dark hair going gray around the sides. Expensive suit, no tie and a gold watch. He looked Italian before he even opened his mouth.

He stood. “Anthony Moretti.” Detroit accent, not heavy, but there.

I sat down. “So you Scambino’s miracle worker?”

Moretti looked at me for about two seconds. “First thing we’re gonna do is stop saying stupid shit in rooms where conversations can be recorded.”

Well damn I thought to myself, he sat back down. “I see why he sent you.”

“I’m not here to entertain you, Deuce.”

“I figured.”

Moretti opened the first folder. “I’m also not here to bullshit you.”

I leaned back, this muthafucka had been sitting there thirty seconds and already had an attitude. I kinda liked him. Moretti didn’t waste time he started laying out what the government had. Records connected to my trucking company vehicle information, phone records, surveillance, financial transactions they were trying to connect to shipments. Statements from people they’d interviewed, the guns recovered during the stop, photos, dates, names and routes. More shit than Mark had ever sat down and explained to me at one time.

“They’re trying to establish that the legitimate trucking operation provided cover for illegal transportation.” Moretti said.

“I know what they’re trying to say.”

“I’m not interested in what they’re trying to say. I’m interested in what they can prove.” He let me know. He flipped another page. “Right now, they have enough to make your life extremely uncomfortable. They do not have enough for me to sit here and tell you you’re finished.”

That was the first decent shit I’d heard since getting locked up.

“They’re also still building.” He said.

“Against me?”

“Against everybody.” Moretti closed the folder. “Which means I need the truth before they find something I don’t know about.”

“You got the discovery.”

“I have what the government has disclosed.” He leaned forward. “That’s not the same thing.” I watched him. “Is there anything about this investigation I need to know that isn’t in these files?”

“No.”

He gave me that look like I was on bullshit, “What?” I asked.

“I’m waiting.”