“Right. Okay. So, what do I do?”
“First up, let’s swing back to my earlier question. How are you doing?”
“Do you really need me to answer that?” I raise an eyebrow, and he laughs.
“No, I can probably guess. I’ll get right to it then. You’re being charged with trespassing and battery, which in the state of Florida, could earn you up to a year in jail.”
“Fuck. That’s-—”
“The law. But…” He pauses, and I lean forward, my entire future riding on hisbut. “In your case, both charges are bullshit. I’ve spoken to your girlfriend, and of course, Tim—Mr. Stevens—who have both advised me they were present at the time of the incident.”
My heart jolts at his use of the term girlfriend. Only a few days ago, I wanted that more than anything. But now, look what I’ve dragged her into. Again.
“Blair claims that Ron only asked you to leaveoncebefore baiting you to fight him. If this is true, and he did that while still on his property, it will be hard for the prosecutor to make the trespassing charge stick. If he truly wanted you to leave, he wouldn’t be asking you to fight him. On top of that, you grew up in that home, so it’s easy to argue that you weren’t aware it was trespassing at all.”
“Okay, do you think that will work?”
“If the judge is a decent human.”
“And the battery charge? I hit him first, but he shoved Blair aside and—”
“I know. Both Blair and Tim have filled me in on their version of the events and assured me that their police statements reflect the same. Tim also brought up the fact that your dad was choking you when he arrived, and insisted I make sure the police took it seriously. He seemed quite distressed about it. Can I see your neck? The prosecutor will argue it was self-defense on your dad’s part, but it’s still worth noting the effects it had on you.”
Jesus. I don’t even remember that happening. I can’t remember much between Blair falling and the sirens blaring. Regardless, I still tug at my collar, moving it lower to give Simon a look at my neck.
“Fuck.” His eyes widen. “Did you show that to the officers who questioned you?”
“Show them what?”
Rather than telling me what he’s talking about, Simon makes a show of grabbing his phone and taking a photo of my throat, frowning when he turns the image my way. And I react the exact same way he did.
“Fuck.” My eyes widen. I have a bright red stain across my neck, the pattern easily identifiable as hand prints. “I—” I pause. Telling him that I was so dead inside I didn’t even feel it is probably not the best form of defense. “Can that help my case?”
“It certainly doesn’t hurt. Going by the photos of your dad’s face, this is far worse. Not that it negates his self-defense story, but with Blair’s testimonial, it doesn’t look good.”
An image of Blair as she takes to the stand has my stomach heaving, and I fight not to beg him to keep her out of it. I hate the thought of her having to relive everything that’s happened. And if I know my dad, he’s going to mention my sister, so they won’t have a choice.
“Do you think it will go to trial?” I ask, my chest tight with trepidation.
Simon sighs before running through the details of the initial hearing and the next steps. And while he says he’s hoping for a dismissal of all charges, it does nothing to change my mood, since he doesn’t really get the chance to argue the case. Not at this stage. No matter what, the prosecutor is still going to bring up that fact that barely four hours before the “alleged” assault, I was in here being questioned over the death of my teammate, after slamming his head into the fucking pavement. It’s not easy to argue my innocence with those facts staring you in the face.
When it’s obvious my best shot is a miracle, darkness works its way back into my head. And when Simon excuses himself to take an “urgent” call, I welcome his departure. What’s the point of him hanging around? There’s not much he can do right now. And he knows it.
“I’m going to do everything I can to help, Zane.” He covers the speaker with his hand and smiles sympathetically. “You have to trust me.”
I nod, and he moves the phone back to his ear, letting the door slam shut on his way out.
The loud bang is like a metaphor for my life, seconds away from exploding into nothing. I know I’m supposed to be thinking positively and keeping my spirits up. But maybe it would be easier on everyone else if I was gone, once and for all. Maybe then they could move on.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Blair
With every passing hour, a little bit more of my fight dies. Realistically, I know we can’t do anything for Zane at one in the morning, but I can’t help thinking about him stuck in that cell while his parents are at home, most likely having a peaceful night’s sleep.
“His own fucking parents.”
No matter how many times I say that out loud, it never gets any more believable. I will never understand how anyone could do that to someone they were supposed to love.
