Текст книги "Reasonable Doubt. Vol. 3"

Автор книги: Whitney Gracia Williams

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 10 страниц)

A Priori Assumption (n.):

An assumption that is true without further proof or need to prove it.

Aubrey

I woke up the next morning on edge, in utter shock.

I couldn’t believe Andrew was in New York, couldn’t believe he’d admitted missing me on my front steps last night.

Seeing him again brought out every emotion in me, and even though I’d told Brian that Andrew and I were done, I’d spent the rest of our date last night thinking about him.

Him and his perfect suit. Him and his perfect lips that nearly pressed against mine as we argued. And, shamefully, him and his perfect cock that I felt hardening in his pants as he dipped me on the dance floor.

Ugh!

I got out of bed and sent Brian a text. “Today is my one on one day with Ashcroft…Wish me luck!”

His response came immediately. “Good luck, babe! Get some coffee, you’re going to need it…”

Slipping into the shower, I scolded myself. “Brian is a sweetheart and he’s good for you…He may suck at phone sex, and you may have no desire to sleep with him right now, but he treats you better than you’ve ever been treated before…”

When I was wrinkled and prune-like, I stepped out and checked the time.

4:30 a.m.

I had twenty minutes to make it to the closest subway station and avoid the ire of Ashcroft. Throwing on some old sweatpants, I grabbed my ballet bag and snatched my coat from the bannister in the hallway. I double checked my wallet to make sure I had my metro pass, and when I opened the door, I found myself face to face with a stranger and a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“Good luck at practice today,” he said, handing it over. “This was made especially for you.”

“Since when do coffee shops deliver?”

He shrugged. “They don’t.”

I stared at the cup as he walked away, noticing that my name was etched atop the whipped cream in thin caramel, and that “Good luck,” was written in cursive on the label.

It was a signature, sweet Brian move, and I immediately felt guilty for not giving him my full attention last night. As I walked to the subway, sipping what was arguably the best coffee I’d ever had, I vowed to give him my full attention from here on out.

I deleted all of Andrew’s old texts and emails, even the ones I’d fake deleted by placing them in the archive. I blocked his number, preventing his calls from ever getting through, and although I couldn’t block his emails, I changed the settings of my inbox so they would go straight to my spam folder.

When I finally arrived at practice that morning, I danced better than I’d ever danced before…

Later that night…

“How do you find the time to take the subway just to meet me at practice and walk me home?” I looked up at Brian as we crossed the street. “Where do you find the energy?”

“I make time for all the things I really like.” He kissed my forehead.

“Do you want to catch a movie this weekend? My treat? I owe you one…”

“What makes you say that?”

“I still feel bad about gala night and what that guy from my past said to you,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

“No worries. I’m sure he’s—” He stopped talking as we approached my house, pointing at the man who was leaning against the door.

Andrew.

I took a deep breath as Andrew walked down the steps.

“Good evening, Aubrey,” he said, smirking. “And your name is danseur, correct?”

“It’s Brian.”

“Close enough.”

Brian crossed his arms. “I could’ve sworn I overheard her say that she didn’t want you anymore. Why can’t you take the hint?”

“Because she says things she doesn’t mean all the time.” He looked at me, instantly setting my nerves on fire. “And I know she’s just angry with me.”

“Dude!” Brian let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m her boyfriend so clearly she’s moved on…She has a boyfriend.”

“I honestly don’t feel threatened,” he said, still looking at me. “Did you get my coffee this morning?”

What?!“That was from you?” My eyes widened. “I thought…”

“What coffee, Aubs?” Brian looked concerned. “What is he talking about?”

“Andrew…” I shook my head. “Thank you for the coffee, but that doesn’t make up for anything…”

“I never said it did.”

A cold wind brushed by and I felt myself being drawn to him, literally drawn to him, and I took a few steps forward. But then I took a few steps back.

“I’m with Brian now…” I grabbed Brian’s hand and led him up to my door, refusing to look back at a seemingly hurt Andrew.

I shut the door and peeped through my blinds, noticing that he was still standing there. Confused.

“Look, Aubs…” The sound of Brian’s voice got my attention. “I don’t think the two of us are going to work.”

“ What? No, no, no. Of course, we will. This is just a minor issue.”

“I think your heart and mind are elsewhere…I think they always have been, actually.”

