Page 22 of Final Verdict
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“I needed a particular pair of shoes for an—” I choke before the word “audition” can leave my lips. “For an event. A potential life-changing event, and they cost about two thousand two hundred dollars more than what I had on my card, so I borrowed them.”
“That’s grand larceny in the fourth degree.”
“Are you planning to turn me in?”
“I should.”
Silence.
My chest tightens at the mere thought of him doing that—at the thought of my father getting a call, and before I can plead for him not to, his low laughter sifts over the line.
The sound of it eases me for a moment.
“Is that all you wanted to do to me?” I ask. “Judge me?”
“I’d like to do a lot more to you than that, Scarlett.”
“What did you just say?”
“I don’t judge anyone for their crimes,” he says. “That’s part of being a defense attorney.”
“That’s not what you said, Jameson.”
“Then I’m glad you heard me…” There’s a smile in his voice. “We should talk in person about your loan situation.”
“Why?” I swallow, unsure of how he even found out about that, why he even cares.
“I honestly don’t know,” he says. “But I can tell when someone’s in serious trouble, and in your case, I can’t seem to stop thinking about you—I mean ‘it,’ so…”
He doesn’t finish that sentence.
“So, you’re just willing to help me out of the kindness of your heart?”
“What’s left of it,” he says. “For something small in return, of course.”
Of course.“I’m not fucking you or sucking your dick in exchange for legal help.”
“I honestly think you’d do both of those things to me for free.” He sounds amused. “I have a few female clients who are in their late twenties, early thirties—around your age—and I may need you to answer some mock trial questions for me here and there.”
“That’s it?”
“Unless you want me to send you an invoice that’ll never get paid.”
“No, that’s okay. I appreciate the help. Thank you.”
“What day next week works for you?”
“I can’t do next week,” I say. “Or the week after. I have a lot of things on my schedule.”
“Well, text me when you have a date for that.”
“Okay.”
Tension lingers on the line, and I struggle for something to say.
“Hang up the phone, Scarlett,” he says. “This conversation is over.”
