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“You always say the most romantic things,” I chuckle.
“Don’t act like that didn’t turn you on a little bit.”
She knows me too well. “Oh, it did. It definitely did.” I wrap my arms around her waist and yank her back into bed. Harley laughs loudly, only cut off when I seal my lips to hers in a deep kiss.
“You know,” she says, breathlessly pulling away. “I have a good idea about how to get rid of some of your nerves.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah…” Harley’s hand sneaks below the covers toward my groin. “Can I show you?”
“Yes, please,” I say with a sigh of pleasure.
Harley knows just the way to make me forget all my worries.
* * *
The trialso far has been going swimmingly. As this is a bench trial, the only person whose opinion matters is the judge. And so far, I think my lawyers are doing a great job of making our case.
“Exhibit C,” Francis explains to the judge, pointing at the image on the screen. “This is the check that the plaintiff gave the defendant.”
“Read it, please, counselor,” the judge encourages.
“Pay to the order of Grant Neville the sum of fifty thousand dollars. Signed Malcolm Jenkins.” Francis gestures to the bottom left corner of the image. “The memo reads, ‘Don’t go spending it all in one place,’ with a written emoticon of a winking face.”
Those in the gallery chuckle. Malcolm glares back at them. Behind him sits Aileen. She looks as elegant as ever, skin pulled taut from who knows how many cosmetic surgeries. Her upkeep must be quite expensive.
The judge hits his gavel. “Order, order.” But I can see a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“In all seriousness, Your Honor, this suggests that this gift, while enormous, was one of friendly generosity. There is nothing that suggests this money must be utilized for the plaintiff’s own capital gain.”
Malcolm rustles in his seat. He looks less like an honorable businessman and more like a kid who should probably run to use the bathroom.
Francis continues to explain the exhibits we’ve presented to the court including email communications I shared with Malcolm after he gifted me the money. The friendliness and lack of gravity in the exchanges only support my case that this was a gift. Not an investment.
When it comes time for witness testimony, Malcolm’s lawyers call me, for some godforsaken reason, Aileen, and then Malcolm. I am cordial with the lawyer examining me but don’t have much to offer him.
It isn’t until Malcolm’s cross-examination that things get interesting.
“Mr. Jenkins, can you attest that you wrote this check?” Francis asks, holding up the baggie containing the original check. Thank god I’ve kept such detailed records over the years.
Sour-faced Malcolm shrugs. “I don’t know. I write a lot of checks.”
“Can you at least say this is your signature?”
“It looks like my signature, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone has used it for their own personal gain.”
I clutch the arms of my chair, restraining myself from making an angry grunt. This is ridiculous. This petulant fuckhead is going to do whatever he can to get his way. Until the very last second, I’m sure.
“Lucky for you, we have a side-by-side comparison. Maybe this will help you jog your memory.” Francis points up to the screen. “This was your signature on the court documents from this morning. And this is your signature from the check. Would you say this is your signature, Mr. Jenkins?”
As the court waits for his answer, I’m distracted by the sound of a door squeaking open. I turn around and am shocked when my eyes land on Kent Solace standing at the back of the gallery. He’s trying to sneak in quietly and clearly didn’t anticipate the door betraying his covertness. “Sorry,” I see him mouth to the bailiff near the door. He slips into the back row, and just before he sits, his eyes meet mine. I’d wave if I could. In fact, I’d run to him and give him a great big bear hug. I had no idea he was coming, but there is no doubt in my mind, he’s here to support me.
It must have taken a lot to put everything aside to be here.
“Yes, that’s my signature, I guess,” Malcolm finally says gruffly with a roll of his eyes.
“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. No further questions.”