“Seriously?” I crossed my arms. “Because some psycho from my past shows up for one night and suddenly wants me again? That’s what makes you think that?”

“That, and the fact that some psycho sent me a text earlier today that said, “Her pussy belongs to me.” I’m just now remembering that...”

I sighed and he walked over, kissing my forehead.

“If it’s a minor issue, and he doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, we can try again in a month.”

“A month?”

He nodded. “That way I’ll know for sure, and our phone sex will be twice as amazing since we won’t have had it in so long…Then, maybe we can upgrade to actual sex.”

I said nothing, and he walked out of my place.

I peeped through the blinds again, watching him disappear into the night, and then I noticed that Andrew was still standing outside.

Livid, I stomped down the steps and headed straight toward him. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you right now?”

“Hate isn’t something that can be adequately measured.”

“You just ruined the one great relationship I had in this city. You just made him dump me.”

“Good,” he said. “I did you a favor.”

“Is this how you’re planning on getting me to talk to you again?”

“Part of it.”

“It’s not going to work.” I pressed my finger against his chest, emphasizing every syllable. “I told you that you would have to fucking beg me, and since I know that’s not how you operate—”

“You don’t know how I fucking operate.”

“Are you going to walk me to the subway station every morning?”

“I have a fucking car.”

“Walk me back from rehearsals?”

“Same answer.”

“Actually treat me with some goddamn respect?”

He cupped my face in his hands. “If you give me a chance to…”

I stepped back, still angry. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Omission (n.):

Inadvertently leaving out a word, phrase or other language from a contract, deed, judgment or other document.

Aubrey

Subject: Brian-gate.

I’m not sure how many more times I’ll have to apologize for making your “boyfriend” dump you, but I am, in fact, sorry. Then again, maybe I should have waited until after you fucked him so you could be more appreciative.

–Andrew

“Ugh!” I tossed my phone across the room, nearly knocking over the beautiful vase of lilies he sent me yesterday.

Ever since last week’s “Brian-gate,” I had to face him every day in some capacity. In the mornings, he personally brought me my favorite coffee, walked me to the block where my subway stop was, and apologized profusely. In his own way, of course.

I never said a word back, though. I just sipped from my cup and listened.

Taking a seat on my couch, I grabbed an ice wrap and placed it on my shoulders. I was counting down the days to opening night, wondering how much more pain my body could take.

My feet were now unrecognizable; I no longer soothed their cuts and blisters. The muscles in my arms ached relentlessly, and when I told Mr. Ashcroft that I needed a few extra minutes to stretch my right leg yesterday, he said, “Then I need to replace you with a dancer who doesn’t.”

I cringed at the memory and heard a knock at my door.

“Coming!” I walked over and opened it, tempted to slam it shut once I saw Andrew.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Practice starts in an hour. You’re going to be late.”

“I’m not due there until the afternoon session. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Can I come in until then?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do I really need a reason?”

“I just want to talk to you for a few minutes, Aubrey.”

“We can do that over the phone.”

“You blocked my fucking number.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ve tried that already today. Twice.”

“Have you tried email?”

“Aubrey, please…” He actually looked sincere.

“Fine.” I held the door open. “But you have to leave in five minutes so I can take a nap.”

He stepped inside and looked around, running his hands over the artwork in the halls.

Looking slightly impressed, he rubbed his chin. “Are your parents paying for this?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to them since I left.” I admitted. “A retired dancer from the company rents out all her condos to the newest cohorts.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Not at all.” I sat on the couch. “It’s the only way I can afford to live in this part of town. Otherwise, I’d be sleeping in a cardboard box.”

He stared at me for a while, not saying a word.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing. It’s just been awhile since you spoke a full sentence that wasn’t filled with malice.”

“Don’t get used to it.” I winced and placed another ice wrap on my shoulder. “I’m just trying to make your five minutes with me somewhat memorable.”

“They will be.”

Silence.

He walked over and sat next to me on the couch. “You got an A on your final assignment at GBH.”

“Did you give it to me out of sympathy?”

“I gave it to you because your work was the best.” He looked into my eyes. “Although, I could have done without the “FYI: Mr. Hamilton used to fuck me in his office” note that was at the end.”

I held back a laugh.

“Jessica misses you by the way.”

“Really?”

“She claims I was much more desirable when you were around,” he said. “And apparently she used to listen to us have sex.”

“What?”

“There’s no point in even trying to fire her anymore…I think she grew on me.”

