Jury Duty

I would like to thank my friend pennylin for her suggestions and beta reading of this story. It wouldn't have existed without her influence.

*****************

"Will the jury please remain seated as we clear the court?"

Chase Griffin had a headache, and he was, not for the first time, regretting he'd ever answered the summons. The trial had gone on for more than a week, with each side presenting numerous witnesses. He'd made up his mind, though, after the first afternoon's testimony. Now they had to 'deliberate' - which meant some of the bleeding hearts would be reluctant to see reality for what it was. He would have to push to make his observations known, and then hope he could push hard enough for the rest of them to vote the way he felt was only right. After all, you can't just take authority away from the people trusted to protect you, could you?

"...to the best of your ability, and do not feel as if you have to rush to judgement. This case could become a landmark case for years to come, so please, do your civic duty as best you are able, I implore you. If there are any questions, do not fail to call on clarification from the stenographer's records. That's what they are provided for."

The judge finally ran down, though Chase hadn't heard most of it. The voice inside his head was busy formulating arguments for the debate he knew was to come. 'God, how did I get sucked into this?' he groaned inwardly.

The jury was diverse. Three of them were black, chosen for the color of their skin; not for their ability to weigh the facts and come to an unbiased conclusion, he felt. One was an Asian girl, cute as hell but not likely to be able to make an appropriate decision, either. She was barely out of her teens, from the looks of her! And of the total of twelve, seven were women. This cop most certainly had the odds stacked against him.

"It's getting late. The jury will break for the night, and then return at 8:00 tomorrow morning, promptly. Please be back here on time. It may be a long morning and afternoon, so remember there will be plenty of water available. Snacks can also be supplied, if necessary."

'Water? Snacks? Good god, how long is this gonna take?' he asked himself, though he knew this was not going to be cut-and-dry. This was, after all, a highly contested case. The verdict, he knew, could make them celebrities, if any of them decided to take their story to the press, after all was over. He dreaded the inevitable hoards of press, once the verdict was read, whatever it was. They had been gathering in greater numbers in the courtroom during the trial; he had no doubt they'd be hovering, like sharks, once they reached their decision and delivered it to the court. He held his hand up.

The judge acknowledged him, and asked if he had a problem. Chase said no, but wondered, "Are we going to be sequestered at some point?"

To his relief, the judge answered in the negative. "No," he said, "I don't anticipate that. But you need to be thorough, no matter how long it takes. I will be officiating other cases in the meantime, but the jury pool will be expected to meet for as long as necessary - days or weeks, if that's what it takes - to render a verdict unanimously. Once you have reached that verdict, I will be called back to accept that verdict, and to officiate the conclusion of the case. Until then, you belong to this court."

'Days? Weeks?' As they filed out of the jury box, Chase shook his head. He paused to allow the ladies out before him, and to get a better look at all of them. Nobody looked up at him except the Asian girl, who smiled briefly at him.

"Hope you don't have anywhere to be," she quipped, then dropped her eyes. He didn't smile in return, but he did allow himself more than a glance at her as she passed. He'd been noticing how she dressed during the past week and a half. Sometimes it was dresses, sometimes a t-shirt and slacks. She wore a beige top today, and tight black jeans that accentuated her narrow waist and tiny butt. Her manner of dress made her appear even younger, to his sixty-two year-old eyes. 'They didn't make them like that when I was in my twenties,' he mused. 'Well, that was more than fourty years ago. Things have definitely changed since then,' he decided.

Three overzealous reporters were waiting them outside, even though they had been cautioned not to speak to the members of the jury during the trial. Sharks! Chase walked past them, not speaking, his eyes on the girl's butt. She didn't speak to them either, but did take a card from one of the reporters. He caught up with her.

"Hey," he said. She turned to look up at him, then looked back at the ground as she walked. She seemed to be blushing.

"You shouldn't encourage them," he told her, and reached to take the card from her hand.

"I... I wasn't going..." she said softly, and handed it to him, still without looking at him. Then she veered off towards her car.

