I clear my throat, glancing away. “I don’t need pity, David.”
“No,” he agrees. “You need a kick ass attorney in case your current one has dropped the ball.”
Meeting his gaze, I try to find the lies. He seems earnest, and if people like David and Myla have noticed my absence, others will too. Callie tried to text her a few days ago and I blew her off because…
I’m not entirely sure why. I could text back. Make up an excuse for where I am. But lying is exhausting, and it feels like that’s all I do nowadays. Sometimes it's just easier to stay quiet.
The bell goes off again, and I glance up to see Bobby walking in. The couple with all the Halloween items is still wandering around, a basket tucked into the guy’s elbow. At least they haven’t tried to steal anything yet.
I meet David’s gaze again and offer my boss a half wave. Trusting someone so close to the club is a dangerous gamble, but if he’s willing to offer and he’s good at his job like people say, am I shooting myself in the foot by not at least talking to him?
In the back of my mind, I think of Rich. He doesn’t say it all the time, but I know he wants to help me. It’s clear in the way he’s taken me to clubs, comforted me, and even let me cry on him. He’s interested in me, and I think even chatting with Davidwould make him happy. At least it would sound like I tried to do something.
Sighing, I glance at Bobby. He’s on his phone, brushing back his messy black hair and adjusting the backwards hat on his head. “Hey Kimber.”
I clear my throat, already reaching for my bag. “Hey Bobby. I’m taking my break.”
~~~
“How much do I have to tell you?” I ask hesitantly, leaning on the side of the building. He offered to go sit in his car when I admitted I didn’t have mine here (not that I’d tell this man I don’t have a car at all) but that felt like being trapped. Not that David’s trying to trap me, but being in a car alone with someone always feels like a trap. He’d notice right away if I did something strange like sitting in the backseat, and then I’d have to answer questions.
He clicks his tongue. “Do you have any of the paperwork? I don’t know if you’re comfortable letting me see that, but if you have the latest document I can take a look and give you an idea if there’s something I can do to help you. Milo didn’t seem to really know what the court document was for; he was pretty vague.”
Well, thank fuck for Emilio not being a gossip. I think about the only copies I have at the moment, and it’s going to raise more questions.
Questions I haven’t even told Rich. “Are you going to, you know, tell anyone about this?”
His eyes flash. “Kimber, your case is confidential. It should always be that way with any attorney you speak to. If someone is sharing your private information that’s a massive breach.”
I shake my head quickly. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean, like, if someone at the club asked…”
His eyes soften a bit. “Same thing. I don’t share client’s information, no matter who they are. I don’t even get into the details of things with Myla once we’re off the clock. I’m not going to tell anyone.” He smiles. “Even Rich.”
I groan. “Are there any secrets at S&S anymore?”
He chuckles. “Probably still a few.”
I still hesitate, fingering the envelope. Another delivery, another round of messages. I used to think it was duplicates being sent over and over again, but there’s different messages all the time. Once I realized that, I stopped reading them. “I just want the case dismissed, okay? I - I want to not be guilty for what I did. I don’t want anything else.”
His brows furrow, and he stops my hand when I go to drag out the papers. “Kimber, if there’s something serious or threatening that you want to show me, we can always schedule an appointment. Fuck it, I’ll squeeze you in on the calendar this afternoon if you’d like to meet in office.”
I swallow. “You didn’t think I’d have something serious to show you?”
“I honestly thought you would just open an email,” he says, his hand staying just above mine. He’s not touching me, just staring at me. “Do we need to schedule an appointment?”
Before I can lose my nerve, I tug out the papers and David’s hand falls away. “No. Not yet anyway. Just ignore the blacked out parts and read.”
His brows furrow as he stares down at the page. Immediately I feel the shame creeping in, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly flips from the first page to the next before he stops, rifling through the whole stack instead of reading slowly.
His voice is low when he speaks. “They’re wanting to charge you with murder for a domestic violence case?”
“That should be dismissed,” I say, but my voice sounds small. Too small, and the shame eats at me. “My attorney-”
“James Donaldson,” he says, glancing at the papers. “Ugh, that explains it. He’s a piece of work.”
Blinking, I glance up at David, but he’s focused on the papers. James’ name had zero meaning when I met him, but David seems familiar. “Is he bad?”
“You can do much better,” he says, continuing to flip through. “I fucking swear, some of this shouldn’t ever even make it into the courts. Some things are literally just following the fucking law.”