“Do all the interns still hate you?”

“No.” He smiled. “For some strange reason, they started to like me shortly after you left.”

“Are you insinuating that your asshole behavior was my fault?”

“No.” He pulled me into his lap and took the ice wrap away. “I’m insinuating that I no longer pretend to care about any interns when my favorite one is missing.”

I blushed and he started to massage my shoulders—slowly kneading his hands against my skin.

I shut my eyes and exhaled, slightly tilting my head back instead of telling him to stop.

“Do you plan on ever accepting my apology?” he asked, pressing a kiss against my neck.

“No.”

“Is there any way that I could make you?” His fingers gently rubbed my collarbone, alleviating the pain.

“You could tell me the real reason you’re in New York…” I felt him unsnapping my bra. “I know you didn’t come all the way here just to see me.”

He kissed my shoulder. “You don’tknow that.”

“I’m serious, Andrew.”

“As am I.” He pressed his palms into my back, temporarily rendering me speechless. “You’re a huge part of the reason why I’m still here, actually.”

“And the other part?”

He tilted my head back so I was looking directly into his eyes. “The other part doesn’t really matter.” He looked as if he wanted to kiss me, but he held back.

Instead, he slipped his hands underneath my legs and flipped me over so I was lying in his lap. “What time is your rehearsal again?”

“Four…” I barely managed. His touches felt too good.

“Can I drive you?” He softly kneaded the back of my shoulders. “I can do this to you for longer if you don’t take the subway…”

I nodded and shut my eyes, falling asleep at the mercy of his hands.

Hours later, Andrew pulled over to the curb at Lincoln Center.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and looked at him. “Are you going to be standing outside the ballet hall when I get done today?”

“Probably.”

“With hot chocolate?”

“Would you prefer something different?”

I smiled. “No…”

He leaned over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought I was doing the right thing by kicking you out that night, by pushing you away…It was definitely a mistake.”

“I’m not coming back to you just because you said that.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” He trailed his finger against my lips. “I would, however, like you to consider forgiving me.”

“I’ll think about it. Just because you—”

His lips were on mine—kissing me, begging me, saying all the things he couldn’t say with words. And this time I was listening, missing everything we once had before he pushed me away.

Not letting me go, he ran his fingers through my hair and caressed my neck.

“Go think about that,” he whispered, slowly pulling away from me.

“Um…” I struggled to catch my breath as he stepped out to open my door.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He kissed my lips before leaving me standing in the middle of the street, completely breathless again.

Shit…

I headed toward the dance hall, confident that I would dance like I was on air today. I opened the doors and felt someone grabbing my shoulder from behind.

“Aubrey?” The voice asked. “Aubrey, is that you?”

I turned around, shocked. “ Mom? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you…”

I noticed the pin on her suit, “Vote Smart. Vote Everhart,” and knew that wasn’t true. She was in town for something that had to do with my father’s campaign; I was only a pit stop.

“Well, now you’ve seen me…” I turned away and slipped inside the building.

“Wait, Aubrey.” She followed me. “Do you really think that moving across the country was the best way to get me and your father’s attention?”

“I didn’t leave North Carolina to get your attention.”

“Well, you certainly have it.”

“And look, it only took twenty two years…”

She sighed. “We’ve decided to talk to the department chair about letting you pick up where you left off during the summer semester. We can do that since you’re so upset about being a part of the campaign.”

“I’m not upset. I honestly don’t care.”

“Of course you do.” She sounded offended. “But if it makes you feel any better, we placed a picture of you and one of your ballets in our campaign brochure.”

“Did you do that so you could look like you actually care about college arts?”

“No, we donated fifty thousand dollars to Duke’s dance program to look like we actually care about college arts. The brochure picture was personal, although it would’ve been even better if you wrote that essay we begged you to write. We could’ve put that next to the picture. ”

I felt a pang in my chest. “When does your flight leave, mother?”

“Excuse me?”

“When does your flight leave?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “I’m pretty sure it’s in three hours or less so you won’t have to spend a full day here, so you can go back and tell Dad that you tried to convince me to come home after you fulfilled your campaign work. I’m sure that’s still all that matters to you.”

She was silent.

“I left Durham because I’ll be living here for at least three years—which is the length of my contract with the company, where I’ll be pursuing my real dream. And I must say, it’s just a bonus that I won’t be anywhere near you.”

She gasped.

