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“But the thing is, he never got credit for his work—outside of word of mouth from people who knew the details, you know?” She paused. “But anyway, from what I’ve read and pieced together, it seems like he was falsely accused of a laundry list of federal charges a few years later.”
“Aubrey…”
“It looks like everyone ran with the story—all of the papers, all of the news outlets, and the truth wasn’t filtered until months later, after his name was already tarnished.”
I stared at her, begging her to stop, but she continued.
“The charges are still pending against his old partner to this day, that’s just how many there were. But him—this upstanding lawyer with one hell of a track record, he just vanished. Into thin air.”
“If he was that upstanding, then I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“It is,” I said.
“I thought that, too…” She searched my eyes for answers. “But I think the guy I’m talking about is capable of anything.”
“What are the names in this case you’re speaking of?”
“The accused is Kevin Hart, and the key witness is Liam Henderson.”
“I’ll google it tonight.” I sighed, not wanting to continue this conversation.
A voice came over the speakers, announcing our stop, and I took her hand again.
“I know you made me agree to stipulations,” I said, looking at her as we stepped off, “but can you agree to one of mine?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Ask me the deep conversation questions after dinner.”
“Is that where we’re going right now?”
“No.” I led her up the steps. “I wouldn’t dare. I don’t want you accusing me of treating you like all my other dates.”
“Does that mean you won’t f**k me at the end?”
“It means I won’t leave you at the end.”
She blushed, and I kissed her forehead as we walked through the streets of flashing lights and sparkling billboards.
She didn’t say much of anything else as we moved from block to block, only blushing each time I looked at her.
“Here,” I said, stopping her as we approached our first destination.
“Broadway?” She looked up at the grand marquis.
“You mentioned you haven’t had the chance to come here yet,” I said. “I used to come here all the time when I lived here…”
“All the time?”
“At least once a week.” I held the door open for her. “Twice when this particular play was performed.” I ran my fingers across the words, Death of a Salesman, before handing our tickets to the usher.
She smiled as he led us to the private balcony, as he offered us complimentary wine since we were so early.
“I would’ve never taken you for the drama type,” she said, taking a sip from her glass. “You’ve never mentioned that to me before.”
“I actually almost went to theater school instead of law school.”
