“Mr. Adeleke, how much are you charging for your firm’s services?” Noah asks, and I swear if he had a checkbook, he would be writing it now. You cannot buy that type of loyalty or friendship.
“Our services are free. We seek these cases out in our spare time on other cases we are working.” He shuffles through some papers and holds up one. One that I wished I never knew about. “I have just met with Sam and he has asked that you all leave him alone. You are welcome in court, but he wants no visitors or distractions, and I quote, ‘Everyone worry about your lives. Whatever happens next I am fine with.”
“He can’t be serious,” I say, and run my fingers through my hair.
“Are you Miss Dorian?” He asks me.
“Yes, sorry. I am Mya Dorian,” I greet myself, hoping that I am the exception on his little list of demands.
“Miss Dorian, he says, and this is verbatim, ‘Mya, focus on your studio and life. There is nothing you can do so stop worrying. I mean it.’”
Cal looks at me and I know he sees my sadness even when I hide it. “Fine. Let him know he can fuck himself.”
Cal and Noah both laugh, and Cal hugs me as he talks to Sam’s lawyer. “Please don’t repeat that. She is feisty scared and tired.”
Frank nods with boredom. “Duly noted. I will have a court date assigned on Monday and get in contact with you then. He will have a preliminary hearing first and there will be a date set after that.”
“Will he plead guilty?” I ask, praying he will.
“Client information, Miss Dorian.”
I nod, numb from it all and sit in shock on the couch with a vodka tonic in one hand and a joint in the other.
This is really fucking happening.