“Have a safe flight. Tell Dad I said hello.”

“You’re just going to leave me standing here?”

“You’ve done it to me my entire life.” I left the building. I was too angry, too hurt, to completely focus.

I sent Ashcroft an email—letting him know I was using a sick day, and headed for the street.

“Aubrey!” My mother called from behind, but I kept walking. “Aubrey, wait!”

She finally caught up to me and grabbed my arm. “I can miss my flight…”

“And why would you want to do that?”

“So I can spend time with my daughter before she forgets that I exist…”

I held back tears.

“I can stay here for a few days and we can catch up in between your dance schedule,” she said. “I’ll make your dad fly up too if that’s okay with you?”

“That would be perfectly fine…” I nodded, but then it hit me. “No campaign talk, though.”

“Done deal.”

“No talking about me going back to law school, either.”

“I can live with that, too.” She nodded.

“And no talking shit about ballet.”

She hesitated, but she nodded again. “Okay, fine.” She hugged me. “Can you hail us a cab so I can book a room at the Four Seasons?”

“Why? You can just stay at my place.”

“Oh, please.” She slid a pair of shades over her eyes. “I looked up what professional ballerinas make. I know what type of apartment you can afford in this city, and daughter or not, I refuse.”

I didn’t want to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. I knew making up would be a long process, but I was willing to give it a try.

She walked over to a newspaper stand, and I held out my hand for a cab.

“Oh, The New York Timesalways picks the best cases to cover.” She flipped through the paper. “There’s one hell of a trial going on this week.”

“Criminal or corporate?” I asked as a taxi flew right past me.

“Both,” she said. “And I actually know this guy. Well, I know ofhim anyway…Absolutely incredible lawyer…”

“We’re never going to get a cab at this rate.” I shook my head at being snubbed again.

“I doubt he’ll ever get recognition for that government case…”

“What are you talking about?”

“Liam Henderson.” She held the paper in front of me, pointing to a picture-less article. “Remember? He’s on me and your dad’s list of lawyers who’ll never be given the credit they deserve because they went against the government. This guy was your favorite, I do believe.”

“Oh, yeah.” I remembered. “So, why is he in the paper now? Did he mess up because he didn’t receive his due fame? Is he in trouble?”

“No, looks like he’s just testifying in a case. Article claims he’s been living down in the South and even partnered at some firm, but that can’t be true. Any firm down there would be bragging if they had him, and I haven’t heard anything.”

“I’m sure they would.” I finally waved down a cab. “We can go now.”

“It’s quite weird though.” She tapped her lip. “In all of his career, I’ve never seen a picture of him—maybe one or two, but they were stock pictures from his college days. I’m sure he looks different now.”

“Mom,” I said, opening the car door. “The cab charges by the minute.”

“Now the article claims he’s been living in North Carolina under an assumed name for the past six years. But of course, they’re not revealing thatname. They need to get better researchers, don’t you think? How could a lawyer of that status manage to change his name, switch states, and still practice the law?” She handed me the paper as she stepped into the cab. “He’d have to erase his entire identity and start all over. Who would do that?”

I gasped and flipped to the article as I sat in the backseat. I read it word for word, over and over, and everything around me became a blur. I could practically feel my jaw dropping as I flashed back to my first interview at GBH:

Miss Everhart, are there any lawyers that you wish to model your own career after?” Mr. Bach smiled at me.

“Yes, actually,” I said. “I’ve always admired the career of Liam Henderson.”

“Liam Henderson?” Andrew looked up at me with his eyebrow raised. “Who is that?”

Suppression of Evidence (n.):

The improper hiding of evidence by a prosecutor who is constitutionally required to reveal to the defense all evidence.

Andrew

Former Partners to Finally Appear in Court Opposite Each Other:

Hart Case Continues This Week.

That’s what the headline in the judicial section of The New York Timesread this morning. To those who knew nothing about the case, I was sure that it was simply another story to pass the time, another superficial scandal to devour with their morning breakfast.

But for me, it was the end of a six year chapter that had gone on for far too many pages. It was part of the reason why I left, part of the reason why after I testified in a few days, I would leave this city for the very last time.

I looked outside the window at the Waldorf Astoria’s restaurant, wondering how it could possibly be raining so heavily in the dead of winter.

“Mr. Hamilton?” A woman in a suit stepped next to my table.

“Yes?”

