Page 70 of Now Their Starlet

She makes her way down the aisle beside Charles, her gaze lingering on each of us. I don’t need to be as good at reading people as I am to see the maelstrom of emotions that cross her features. Excitement, guilt. Appreciation, shame. She cycles through positive and negative emotions paired together before she settles on hope.

She offers us a little smile and a wave before she sits down. She’s so close I can practically taste the soothing balm of her chamomile scent at the back of my throat.

The five of us respond in our own ways, ranging from smiles and waves back to reassuring nods.

Charles leans over as the two of them are seated, his voice low. I’m sure he’s saying something about how it’s not a good idea for her to look at us during the proceedings. The last thing we’d want to do is impact the way the judge views her, because his opinion will be the one that matters most in this situation.

The bailiff enters from a side door of the courtroom wearing olive-green trousers and a khaki uniform shirt with a badge pinned to his chest. The buckle of his duty belt glimmers in the overhead lighting.

“Attention. All rise,” the bailiff says, his back ramrod straight. “Department 29 of the Superior Court of California, County of Los Angeles, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Clay Harvey presiding.”

The sound of shoes scuffing against the floor and the pews creaking echoes through the room as everyone stands.

The Judge, a domineering male alpha with tan skin and tight curls cropped close to his scalp, appears from another doorway towards the back of the courtroom. His black robes hanging from his large frame.

The courtroom clerk, a tall, willowy beta woman with large tortoise-shell glasses, appears, seating herself in the small raised booth beside the Judge’s bench.

Judge Harvey reaches his bench, surveying the room for a moment, his expression stern and neutral.

“Please be seated,” the bailiff calls.

More shuffling fills the silent room as everyone takes their seats.

I imagined I would be more nervous for this. I have, after all, been far more anxious than I have in at least a decade to be completely frank. But seated behind Andi, her dark hair twisted into a low knot at the base of her head, I feel a calm sort of steadiness.

And a deep desire to undo that bun and wrap her hair around my fist.

But there’s a time and a place for those sorts of thoughts, and now is neither.

“Calling the matter of the Conservatorship of Andromeda Sterling,” the courtroom clerk says, her hands moving quickly on the Stenograph as she starts to document everything. “Counsel, please state your appearances for the record.”

Gina’s lead attorney begins the introductions.

“Good morning, Your Honor. Collin Wallace on behalf of petitioner Gina Sterling,” he says, tugging at the cuffs of his suit jacket.

“Daniel Tran, appearing on behalf of Edison Wade, who has filed a competing petition,” Edison’s lawyer says.

“Charles Miller on behalf of the proposed conservatee, Andromeda Sterling. We would like the record to reflect that she prefers to be called Andi.”

“Very well,” Judge Harvey nods. “Good morning.”

Watching this sort of case as an outside observer feels like I’m a voyeur. It’s strange that they allow so many courtrooms to be open to the public. It’s strange that we live in an era where it’s a blessing that this court case isn’t being broadcast or recorded.

“This matter comes before the court regarding the expression of the temporary conservatorship entered thirty days ago over Miss Andi Sterling,” Judge Harvey says, shuffling some of the files on his desk. “Today, it will be determined whether the continuation of this conservatorship is necessary and who should serve as conservator, should it be deemed so necessary.”

He nods towards Collin Wallace, Gina’s lead attorney. “Petitioning counsel, begin with your opening statement.”

“Very well, Your Honor. The evidence we will provide today is very similar to that presented in the emergency petition. It showcases that Miss Andromeda Sterling is unable to provide for her own safety…”

His entire opening statement is a load of bullshit. It doesn’t slip my attention that Collin purposely used Andromeda’s given name, rather than the one explicitly stated Andi prefers.

“And with that, I conclude, Your Honor.”

I don’t miss the reactions of the other guys. Beck is vibrating with barely controlled energy. Eli is losing the battle against the urge to roll his eyes. Leo is holding himself so stiffly, I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. Cameron seems to be channelling his own anxious energy into writing down everything said in the opening statement because he’s writing faster than I’ve ever seen someone write.

“Competing petitioning counsel, begin with your statement,” Judge Harvey says with a nod, directing his attention to Edison’s lawyer.

Daniel stands, straightening his suit.