Yes, little one,oh.
Against my better judgement, I pop my earbud in so I can still talk while I pull up the camera aiming at Elizabeth’s porch on my phone. I zoom in. She’s sitting on the front step in a pair of short, frayed, blue jean shorts, and a tight white tank top. I don’t like it. Well, that’s not exactly it, I do like it, I just don’t like that others can see her.
My jaw ticks again. I can just about see down her shirt. This isn’t going to work. She’s going to need clothes that cover her better or she’s going to be too distracting to the male staff—and me.
“This is why you need to trust me, it’s my job to know the law, cupcake. Anyway, you will go with Elizabeth tomorrow to get more clothes and boots to wear around the farm.” I’ll be messaging Elizabeth to make sure she knows to have her get more fitting clothes.
There’s a long silence.
“I don’t want to keep owing you for things. I’ll keep track of my receipts, though, so one day I can pay you back. Please let me know what I owe you for the phone.” She picks at her fingers, something I’ve noticed she does when she’s uncomfortable.
I know where she is, and I shouldn’t still be watching her, but I can’t seem to look away from her troubled face.
“The farm has a staff account for things like phones, clothes, shoes, food, etc. It’s a tax write off. You’re working there, therefore you’re already earning your keep. Which reminds me, your new laptop will be delivered in a few days so you can register for classes.”
“I haven’t done the job yet. Anyway, I’ve changed my mind, I think I’m going to wait a year or two to enroll.” She’s tense, that isn’t what she really wants.
“Is this about money, again?” There’s another long pause. She doesn’t answer so I continue. “I prefer to have educated employees. Consider it part of the job.”
“I don’t have transcripts, I can’t enroll.” She looks up at the sky like she’s waiting for it to rain down more excuses if I push her more.
I grin. She’s going to have to come up with better arguments.
“I’ll have your new, official, transcripts sent to Magnolia State University by the end of the week.”
“How can you send official transcripts?”
“When you’re me, there’s not much you can’t do.” Unless it’s stay sober, not have a childish riff with theprosecuting attorney, and not pass out on my desk. Definitely not my finest moment.
“What if I can’t finish the job? Please let me wait so I can pay you back for everything.” She leans on the banister and drops her head.
Her pleading is cute, but I wouldn’t agree even if she was on her knees and begging. “No, and don’t push me on this, Maya. It’s not up for discussion.” My eye and my palm are twitching. These women are going to be the death of me.
“Sir, Kaleb Cherry is here to see you.” I check my watch, 9 a.m. on the dot. I appreciate someone who is punctual.
“Send him in.” Sasha’s basically avoided me since I didn’t address her the other day. Oh well. I’m relieved by it, if I’m being honest. She’s getting too clingy.
Kaleb comes through the door, looking like your typical run-of-the-mill Whiskey Rivers citizen. Too skinny, dressed in rags, and could use a haircut and shave. I’m not picking on him for being poor—it’s his pupils that make him stand out. They’re so dilated they look blown. His swollen nose looks like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
I stand to greet him, but he doesn’t bother to shake my hand. “Have a seat, Kaleb. Can I offer you a bottle of water?”
“Naw, man, don’t touch the stuff. There’s no telling what the government is trying to put in there to control us.” He slumps down in the chair, scanning the room, for what I don’t know.
I want to askhim what makes him think blow is a healthier option, but I refrain. “How long have you lived in Whiskey Rivers?”
“My whole life. I got everything I need there, man. Don’t want to go nowhere else.” He starts picking at a scab on his arm, making me internally cringe.
“Looks like you got yourself into some trouble, wanna tell me about it?” I pick up my pen and paper, pretending to take notes.
“Not really, man, I don’t want to get in more trouble. Can’t you just talk to the cops and judge and do some fancy lawyer stuff to get me off the hook?” He eyes me cautiously.
My eye starts to twitch. This is why I usually stick to high-profile cases. I don’t have the patience for ignorance. “That’s not how it works. It’s my due diligence as a lawyer to keep what you tell me confidential. I can’t help you if I don’t know your story.”
He blows out a breath. “My buddies and I get together at the Buckit Club on Wednesday nights for poker and roulette. One of the new guys accused me of stealing his chips and we got in a fight. His bitch ass called his brother who’s a cop. I was high and forgot I had a pocket full of percs.”
“Where is this Buckit Club?” I’m into crime and never heard of such place.
“It’s hidden in the woods outside Whiskey Rivers. We like to keep it a remote location, gets kinda rowdy if you know what I’m saying, people fightin’ and shit.”
