“Really?” I mutter under my breath.
“Shhh,” Vaughn whispers without glancing my way, his face a study in concentration.
“The man has an herb garden growing out of his ears. He can’t hear a thing,” I whisper-hiss back. On the edge of my vision, I notice Cal and Cam walk in and take a seat ten rows down. Relief crashes into me. The cavalry has arrived.
“Vaughn?” mutters the judge. Eyebrows that resemble two West Highland terriers climb up his forehead. “Any relation to Harrison Vaughn?”
“Yes, your Honor, he’s my father.”
“Hmm, tell him Charlie Weebly says hello.”
“Will do, your Honor.”
The judge drones on and on, reads the charges. Per my lawyer, I cringe and sweat as quietly as I possibly can.
“How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, your Honor.”
The judge addresses the prosecutor who has to look through some notes before he can answer back.
Vaughn quickly cuts him off. “Your Honor, the defendant has no record. And she was invited to the scene of the alleged crime. Her phone records will show as much. She hasn’t made any attempt to contact the injured party in two years.”
Two things. First, I’m slightly relieved. I know that Vaughn is not a criminal defense attorney so this could’ve gone either way. Second, I’m slightly in awe. Granted, I’ve never seen him in a work environment before, however, the confidence and command of the courtroom Vaughn is exhibiting is giving me goose bumps.
“Your Honor, there is significant damage to the victim’s property,” the annoyed and overly tired prosecutor retorts. “There are a number of witnesses to the crime.”
“Who were intoxicated, your Honor,” Vaughn counters. “There’s evidence of drug use as well.”
“What do you propose, Mr. Vaughn? This looks like a crime of passion. I’m disinclined to believe it won’t escalate if I release her. Can’t have her wreaking havoc in my town.”
So now I’m King Kong. Great, just great.
“I’ll be posting her bail, your Honor.”
My head whips around, my eyeballs urging Vaughn to look at me. He does not look at me, however. In fact, his unwavering attention remains on the judge.
Bushy eyebrows climb back up the judge’s forehead. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” He pauses, flips through some papers. “Fine. Let the record show that I will grant your request for a reduced bail in the amount of fifty thousand on one condition––house arrest until either a deal is reached, or a court date set.”
“Your Honor, the defendant will lose her job and suffer serious financial hardship if she can’t leave her home.” Almost imperceptibly, Vaughn’s eyes flicker to me and away. I catch it nonetheless. “I’m prepared to assume responsibility for Miss Jones. She can stay with me.”
Say wut?
I’m getting whiplash. I keep staring at him, poking him with my eyeballs to get his attention, and yet nothing. I may as well not even exist.
“Fifty thousand dollars and she will be remanded in your custody, Mr. Vaughn. Good luck.” The judge bangs his gavel. “Next case on the docket.” His voice disappears as the high pitch ringing in my ear drowns it out.
“You look like absolute dog shit,” Camilla announces, walking over to me with open arms. We’re outside the courtroom, waiting for Vaughn to file whatever paperwork is necessary to get me the heck out of Dodge.
“That good, huh?”
Camilla throws her arms around my neck and squeezes me tight, which has me disappearing into the landscape of her body, my face squashed between two gargantuan sized breasts.
“You’re thuffacating me,” I feel the need to point out.
Holding me away from her, she inspects me closer. “Where are your shoes, and what in the world happened to your dress?”
Looking down, I see what she’s seeing. Not good. “I lost them in the kerfuffle. I need to find a ladies room.”
“Around the corner,” responds the surly giant standing next to her. Arms crossed and legs slightly spread apart, his posture and raised black eyebrow are a dead giveaway that he’s silently judging me. His expression says I’m the bad news he doesn’t want his wife anywhere near. My expression says I wish I could flip you off but you will most likely be paying my bail thanks to your wife therefore I won’t.
“I’m going to go sit on the bench, Boo. My feet hurt.”
Boo leans down and places two quick kisses on his wife’s lips. “Be there in a minute, Honey.”
I vomit a little in my mouth. “You guys are making me sick.”
Camilla’s thick lips spread into a huge, white grin.
Thankfully, the ladies’ room is empty. I catch sight of the horror that is myself in the mirror and gasp. What was only hours ago a very neat bun is now a blonde nest for woodland creatures, my silver beaded dress is shredded in all the wrong places, and my smoky black eye make-up, the one I thought made my murky hazel eyes look green, has turned into skid marks running down my cheeks. It looks like a Chihuahua has wiped his little dirty doggy butt down my cheeks. I grab a bunch of paper towels and run them under the faucet.