“I’m Vera Milton, the general manager,” she said. “You’ve had several calls from a Miss Ava Sanchez… She keeps telling us that it’s important and that she needs to speak with you. She’s on the line for you now…”

I sighed. “Could you patch her call to my room in two minutes please?”

“Certainly sir.”

I left the newspaper on the table and headed straight for the penthouse suite. As soon as I unlocked the door, the phone in the parlor room rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“It’s me…” Ava said softly.

“I’m aware. How did you find out where I was staying?”

“Really?” She scoffed. “I need you to do me a favor…”

“Goodbye, Ava.”

“No, wait.” She sounded frantic. “I really am sorry for everything I did to you, Liam.”

“What did I tell you about calling me that?”

“I remember when you visited me when I was being held in jail—before all the hearings started…Remember?” She paused. “I know how hard seeing me must have been back then, how lonely you had to be to come and visit meof all people…You even told me you were contemplating changing your name to Andrew and leaving New York…And then I begged you to save me. Remember that?”

“I’m really not in the mood for story time right now.”

“You were such a softie back then…So compassionate, so caring—”

“Get to the fucking point, Ava.”

“At the trial this week, I know that Kevin—”

“I.e. my former best friend that you fucked?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Him…”

“What about him?”

“He’s not the monster you think he is.”

“Are you calling about a favor that’s never going to happen, or are you calling to be his fucking character witness? I’m confused.”

“He’s still sorry for what he did…He was—”

“Which one is it, Ava?” I snapped. “I’m not a fan of this vague shit.”

“Do you really want to hurt him?” Her voice softened. “I think you’ve already punished us enough. I’m already behind bars, so there’s really no need for him to suffer at this point. ”

“The two of you will never suffer enough.” I hung up and sent a text to an old contact I had at corrections, telling him that Ava had contraband in her cell.

The last thing I wanted to think about was my old partner and former best friend. The only time he needed to be thought of was during the upcoming hearing, and never again after that.

I scrolled through my text messages, noticing that Aubrey had sent me a simple “Okay” when I asked how today’s audition went.

With the exception of the day I massaged her shoulders, she was still being short with me.

I opened my inbox to send her a longer message, but I saw that she’d sent me one first.

Subject: Yes.

I just received your newest set of flowers and your note about going on a date tonight…I have a few stipulations, though.

–Aubrey

Subject: Re: Yes.

Name them.

–Andrew

She sent a new message.

Subject: Date.

I’m allowed to ask you whatever I want and you have to answer truthfully.

–Aubrey

Subject: Re: Date.

I always answer truthfully. Is the word “stipulations” not plural?

–Andrew

Subject: Re: Re: Date.

You have to be a complete gentleman. I don’t want to be fucked in another bathroom…

What time are you picking me up?

–Aubrey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Date.

I actually wasn’t planning on fucking you tonight, but since you’ve clearly entertained that possibility, I’ll be sure to send a list of potential locations prior to the date.

Eight o’ clock.

–Andrew

I knocked on her door at 7:58, dressed in a black designer suit I’d purchased hours ago.

There was no answer, and before I could knock again, the door swung open and she stepped out wearing a short black dress that left little to the imagination.

“Are you aware that it’s still winter?” I trailed my finger along her exposed shoulders. “You’re going to need a coat.”

She looked behind me. “You took the subway here?”

“Yes.”

“We’re taking the subway on our date?”

“The car will come later.” I smiled as confusion spread across her face.

She grabbed her coat from inside and shut the door, looking up at me. “Do you even know how to use the subway?”

“Of course I do,” I said, clasping her hand. “I wasn’t always well-off when I lived here…”

A light snow fell as we made our way to the subway tunnel, and she leaned against me—pressing her body closer to mine. Holiday lights were strung about the tallest buildings—sparkling against the night, and a faint sense of excitement swirled through the air.

There weren’t that many people out tonight, and as we boarded a nearly empty train, Aubrey laughed at that fact.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a subway like this,” she said. “I usually have to fight for my own tiny space.”

“Hmmm.” I prevented her from taking a seat, instead making her share a pole with me. “How did your audition really go today? Surely you have more to say about it than okay.”

“I was crying when I sent that text. I was overwhelmed.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“I landed Odette/Odile in Swan Lake—on a professionallevel.” She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “I still can’t believe it…All of my dreams are actually coming true.”

