“That’s kind of creepy...”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. And then I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You’re beautiful, even when you sleep.”
She looked away, and when she turned back, she avoided eye contact. “I’m nervous about what’s going to happen to Augustus this time. His last arrest was only a few months ago.”
I guessed that was the end of our trip down memory lane… “I might have something I can use to make this go away.”
“What do you mean?”
“Prosecutors don’t particularly enjoy punishing twelve year olds, especially ones who have potential, like Storm. So if you can bring them something they do enjoy prosecuting, and help them see there’s also a good path for your client without putting him in a juvey detention center or shipping him someplace where he’ll only wind up worse, then usually they’ll work something out.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m not following you. Who would they enjoy prosecuting?”
Even without attorney-client privilege, I wasn’t going to break my word to Storm. Kids like him don’t trust easily, so if they so much as smell that you might not have honored your word, you lose them for good.
“Leave it to me, okay?”
She looked wary. “Okay…”
This time, when she tried to look away, I made sure I got through to her. “Autumn?”
She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Trust me, okay? I’m going to do everything I can for him.”
With a sigh, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Digging it out, I saw that it was the office. I looked over at Autumn. “Excuse me for a minute.”
She nodded, so I swiped to answer and stood, taking a few steps away. “Donovan Decker…”
“Decker, how did the hearing go?”
Yeah, hello to you, too, Mr. Dick.
“Hey, Blake. The hearing went fine. Pretty standard.”
“Will you be able to get the kid off?”
“I’ll do my best. I might have a little leverage to work.”
“You better. There’s a lot riding on this for you.”
Seriously? Seven damn years of pulling in tens of millions on high-profile cases, and my fate comes down to a pro bono case for a twelve-year-old kid I shouldn’t even have while he’s deciding how to vote on whether I make partner or not? I wanted to tell him to eat shit, but instead I ate shit—though I had to physically swallow in order to force down my thoughts and make room for my ass kissing.
“Absolutely, I won’t let you down.”
Click. The asshole hung up on me.
I shook my head and grumbled under my breath. You have a good day, too, Dick.
However aggravated the short conversation had made me, my anger quickly dissipated as I turned around. Autumn had her thick auburn hair in her hand, and she was tying it up in one of those buns girls could do faster than a ninja. She looked beautiful with it down or up, but seeing it piled on top of her head reminded me of the morning I’d woken up and found her standing in front of my stove, cooking while wearing one of my T-shirts. She’d been humming “Little Boxes,” an old song that had made a comeback as the theme song to the show Weeds, and I’d secretly snapped a picture of her. Trent still busted my balls about that pic. I’d showed it to him once, enlarging it so he couldn’t see her bare legs, but it had been in my favorites folder—the only picture I’d ever hit the little heart on and put in there on my iPhone.
I hadn’t realized I’d been staring until Autumn caught me. The corners of her lips turned up ever so slightly, and her head tilted to one side. I walked over, feeling good that she seemed to like me watching her.
“Sorry. That was my office. You must have friends in high places for The Dick to call and check on how things are going. I think that’s the third time the guy has called me in seven years, and this is the second call in twenty-four hours about your case.”
“Hmm…yeah, I guess so.”
“You said your father was a lawyer, right? Is that how you got my firm to take this case? He knows someone? We were closed to accepting any new pro bono cases this year.”
“Actually, it wasn’t through my dad. I sort of know someone at your firm.”
“Sort of know?”
She looked down. “I’m dating one of the attorneys.”
My stomach sank. She was involved with another man? Someone I knew? But if I thought that news was a kick in the gut, I had another thing coming when she dropped the next bomb.
“Which attorney?” I asked.
She winced through a forced smile. “I believe you call him The Dick.”
CHAPTER 5
* * *
Donovan
I sat at my desk with a business card between my fingers, turning it over and over, lost in thought. I didn’t even notice that Juliette had walked in until she planted her ass in one of my chairs.
“Tu en fais une tête,” she said.
“Nah. I’m not in the mood for a handjob. Thanks anyway.”
She laughed. “Why the long face, my friend?”
“Just thinking about a case.”
Juliette was originally from France, but we’d started as summer interns at the firm together, along with Trent and twelve others. The three of us had been the only ones hired that fall, and we’d been tight ever since. She and Trent spent a lot of time talking about their love lives, or lack of, usually—analyzing why their relationships never seemed to work out. I’d comment and give my opinions, but it wasn’t often that we scrutinized my dating life, because for the most part, I’d been relatively happy with how my non-relationships worked out. Today, though, I thought I could use a woman’s opinion…
“Let me ask you something—do you have a type?”
“In men?”
I nodded. “Either in looks or personality?”
“I do. I tend to be attracted to losers.”
I grinned. “No, really.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not joking. I’m attracted to the artsy type—painters, sculptors, writers—most of whom are unemployed half the time.”
“What attracts you to them?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I love that they wear their heart on their sleeves. Artist types tend to be in touch with their emotions and care about things I care about, like the environment and social justice. I find a man who’s passionate about things that don’t necessarily make him money very sexy.”
“What about physically?”
“You’ve met guys I’ve dated. They’re usually thin with a hippy kind of earthy look—sort of like you’re not quite sure if they might be homeless or not.” She looked me up and down. “Basically the opposite of you, pretty boy. But why are you asking me this?”
“I’m trying to figure out how a woman could date me and then a total asshole.”
She smirked. “Aren’t those the same thing?”
I wadded up a piece of paper from my desk and threw it at her.
She laughed and caught it. “What’s going on with you? Spill the beans, Decker.”