“You won’t need Tony’s Pizza to feel satisfied in your soul again. Believe in Me. God withyou.”
33
MATT
JULY
SEA BLUE BEACH
Between long days of filming, putting his house on the market and moving to his new-old Hollywood Hills place, Matt had yet to call Booker. Not to worry, Harlow gently reminded every few calls.
She was doing killer with her weight loss. Down twenty-five pounds since early May.
Now, after umpteen delays, Matt was in Sea Blue Beach for his court date. “What’s our play here, bugsy?” Matt’s weak James Cagney imitation did not amuse Bodie.
“Our play here is you being cool,” Bodie whispered as the jurors filed into the jury box. “Humble.”
“Pass me a fork and a plate of crow.”
“Don’t play up your celebrity. Look sober and dignified.”
“And a side of humble pie.”
“Judge Harris is serious but fair. The state believes they havean open-and-shut case, having so many eyewitnesses between the diner and rink. But I’ll make them doubt what they saw.”
The case continued to make news, but more in a Matt-Knight-defends-his-grandmother’s-honor kind of way. He’d suspected his former publicist Amelia had a hand in spinning the details. She always had a soft spot for him. This morning, fans gathered outside the courthouse withFree Matt Knightsigns.
“We’re cheering for you, Matt.”
“We love you, Matt Knight.”
“Justice will prevail!”
“Free Matt Knight. Free Matt Knight.”
Dad entered the courtroom, wearing his blue work shirt and jeans, his hair combed back, his shoulders square. Next to him, Granny sat straight with her chin raised, and gave Matt two thumbs up. Where was Harlow? She said she’d be here.
Seeing Dad and Granny messed with him more than he thought it would. They deserved better from him. He deserved better for himself. This wasn’t the set of a movie, a role to play. This was his real life. With real consequences.
“Remember, Matt,” Bodie said. “Sober and dignified.”
There was no need to remind him. James Cagney joking aside, sobriety wrapped every part of him.
Matt’s original approach had been to pretend he was on the set of a police drama, playing the part of a man unjustly accused. But seeing Dad and Granny, the judge, the somber faces of the jurors, he could be nothing but regular Matt Knight, vulnerable and a bit scared. Honestly, he’d earned his way into this mess fair and square.
Tapping Bodie’s arm, he leaned in. “I’m going to confess.”
“No, you’re not. With a first-degree misdemeanor charge, you could get up to a year in jail. Don’t you listen to anything I tell you? Now sit back and be quiet.”
The judge entered, and the case of the State of Florida versus Matt Knight was in session. He glanced back at Dad.Where’s Harlow?He shook his head with a shrug.
The assistant state attorney, Marvin Moore, delivered impassioned opening remarks about allowing those who think they are above the law to get away with small infractions while the common man pays the price. “A misdemeanor today means a felony tomorrow. Before you know it, a punch turns into aggravated battery, which turns into murder.”
Bodie shot to his feet. “Objection. The ASA is implying my client is a murderer.”
“Sustained.”
“The state will prove that Mr. Knight’s actions toward Dale Cranston were deliberate and violent. You will have no choice but to render a guilty verdict.” Marvin Moore returned to his table with a glib look of satisfaction.