Chase's car was three spots behind hers, a citation sticking out from under the wiper. He realized he'd forgotten to put the court-issued paper tag up where it could be seen on the dash. "Oh, for Christ sake!" he muttered, snatching the red ticket up. He slipped it in his shirt pocket as he turned to listen to the starter whine on the girl's beat-up white Toyota sedan. It took three tries, but finally caught, and he smiled as a plume of blue smoke issued from the tailpipe. 'Japanese cars,' he thought, and rolled his eyes as he got into his Ford truck.

The next day was torture. Sides were clearly drawn, and his was not well represented. The original argument involved a black man who had been charged with resisting arrest, after having been ordered to get out of his car. It was a white cop, and it had ended in a scuffle and eventual arrest. The black man had been found innocent of the charge. Now he had brought a lawsuit against the cop, and it was in their hands. Carl found himself siding with the police.

"Sure, he got beat up pretty bad, but I mean, why did he not just do what the cop asked," Chase argued. "And what was he doing out there at three o'clock in the morning?"

The Asian girl rolled her eyes, a motion not lost on Chase. "Pretty bad? You think? He ended up with a broken arm, and the cop left him in the back of his car, handcuffed and in pain, while he stopped to get a coffee and sweet roll!"

Another woman joined in. "He treated that man like a criminal without even knowing him, just because he was black!"

Chase glanced at the three black people in the room, all of whom had remained silent. Two were men, one a woman. "It was three o'clock in the morning," Chase repeated. "Who takes the time to get to know a guy sitting in a dark car at that time of morning?"

One of the black men spoke. "Especially a dark man," he said. "So any brother who's out at that time must be up to no good?"

Chase turned to him. "Yes," he said immediately, then softened a little. "I mean, you have to assume." This was turning into exactly what he feared: another BLM argument.

The woman spoke up again. "He had just gotten off work. Does it matter why he stopped?"

Chase took a deep breath. "To the cop, I'm sure it did."

The argument continued. To Chase's relief, another white man took up his side, and argued that the man had refused to get out of his car. "Hence, the resisting arrest charge. That it was disproven later doesn't have anything to do with this case."

More voices suddenly shouted that it had everything to do with this case, and they went back and forth for the next couple of hours, until the foreman, a white man who had pretty much remained out of it, called one of the court bailiffs for a break. They filed out to the restrooms and to hit the vending machines. Chase caught up with the Asian girl, who had just lost a pack of crackers when they hung up on the coiled aluminum rack that held them. She slapped ineffectually at the glass front.

"Here," he said, and smacked the side of the machine twice. The crackers dropped into the receiving tray. She thanked him without looking at him, grabbed the package and turned away.

"Hey, you're welcome," he said.

She murmured a thanks under her breath and tore into the package like it had just insulted her. "I..." She turned back to him, but still wouldn't look at him. "I'm sorry. For what's going on, I mean. It's going to be a long day, isn't it?"

He sighed. "Not if we can all be objective, no."

"You think this is about us?" she asked, her voice rising. When her eyes looked into his, they were blazing. She attempted to stare him down, but she couldn't keep it going for long. He grinned at her.

"Hey, easy," he said. "We're supposed to argue in there, not out here."

"Shit." She bit into a stale cheese cracker. "You're right," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Different viewpoints. That's what makes us America," he said. He reached out on an impulse, and took her chin with two fingers, raising her face towards his. "You apologize too much."

Her eyes were liquid brown, full of expression. She attempted to look away from his unwavering scrutiny, but he wouldn't let her. All she could think to murmur was, "sorry."

Chase laughed loudly. He looked down at her; this pretty girl who bore little resemblance to the Asians he'd dealt with in Viet Nam, so many years ago. This girl was smart, but she carried that same air of submissiveness that most Asian women seemed to have. "What's your name?" he asked.

It was almost a whisper when she said, "Amy."

He nodded. "Okay, Amy what? Wing? Wong? What?" He thought he was being funny, and didn't consider the pain that stereotyping her could inflict.

Her eyes again blazed at him. "It's Harris, for your information," she said in a louder voice. Then she dropped her eyes and blushed furiously.

