The Bar Ch. 02

"I've read it, I haven't heard it. And the point? Well you're right, Jenifer doesn't believe you but at the moment you're looking totally screwed, you've got nothing left to lose,"

"Alright," He said after a moment, considering, "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Just tell me about your night,"

"You think you'll see something the police didn't? You a detective of something?"

"Haha, no" I laughed, reclining in the seat and propping my feet upon the table, trying for the image of nonchalance but probably hitting something closer to: uneasy complacency, "But the police weren't looking to clear you, they were looking to condemn you, and dammit if they didn't do a good job."

"You sure you're on my side?" he laughed took and seemed to relax in his chair, I had to admit when he wasn't sulking he could be quite charming.

"Just start at when you got the club,"

"Alright fine. So I got there at about then ten"

"Dry Land?"

"Yeah, Dry Land. So I got to Dry Land at about ten and valeted my car, I got inside the bar and scoped the place out; you know- looking for local talent."

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Not bad, I tried my luck with a couple of girls but struck out, one kept me talking for about fifteen minutes before her boyfriend came over and whisked her away, the tease, then I saw her at the bar,"

"Harriet?"

"Yeah, so I go up to the bar and...

... Harriet sat at the bar, absently sipping a dark and stormy. She didn't normally sit alone in bars, but her best friend Maggie was in the bathroom, no doubt hooking up and doing blow, so here Harriet was sitting all on her lonesome drinking a ridiculously expensive drink.

"Come here often?" It took Harriet a few seconds to realize that the guy standing two feet to her right was talking to her. He was attractive enough in a tailored grey suit, opened collar showing a bronze, toned chest.

"Often enough to know that that pickup line won't work in a place like this,"

"What makes you think it was a pick up line?"

"Why else would you be asking?"

"Maybe I just want a recommendation on the cocktail list?"

"Well do you?"

"If you have good taste," this last encouraged a giggle from Harriet, okay maybe the guy wasn't quite the cocky prick he looked like.

"Try the caipirinha, it surprisingly authentic," she advised the stranger. The bartender finished up his previous order and moved down the bar to Harriet and her new acquaintance.

"What can I get you?"

"Two caipirinhas please," the stranger asked, pulling out a fifty from the black leather wallet he held in his right hand.

"Just one," Harriet clarified, "Thanks anyway,"

"Who said it was for you?" The man in the grey suit with blue eye responded, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

"Oh sorry, I just... assumed,"

"Well I might forgive you... if you have a drink with me," the guy flashed a smile full of pearly white straight teeth, either he had amazing genetics or quite a bit of money had been spent on his dental care.

"You're a rogue," she shook her head, hiding a smirk, "but if you insist, I suppose I could have one more,"

The barman bustled off to make two of the lime and cachaca cocktails while the man in the blue suit pulled up a stool next to Harriet.

"I'm Jackson," Harriet accepted the extended hand, but instead of shaking it, as she had expected, the man, Jackson, raised it to his mouth and gently brushed the back of her fingers with his lips.

"Harriet," she offered after a beat, catching her breath.

"Pleasure,"

The two talked for a quarter of an hour until Maggie interrupted her friend, whispering in Harriet's ear that she was going to go home with Phill, the body builder she'd been holed up in the facilities with.

"What's wrong?" Jackson asked as Harriet returned to him, her face set in a scowl.

"Oh my ride just left is all,"

"Ah, sorry to hear that,"

"It's my own fault, I know what she's like, I should have just driven here myself. I'll grab a cab I guess,"

"Well, I know we only just met but if you want I did bring my car, I'm sure dropping you off wouldn't be too far out of my way," Normally Harriet wouldn't have even considered accepting such an offer from a strange man, but this guy seemed so sweet and her head was slightly fuzzy from the alcohol. Also, it had been a few months since she'd broken up with her scumbag cheating ex-boyfriend, the male attention she was garnering was flattering and... well if she had to admit it, something she'd missed.

"Oh no, it's fine, I can grab a cab, I don't want to put you out," she responded, half hoping he would notice her rejection due to convenience and not precedence.

"Don't be silly, it's really nothing, anyway I feel like a drive tonight,"

"Okay thanks," the words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she was saying, what they meant. The thrill of doing something so unlike herself compounded with the alcohol she'd drunk had her head spinning slightly.

