I gently slide her to the side and head over to my laptop. I spin it around so the speaker faces out. Kennedy heads over, wearing nothing but my jacket, and I refrain from telling her it’s a good look. I hit play and hope for the best.
“I made the delivery, and I saw his brother. I wrote down all the details for you. There’s enough to nail him to a wall.”
“Alright. I think I’m locked and loaded and ready to go. I can’t wait to bring this bastard down.Caleb McCarthy won’t know what hit him.”
Kennedy’s face shines like marble in this dull light. I can see the word “no” forming on her lips as she shakes her head. Her eyes flash to mine like dimes.
“What’s this about, Kennedy?” I want to wrap my arms around her, but there’s a rising tension in the air that weighs me down, heavy as lead.
Kennedy takes a breath and holds it. She lifts her chin. Her body straightens like a rod as if she has a new sense of resolve.
“It looks as if I’ve finally been caught red-handed.” She tilts her head back and inhales the oxygen right out of the room. “I did it, Caleb. I’ve been fucking with you all along. Just like you’ve been fucking Zoey. I don’t take too kindly to cheaters. Looks like you had to find out the hard way.”
Kennedy picks up her purse and strides out of the office wearing nothing but my jacket and the heels I demanded she keep on. Her dress lies limp on the ground, and I swipe it up burying my face in it a moment. I stagger to the window and face the swelling city pumping below like a heartbeat and wonder what the hell just happened.
In the morning, after a night of tossing and turning on the uncomfortable sofa in my office, I shower in the gym downstairs, put on what’s left of my wrinkled suit and head to the Morris Township Courthouse. I double park, and run up the steps holding my briefcase to the menacing muscleman in a security uniform.
“Stop right where you are!” he shouts, one hand on his weapon.
“I’m an attorney!” I fire back as I burst into the courtroom, and my eyes fall on a set of familiar faces, my mother, my father, my two very paranoid looking brothers.
“He didn’t do it!” I roar as I stop just shy of council. “He was with me,” I say, looking the judge dead in the eye. “He was never even in the fucking car.”
Solomon closes his eyes, and, for a brief moment, I see the distinct look of relief.
Sometimes, we only think we want to be the hero.
I wonder if that’s what it’s been all along with Kennedy and me.
Something in me stubbornly insists on being her hero.
You Can’t Handle the Truth
Kennedy
Loveless changes seasonslike a magician performing a rudimentary party trick. One minute you’re staring at the black hole of fall, and, the next, it’s holding up the white rabbit of winter.
The first snow of the season peppers the evergreens, frosting them with a dusting, soft as confectioners sugar. Last winter brought storms that gusted over ten feet of powder at a time. We had to dig our way into spring—they did, I was safely down the mountain at Yeats, blissfully unaware of the personal blizzard the next few months would bring me. At that point, I was already all but done with Keith—plotting how I would somehow spend my summer with Caleb and then the unthinkable began to happen, someone was toying with me, with Keith, and it felt dangerous. I quit school and went home. Then Caleb showed up in Loveless as a friend of the friendless—helping the helpless, pulling the downtrodden out of their hairy, dark pits, and I grew increasingly, ridiculously jealous. I didn’t want him to take on Gavin Jackson’s case. I didn’t want him going after Demi and saving her. I wanted him to take me on, save me from myself. I was whiny and selfish and decided to punish him by offering a cold shoulder—and for what? Keeping his promise to come back for me? Everyone seems to have a reason to be upset with me these days, and, after abandoning him in his office, for sure, Caleb does. Hell, I’m pretty pissed at me, too.
Caleb didn’t come home yesterday. I stalked his driveway from the upstairs window, getting up at all hours to see if the lights were on, but nothing. I had spilled a lie at his feet, slick as oil—force-fed it down his throat. I hated myself for it, but, deep down, I knew it was the right thing. Sometimes the only thing that can truly set you free is a good old-fashioned lie—only I wasn’t setting myself free, I was freeing Caleb.
I shower and dress and head down for coffee so I can figure out how in the hell to handle the rest of my life.
A murmur of voices fill the front hall, and I get to the base of the stairs to find my mother, father, and sister all locked in a heated conversation.
It’s like I hit replay on a scene that just panned out a few weeks ago.
“What the hell’s going on?”
Kam smirks. Her hair is both longer and shinier than mine, her lace up thigh high boots far cuter than the ones I’m sporting, and that longstanding superficial part of me is actually pissed by this.
“We’re here to try to save your neck once and for all.” She spits it out as if she’s not. “What the hell is with you anyway?”
“What did I do now?” I head over and join their unholy huddle.
My father’s chest expands with his next breath. He looks to the ceiling a moment as if to rein in his rage. “You sent out a press release detailing the fact Solomon McCarthy wasn’t driving the car the day he supposedly killed a man. And, by doing so, you incriminated his brother—your so-called-boyfriend. If this is true, it means Caleb perjured himself when he gave his statement. You realize they’re going to suspend his license at best. Please tell me this wasn’t you, Ken.”
My sister huffs as if she knows better. “Please stop priming her for another lie.” She looks to me. “Go ahead Ken, you’re used to spewing half-truths. And where the hell is that other boyfriend of yours? If this escalates to murder, you’re going to fry in hell for this.”