Chase felt stupid for a moment. "Now I'm sorry," he said aloud, "that was a totally inappropriate thing to say." He was watching her closely, and noticed a grin cross her face, though she still stared at the floor. It seemed like she was entertaining some sort of inside joke. He wanted to know what it was. "What's so funny? Are you grinning at what a dick I am?"

Unable to contain it any longer, Amy burst out laughing. She put her hand over her mouth, but it did little to hide the gales of laughter she was suppressing. Finally, she blurted out, "No, no! It's just that... my maiden name was Wang."

Chase had no idea how to respond to that. She was barely chuckling, though her eyes still looked like she might burst out laughing again at any moment. Sure enough, glancing up at him, she lost it again. Seeing him embarrassed, her laughter came harder.

"Oh my god! Your face..." she said between outbursts, "that was... just too much!"

Chase allowed her laughter to subside, suitably humiliated by his own stupidity. The girl suddenly seemed to be afraid she'd crossed a line; she looked up at him out of the corners of her eyes again. "I'm sorry," she said, and bit her tongue to keep from another outburst.

"So... you're married?" he asked. She walked away, still smiling.

They went back at it again when they got inside. Amy was unwilling to change her stance on the policeman's guilt in overzealously beating the man, and Chase was equally convinced that he was in the right. A few of the other jurors seemed to be waiting for the two of them to argue it out before taking a side. Finally, they broke for a late lunch, still split into two opposing camps.

Chase caught up with Amy on the way to her car. "Hey, Amy Harris." he said, "where are you going for lunch?"

Amy wasn't sure what to make of this older man, who seemed determined to interact with her. He made her nervous, with his gaze that seemed to look right through her, and all his questions. Amy had always had a certain infatuation with white guys, though she'd never given much thought to a man in his sixties. This guy had a certain way of carrying himself, though, that made it difficult for her to look into his eyes. He was confident and he intimidated her, but he seemed safe enough. She turned slightly as he caught up with her.

"Why? You want to argue some more?" she asked defiantly.

His low chuckle unnerved her. "Certainly not," he replied. "I watched you trying to start your car yesterday, and I wanted to make sure you actually got back from lunch. So we could argue some more," he added.

She laughed. "Hey, I always do," she said bravely. "It's not pretty, but it doesn't run very good, either."

"Well, just so you don't have to prove it to anyone, why don't you let me drive. What have you got in mind to eat?"

Amy wanted so badly to say, "chow mein," but she bit her lip. "I don't know," she admitted, "as long as it's cheap."

"You let me worry about that," he said as he took her arm and guided her toward his pickup.

Amy felt a familiar tingling at his touch. As he held the passenger door for her and waited for her to climb into the truck, she inhaled slightly. He smelled good; not like cologne and not like sweat. Somewhere in between, she decided.

Chase had noticed. "You don't like the way I smell?" he asked her pointedly. She didn't know it, but he had suffered a momentary pang of embarrassment, wishing he'd used a little more Old Spice after he shaved. It had been a long morning, already.

She hastened to assure him he was fine. "I... I was just..." Her voice trailed off, and Chase grinned as he watched her. She looked really good, in the smart skirt and white cotton blouse she'd worn today. He waited for her to belt herself in before he shut the door and came around.

Amy was flustered. He filled her senses, but in a good way. There was no way she could look directly at him, but she watched him obliquely as he started the truck and pulled out into traffic. She squeezed her thighs together. It felt a little arousing to be in a strange man's vehicle; perhaps a little scary. 'What if he...' She didn't allow herself to go there, because she was already agitated. She didn't quite understand why, but the feeling wasn't altogether unpleasant.

He drove them to a small restaurant that was a little above the fast-food budget she'd hoped for, but it was nice. They sat in a small booth, their feet touching. To her relief, he didn't want to talk about the trial. Instead, he asked her about her husband, and quite a few other personal details. She answered him honestly; perhaps too honestly. It felt strange to divulge the fact that Gary seemed more interested in his friends these days than in her, but he didn't press her. Still, once the dam was breeched, she volunteered more.

"He... sometimes he acts like I'm just there to clean the house and cook," she said. "Like, don't I matter?"