Jackson helped Harriet to her feet and guided her to the door of the bar, a soft supporting hand at the small of her back. Jackson's car was parked on the street, clearly the establishment's attempt to show off, and it took the valet barely thirty seconds from leaving the valet podium to pulling the car around, hardly worth it really but the young kid wasn't going to give up a chance of driving that car!

"Nice car sir," the young kid remarked and Harriet had to agree. It was clear before this guy wasn't exactly impoverished but she hadn't been expecting this! Harriet knew she was attractive to a degree but never considered herself a real beauty; the attention she had received from somebody of such means was doing wonder for her self-esteem. She carefully slipped into the low leather seat, thanking the valet who held the door open for her and careful to keep her legs together, she wasn't one of these Hollywood celebrities who wantonly flashed their goods to every passerby!

"Wow," was all she could think to say as the doors were closed and Jackson slid the car into gear.

"Yeah it's pretty nice," he conceded, shooting her a sly grin and strapping himself in. The trip out of the city was surprisingly quick, the expensive car expertly maneuvered through traffic and onto the Brooklyn bridge, from there it was a fifteen minute drive to her house. Harriet spent most of the time listening to the soft jazz flowing from the car's speakers and watching the city slip past the window. The conversation flowed well at first, but as the drive continued she grew more and more drowsy and her ability to keep up the flow started to falter. Jackson, give him his due, didn't mind at all, he seemed happy to sit in silence and let her nap intermittently in the passenger seat.

"This it?" Jackson asked, gently shaking Harriet's leg, as they pulled up in front of her house, the GPS leading him right to her doorstep.

"Yeah, thanks," Harriet said, unbuckling her seat belt. Jackson mimicked her move and quickly ran around the car to grab her door and help her out of the small vehicle.

"Thanks for the ride," She said again, teetering slightly on the stilettos she wore. She wanted him to ask for her number, the signs were definitely there and she was ready to get back on the horse so to speak.

"Any time," he moved in close and Harriet could feel his breath upon her neck, she smelled his cologne for the first time and couldn't help but deeply breathe in, savoring the peppery perfume. She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss, all she knew was that one second they were standing with barely a couple of inches between them and the next her lips was passionately locked with his. Harriet pressed herself into the strong man and letting him support her weak body, savoring the warmth and security he offered.

'Oh fuck it!' She thought dopily, 'Let's show that prick Darius that he's not the only one that can have fun!'

It was in a haze that they moved up the path and through the front door of her small house, Jackson needing no great encouragement. Harriet led him to her living room, his tongue in her mouth and hands on her body the entire time. They tumbled to the couch in a fit of desperation and lust.

Despite the blood pumping hormones flowing through her body, Harriet felt dizzier and weaker by the second. She thought she was feeling foggy as they left the club but by now her mind was struggling to hold thoughts together. Harriet was vaguely aware of her dress being pulled off her shoulders and Jackson kissing her neck and breasts and wanted to slow things down, she wasn't opposed to sex but not like this and not this quickly!

'Too fast,' she tried to say but the words wouldn't come out, all she could do was lie there, let him kiss her touch her body. She barely even felt his hands pushing her legs or the nip of his teeth on her neck, there seemed to be a barrier between her skin and her nerves. Eventually she managed a single word, her body limp and mouth struggling to manage even that.

"No," she muttered, then again a little louder, "No." She thought that he responded but Harriet couldn't be sure, her mind was so groggy she lacked the energy to process the sounds that reached her ears. She struggled to stay awake but her eyes were so heavy, so so heavy. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Harriet's eyes fluttered shut and she tried to force them open, she really did, but they were just too heavy. In a daze Harriet felt herself slip into the black, unconsciousness grabbing at her and dragging her down into inky depths...

... "So you did drive her home?" I clarified after Jackson finished telling his story.

"Yeah," he admitted, hanging his head.

"Why didn't you tell Jenny this?"

"You think that she would have believed me? I tell you what would have happened, I would have said I drove her home and Jenny would have already convinced herself I was guilty and it didn't matter if I got off, or worse that I deserved to go to jail,"

"You don't think you might be underestimating her?" I asked, puzzled at this man's complete lack of trust in the lawyer that his father had personally asked for.

