"With the new job at Betty's," Ivan says, "what does that do to our schedule? Our call times?"
"I'll be working until ten most nights. By the time I walk back to the motel and get settled, it'll be closer to ten-fifteen, maybe ten-twenty depending on how late we run."
"That's fine. I don't mind staying up a little later. I'll wait for you."
"You need your sleep. You've got to be at work at six-thirty in the morning."
"I'll survive on a little less sleep. Talking to you is more important than an extra fifteen or twenty minutes of sleep. Ten-fifteen it is. Every night. Or ten-thirty if you need more time. Whatever works for you."
"You sure? I don't want you exhausted all the time because of me."
"I'm positive. Completely sure. This is what I want." He pauses. "You're what I want. Everything else can adjust."
"Okay. Ten-fifteen then. Every night."
"Every night," he agrees. "No matter what."
When we finally hang up, when we've exhausted every topic and I can hear him yawning despite trying to hide it, it's almost midnight. Way later than either of us should be awake on a work night.
I should be exhausted, should barely be able to keep my eyes open. But I'm not tired. I'm wired, buzzing with something that feels almost like hope.
I'm finally doing something positive.
I'm moving forward.
Chapter 39: Ivan
I can't stop thinking about Jay's court date. It's consuming me. Jay has two weeks before he has to stand in front of a judge and answer for charges that could follow him for the rest of his life, and he doesn't have a lawyer. He's just going to show up and hope for the best, and that's not good enough.
Wednesday morning, I take my lunch break early and sit in my truck with my phone and a notepad. I've already done the research over the past few days. Criminal defense attorneys in Macon, Georgia. There are dozens of listings online, but I've narrowed it down to three who specifically specialize in assault cases and have good reviews. I've made notes on each one, their experience, their success rates, their fee structures.
The first one doesn't answer. The phone rings six times and then goes to voicemail. I leave a message but I'm not hopeful.
The second one's receptionist answers cheerfully and then delivers the bad news. "I'm so sorry, but he is completely booked solid for the next month at least. He's in trial on three cases right now. Can I take your information and have him call you back when he has an opening?"
"The court date is in two weeks. I don't have a month."
"I understand, I'm sorry. I wish I could help you."
I hang up, frustrated. One number left.
The third one picks up on the second ring. "Law office of Patricia Hendricks. This is Patricia speaking."
"Hi. I'm calling about a criminal case. Assault and disorderly conduct charges. Misdemeanor charges."
"Is this for yourself or for someone else?"
"For a family member. He has a court date in two weeks and he doesn't have representation yet. I'm trying to find someone who can help him."
"Two weeks is tight, I won't lie to you about that. But it's not impossible." Her tone is professional, matter-of-fact. "Tell me what happened. Give me the basic facts."
I explain everything as clearly as I can. The bar where Jay was trying to mind his own business. The three guys who wouldn't leave him alone, who kept pushing and harassing him. The fight that broke out when they followed him outside into the parking lot. The arrest where everyone got taken in, the charges filed against Jay even though he was defending himself.
Patricia listens without interrupting, letting me get it all out. When I finish, she's quiet for a moment, thinking.
"First offense?" she asks.
"Yes. He's never been in trouble before. Never arrested, never charged with anything. Clean record until this."