Chase didn't answer. He only gazed at her, idly chewing his food. Finally, after a long pause, he said, "He's a damn fool."

Amy slowly raised her eyes to his. "Thank you," she said softly. At that moment, she felt herself falling for him. He was a man of few words, of questionable ideology but impeccable manners. She gazed at his clear blue eyes and his lined face, and tried to imagine some of the things he must have gone through in his life. It was only then that she dropped her gaze, and noticed his wedding ring for the first time.

"What's your wife like?" she asked.

"She's there."

Man of few words, indeed! Amy tried to imagine what she must look like, what she must be like. She found herself hoping that she was, like her husband, not appreciative of the things he did, but she realized she was being silly. 'She's probably wonderful,' she told herself.

Lunch seemed way too short. Chase paid, over her protests, but promised to let her pay the next time. 'So there will be a next time,' she thought, and pressed her thighs together again as she sat in his truck on the way back to court. She realized she'd been doing that regularly. She felt damp, and smiled.

"You enjoyed that," he said, noticing her smile. As always, it was a statement, but he probably had no idea of exactly what part of it she enjoyed, or how much. Or maybe he did; he didn't miss much.

"Yes," she said, grinning at him. "Very much."

The deliberations went on, and Friday came. Most of the jury members were of the opinion that the officer had abused his power, thanks to Amy's arguments. Only two of the members held out, Chase one of them. He seemed to be softening, though. The arguments were no longer contentious; more like discussions of exactly how far a policeman's powers of arrest should go. As they left the courthouse for the weekend, she asked him what he was thinking.

"I think I'm beginning to understand a little more," he told her. "Thanks to you.". He had his hand on her arm as they walked. They'd become closer after sharing lunch for three straight days, and Amy knew she'd miss his company for the next two.

"So, I think I need a drink, after all that."

Chase didn't respond immediately, and she chastised herself internally for appearing too forward.

"I'm sorry. If you don't..."

He interrupted her. "Oh, I drink," he said with a chuckle. "And that's the last time I want to hear you say you're sorry." His hand tightened on her arm, and he stopped, pulling her close to him.

"This is all going to be over soon," he said somberly.

She nodded, looking at his chest. "Yes."

He studied her face. "You know, I might have changed my mind about some things sooner, but it meant we'd all go our separate ways. I think, in my head, I didn't want that."

Amy felt short of breath. She had a sudden desire to wrap her arms around his neck and tell him that she didn't either, but she couldn't find the words. When it was just the two of them, this close, all she could do was react to him. She felt like she was drowning. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She looked up at him, and made a decision.

"We don't have to," she said softly, managing to look into his eyes.

Chase, for his part, had known he was falling for this girl. He'd tried not to, but he had to be honest: everything she did, every look, appealed to him more and more. What she saw in such a much older man escaped him, but he didn't want to question it. She was classically beautiful. Her clear young face, her expressive eyes, her long black hair - everything screamed Asian, but that no longer bothered him, as it had in the past. He'd pushed himself to reach out to her and had found an intelligent young woman, but at this moment all he could see was her physical self. As he looked down at her his cock stirred, and not for the first time.

"Let's find some place less public," he said, glancing around. He put his hand on her back and she nodded, then took his arm as they walked to his truck.

Chase drove them to the river, to a quiet place under the bridge where boat owners parked their trucks after launching their boats. There were lots of empty boat trailers; people were already out enjoying the weekend. He powered the windows down, and they listened to the sea birds calling. He didn't look directly at Amy, but pulled her towards him, and she nestled against his chest, looking out the windshield at the sky.

"It's nice here," Amy said, in her quiet voice. It sounded a little unsteady, like the beating of his heart in his chest. "It's... peaceful."

Neither of them felt peaceful. Emotions were rolling through Chase like thunderheads. He slid his arm around her shoulder, resting his hand on her tiny waist. He could feel her breathing. She had worn leggings today, with an oversized man's white shirt, and it made him wonder about her husband. 'Where was he? Was he working somewhere, while he sat in his truck with his wife?' When she took in a deep shuddering breath, he slid his hand upward, across her tummy, to just under her breast. She laid her head back on his shoulder.