"No, I know her type," there wasn't any point pushing this, I'd already made more progress than anyone, including myself, could have hoped for and I didn't want to throw it away on semantics.

"Okay, so after you drove her home the two of you went inside and started making out?"

"Didn't I just say that?" He asked sullenly, the charming man retreating into the petulant shell.

"Just trying making sure," I said with a smile, taking my feet off the desk and helping myself to a glass of water, "Then she asked you to leave?"

"For Christ's sake yes! She said something like no and then passed out; I covered her up with a blanket and took off her shoes. Then I left, shut the door, got in my car and drove away!"

"You covered her up and took of her shoes, that's all?"

"Fuck you," he spat, contempt written over his face.

"Mate, I'm not saying you did anything else, I just want to make sure that you didn't... I dunno, make a cup of coffee to sober up before you left," it sounded weak even to me and he didn't believe it for a second.

"Go fuck yourself, you're no different from the rest of them," dammit, I was losing any rapport we'd built up.

"Hey, I believe you didn't do what she was saying. So you left the house and came home, what time would it be that you got home?"

"Probably around one in the morning,"

"Why so late? From what I can tell you left hers no later than quarter past midnight?"

"I stopped for a kebab on the way home and there wasn't any way I was going to take that shit in my car," He was still petulant but he was at least answering my questions.

"Okay, cool, just one more question: why didn't you tell the police any of this?"

"Like I said, they wouldn't have believed me. The second I tell them that I took her home and went inside, they'd have already made up their minds that I raped her. I mean who else could have done it right? It's what the rest of you think,"

"Hey, I'm on your side right? We'll figure this out," truthfully I was finding his version of the tale a little hard to believe myself, but I wasn't going to tell him that; "There's just one problem."

"Just one?"

"Alright, there are a lot of problems, but we have a big one. When we put you on the stand and you testify, the prosecution are going to ask you why you lied during the interview and they're going to say that you lied then and you're lying now."

"You don't think I don't know that? You don't think I don't know that I'm going down for this? You don't think that I don't know that I'm going to be charged for something that I didn't do? I've heard about what they do to rapists in prison," the young man broke down in tears and suddenly it was clear: he hasn't been petulant and sullen due to some inherent personality, he'd just lost all hope -- either that or he belonged on the stage.

"Hey man, we'll sort this out," I moved around to the table and awkwardly patted him on the back, "Jenny's pretty smart, she'll come up with a few ideas." It was the wrong thing to say, he violently jerked away from me and stood up, kicking over his chair in the process. Grabbing his overcoat, he stormed out of the room without even a backwards glance, slamming the glass door so heavily I was afraid it might shatter.

"Fuck,"

***

"So how'd it go?" Jenny asked as she let me into her office.

"Not bad," I said, taking the proffered seat, still feeling bad at how he'd stormed out on me.

"Well judging on how he ran out of the place I'm going to guess not good either,"

"Fair point. Jenny can I ask you a question?"

"You really need to stop asking that," she replied exasperatedly, pushing a button on the intercom, "James can we get a couple of coffees?"

"Sure Ms. Alswel," his voice came through the speakerphone and I was grateful for the thought, I hadn't had my usual afternoon caffeine boost and I was really starting to notice last night's lack of sleep.

"Why does he get to call you Ms. Alswel but you bite my... um, I mean you prefer it when I call you Jenny?"

"Bite your head off?" She supplemented, raising her eyebrows and smirking.

"Um... well... I wouldn't... Yeah" I finished lamely.

"Well, James is stubborn and after the hundredth or so time I just gave up. Was that your questions?"

"Maybe I should be a bit more stubborn then," I grinned back, "And no that wasn't my question."

"If you try you will find yourself back in the bullpen faster that you can count to ten," even though she was smiling I decided not to try my luck, "Okay then, what's your question?"

"You think he did it don' you?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Both I guess,"

"Bloody lawyers" Jenny then paused for a long moment and I could tell she was considering whether or not to give some flippant answer along the lines of: it doesn't matter if I believe him or not, just how well I defend him. Eventually however, it seemed she decided on the truth.

"No, I don't. I've read the evidence and heard his story and... well it just doesn't make sense. Do you?"