“Maybe you’re meant to play that role…” I wiped a stray tear from her eyes.

“Maybe.” She leaned closer. “I’m just happy that they’re giving us the next few days off…I think I’ll be able to relax and keep up with the news a bit more. You know, actually have some semblance of a life outside of the dance hall.”

“You could spend more time with me if you want to take a break. The news in this city is overrated and mostly false.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I wouldn’t believe half of the shit in any of these papers.”

She smiled. “Have you heard anything about the huge trial that’s happening this week?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s more than one.”

“No…” She shook her head. “Not like this one…”

I hesitated. “What makes this one so special?”

“It’s more intriguing than special…It’s about two lawyers who once shared a firm—both of them were big shots, you know? One of them even won against the government in his very first case.”

“It was probably a lucky break.”

“I don’t think so.” She looked into my eyes. “I’ve read the transcripts. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the verdict actually affected public policy.”

I said nothing.

“But the thing is, he never got credit for his work—outside of word of mouth from people who knew the details, you know?” She paused. “But anyway, from what I’ve read and pieced together, it seems like he was falsely accused of a laundry list of federal charges a few years later.”

“ Aubrey…”

“It looks like everyone ran with the story—all of the papers, all of the news outlets, and the truth wasn’t filtered until months later, after his name was already tarnished.”

I stared at her, begging her to stop, but she continued.

“The charges are still pending against his old partner to this day, that’s just how many there were. But him—this upstanding lawyer with one hell of a track record, he just vanished. Into thin air.”

“If he was that upstanding, then I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“ It is,” I said.

“I thought that, too…” She searched my eyes for answers. “But I think the guy I’m talking about is capable of anything.”

“What are the names in this case you’re speaking of?”

“The accused is Kevin Hart, and the key witness is Liam Henderson.”

“I’ll google it tonight.” I sighed, not wanting to continue this conversation.

A voice came over the speakers, announcing our stop, and I took her hand again.

“I know you made me agree to stipulations,” I said, looking at her as we stepped off, “but can you agree to one of mine?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Ask me the deep conversation questions after dinner.”

“Is that where we’re going right now?”

“No.” I led her up the steps. “I wouldn’t dare. I don’t want you accusing me of treating you like all my other dates.”

“Does that mean you won’t fuck me at the end?”

“It means I won’t leave you at the end.”

She blushed, and I kissed her forehead as we walked through the streets of flashing lights and sparkling billboards.

She didn’t say much of anything else as we moved from block to block, only blushing each time I looked at her.

“Here,” I said, stopping her as we approached our first destination.

“Broadway?” She looked up at the grand marquis.

“You mentioned you haven’t had the chance to come here yet,” I said. “I used to come here all the time when I lived here…”

“All the time?”

“At least once a week.” I held the door open for her. “Twice when this particular play was performed.” I ran my fingers across the words, Death of a Salesman, before handing our tickets to the usher.

She smiled as he led us to the private balcony, as he offered us complimentary wine since we were so early.

“I would’ve never taken you for the drama type,” she said, taking a sip from her glass. “You’ve never mentioned that to me before.”

“I actually almost went to theater school instead of law school.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“A law degree attracts a higher percentage of pussy.”

“What?!” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’m being serious.”

“I received a bigger scholarship for law school.” I resisted the urge to pull her into my lap. “Best decision I ever made.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the lights began to dim and she leaned closer to me, whispering, “I would’ve liked to see you as an actor…I think you would’ve been really good at it.”

I felt her placing her hand on my thigh. “I don’t think I would’ve wanted to see you play anything serious though. I think I would prefer—”

“Are you going to talk through this entire play, Aubrey?” I cut her off, ignoring the tell-tale look on her face—the one of severe longing, needing.

“Am I not allowed to make comments?” She sounded offended. “Am I not allowed to do that until after dinnereither? If that’s the case, why even take me out? Why would you even—”

“I’ve seen this play a million times…” I pressed my finger against her lips as the lead actor stepped onto the stage. “And although I want you to experience it too, if you would rather me entertain you in a differentway, just tell me.”

“What?”

“Would this balcony make it onto your list of approved places?” I asked. “If I fucked you here, would that still count as me being a gentleman?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly moved her hand away from my lap. “I was just teasing you, Andrew…”

“I’m aware.” I kissed her neck. “And I’ve told you on numerous occasions that I don’t appreciate that, whether you’re mad at me or not…”