The song from Pinocchio about having no strings to hold him down played through my mind.
I giggled at myself and hummed the tune in my head.
Then there was me. I was an average woman with a typical body. I wasn’t rail thin, but I was proportionate.
In the early morning hours, I would sometimes catch Chase after he finished up at the gym. He would come in with his workout clothes on, his gym shirt stuck to his sweat-covered chest and back and the shadow of the previous day’s growth on his cheeks and chin. I would try not to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. If he was facing me, his shorts were sometimes fitted, and the outline of his cock… He was well packaged. The man was a god among men. And he had no idea I even existed.
Did he know I’d just taken the bar exam? Did he know I wanted to work in his office if I passed? Would he let me stay once I was certified? Would he help mold my career?
Did he realize I hung on every single word he muttered?
These were questions that would, in time, one way or the other, be answered. For now, I was content learning and listening to as much as he’d allow.
The client we were representing was Lance Vanderbilt, the starting quarterback for his college. His family donated large sums of money to multiple charities annually, and he had scouts after him, as he was assured to go pro. He had his whole life ahead of him but stood accused of raping Miranda Cooper, an acquaintance of his.
Lance groaned in what sounded like boredom.
I glanced at the six-foot-four, light-blond-haired, tanned-skinned quarterback and found him slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his left leg bouncing in a nervous twitch.
I reached over the spectator wall and tapped his shoulder.
He turned and looked at me, then rolled his eyes.
“What’s your problem?” I whispered to Lance.
“When will this be over?” he asked. “I didn’t do it, and I want to go home.”
“Give Mr. Newstrom the time to win your case, and you’ll be home before you know it. Now, please, be quiet, sit up straight, and stop yawning.”
“I’m trying,” he whispered back as he sat up.
The judge looked over to us and frowned.
I sat back in my seat and watched as Chase stood to begin his part of the question-and-answer session. He paced back and forth as he questioned the witness, Joy Anderson, who was a friend of the accuser. She was pretty in a girl-next-door sort of way.
I thought back to the conversation we’d had with Lance during our initial interview.
“Did you have sex with her?” Chase asked him.
Lance nodded. “Yes, on a number of occasions. We were very close. I don’t understand why she would say I raped her. It was never like that.”
“Why would she do this now?” I asked. “What would be her motive?”
Chase looked to me and then to Lance. “Your family is quite wealthy, are they not?”
Lance nodded. “Yeah, my dad comes from money. He didn’t want me dating Miranda because she was poor and from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Chase sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. He lifted his brow and gave me a look that said are you serious.
I frowned and gave my attention back to Lance.
“Her family is dirt poor,” Chase said. “Dad told me if I didn’t watch myself and cover my shit, I could get her pregnant, and then her family would come after us for money. But I always used protection.” Lance shook his head. “My dad said she was a ‘gold-digging whore.’ I never thought she’d ever do that. She seemed so honest. I never saw this coming.”
I refocused my attention to listen to Chase grill Joy Anderson.
“Is it true, Miss Anderson, that you did not see the plaintiff, Miss Miranda Cooper, until two days after she accused my client of rape?”
“Correct,” Joy answered.
“Then help me and the court understand, Miss Anderson, how you claim to have witnessed the rape, but you were not with the plaintiff until two days later.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly in the room—”
“Objection!” yelled the prosecuting attorney.
“Overruled,” the judge ordered. “Continue with your questioning, Mr. Newstrom.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Chase said. “Please, Miss Anderson, state for the court, if you would, that you were not in the room, nor did you witness the rape of the plaintiff, Miss Miranda Cooper.”
I watched the witness sink in her chair in defeat. I was positive she was praying for the floor to open up and swallow her. If you lie on the stand, you could be charged with perjury. Your testimony would be dismissed, and the case for the plaintiff would look questionable.
“I… I was not there, no. But—”
“Thank you. Your Honor, I’m done with this witness,” Chase said and turned his back on Joy Anderson.
“You may step down,” the judge said.
Joy stood, and a tear slid down her cheek. I’m sorry, she mouthed toward her friend Miranda. She looked over to our witness, Lance Vanderbilt. “You’re a fucking dirtbag who deserves to die for what you did!”
“You will be held in contempt if you speak another word, Miss Anderson,” the judge ordered. “Do you understand?”
I glanced over to Chase and found him smirking. This wasn’t quite what he had wanted, but the fact that the woman was accusing Lance of lying when it was she who lied was enough to dismiss the charges.
Maybe.
“The jury will dismiss this outburst from the witness, and the reporter will strike the statement from the record,” the judge instructed.
Chase had told Lance early on he would not put him on the stand. He wanted to break down the witness and her stories—her lies. So far, it was working. I glanced at Miranda, and she squirmed in her chair.
According to Lance, no rape had ever happened. He had an account of his time with her, and that was up to Chase to present as evidence.
In comes Miranda Cooper, beautiful and with a shy demeanor. She came from a poor family, her brother had been in and out of jail for drugs, her father was nonexistent, and her mother had boyfriends turn over more often than riders of Greyhound.
Lance had been attracted to Miranda, as apparently she had been to him. The two had dated for a while, and one night he’d taken her to a frat party. He’d kept her by his side the entire night and watched what she drank. Too many college girls were roofied and taken advantage of. But not Miranda, and definitely not by Lance.
The night was in full swing, and Miranda Cooper wanted to have sex. She came on to Lance and seduced him to take her up into one of the bedrooms. Lance had used protection.
Fast forward two days later, Miranda claimed she was raped by Lance.
At first, Lance claimed he didn’t understand what was happening, that Miranda was his girlfriend and he’d never rape her or force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. But the accusations continued.
Lance’s parents reached out immediately to Chase for legal assistance and hired him and his team.
Almost a year later, here we were in court over a he said, she said court case. All of the discovery had been covered, and nothing new had been presented.
Until today.
“Your Honor, I have a new witness who will prove the forceful rape of my client, Miss Miranda Cooper.”