"Yes," I surprised myself with my answer, I wasn't a hundred percent certain but the display he put on in the conference had moved me.

"Why?" I told Jenny the version Jackson had told me, told her of how he had broken down, and of how he seemed to have lost all hope.

"He could be playing you," She voiced my own treacherous thoughts.

"Yeah, but... why? I mean we're his lawyers, we're on his side anyway right?"

"There's being on his side and being on his side," when I looked non-plussed she continued, "Listen, there are good lawyers that win cases when they know their client is guilty: they get off on the thrill of beating the legal system; then there are great lawyers that win an unwinnable situation because they think their client is innocent."

"Which one are you?"

"I don't know," the brevity of the answer made me believe in its honesty.

***

By the time I got home that evening I was absolutely shattered, I pushed through my heavy door into the small one bedroom apartment and dropped my leather satchel on the dining table come desk. Jenny had put me to work that afternoon trawling through state's evidence, trying to find... well anything really.

I wasn't too sure that she believed Jacksons new story, but she was at least acting under the assumption that it held some truth, for that matter I was struggling with the tale a bit more than I would have liked to admit myself. I rubbed my shoulder and let out a loud sigh, I desperately needed to see a masseuse, get some of the stress kneaded and beaten out of me.

I went about the laborious task of making dinner, no gourmet five course meals for me tonight. Nope, dinner was a pack of two minute noodles, spiced up with an egg and a handful of spring onion.

As I waited for the pot to boil, I started to flick through the yellow legal pad, looking over the notes I'd made through the day. There had to be something somewhere that gave Jackson just an ounce of credibility.

"If only you hadn't lied to the police," I muttered, flicking through my notes on the seemingly insurmountable evidence the prosecution had put together.

"Maybe there is some way to suppress his interrogation?" I mused as I picked over my shamelessly un-nutritional meal, "Why didn't you have your lawyer present..." It was a question I hadn't thought to ask Jackson, assuming Jenny had already covered it, but what if she didn't? Maybe he hadn't bothered to ask for one? Well, even if that were true was there another way of suppressing his interrogation? Duress? Alcohol? I wasn't sure, I knew contract law inside out, but this criminal malarkey was doing my head in.

I was faced with a decision at that point, I could either spend the next couple of hours trawling through the internet trying to find various precedence and legal basis for which a police interrogation could be suppressed, or I could call Wilma. It really wasn't all that difficult a decision.

***

Wilma's phone rattled against the night stand, the LCD screen flashing with an incoming call.

"Leave it," Dale moaned, kissing her neck and sliding a hand beneath the sheets to cup her naked breast.

"It might be work,"

"It's a Friday night, you're off the clock,"

"We're first year associates, we're never off the clock," Wil grabbed the phone and put it to her ear, "Hey Mark, what's up?"

"Mark? You interrupt for Mark?" Dale half whispered half mouthed, ignoring the shushing motion Wil was making.

"Yeah not much, yourself?" Wil carried on her own conversation as Dale collapsed back on the bed, his hard on tenting the front of the sheets, fuming slightly at being classified as: not much.

'Bloody Mark. Why does he have to call at the least opportune moment... or most,' a wicked thought sprung into Dale's mind and he slowly slithered down the bed until the sheet was pulled up over his head.

He started slowly, at first nothing more than just a gently rub of Wilma's hip, his soft fingertips raising goose bumps upon the soft skin. When he received no resistance, Dale stepped up his plan, slowly and softly placing his lips to Wil's hip, kissing his way up the young woman's side.

"Oh," Wil let slip suddenly as her lover took a soft nipple in his mouth and teased it back to life. "Huh, oh yeah everything's fine," she covered, closing her eyes and letting Dale's mouth work its magic. They'd never played this game before, but she was definitely up for it if he was!

As Dale's mouth let loose upon Wil's small but pert breasts, he explored her body with his fingers, specifically the place between her tight waist and milky thighs. Despite knowing how Wil liked to be touched, Dale decided she needed to be teased a little first, punishment for answering the phone. He let his fingers run from the inside of one thigh to the apex between her legs, up the side of her puffy southern lips, then down to the other thigh; never explicitly touching any of her erogenous zones but still eliciting a few soft moans which he fervently hoped Mark didn't pick up on.