Pretty Baby Ch. 06

A scandalous grumble rolled amongst the gallery. Arni glared at me. "Angel Escorts," he repeated.

I shook my head. "I remember you and that detective mentioning it to me."

The rumble in the gallery intensified. Arni shot me a vicious look, then stomped back to his table, snatching up a sheaf of paper. "People's F," he called out, and slapped it down on the railing of the witness stand before me. His eyes stared into mine. "Please read the highlighted portion."

I took the page up calmly. "'As an employee for Angel Escorts, I entertained men with social and sexual services explicitly requested by them,'" I read.

"Is that not your handwriting?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"And your signature?"

"Yes."

"So are you contradicting your sworn affidavit before this court, Miss Green?"

I breathed out heavily and looked up to Arni, looking distressed. "S-so that's what this was?" I asked. "You guys trick me into signing this thing and you think that's what I am?"

The row from the gallery grew to a cacophonous roar. The judge hammered his gavel. "Order!"

Arni glowered at me. I didn't have to read his mind to know what he was thinking, and it all came down to two vicious words: You bitch.

He pushed away, struggling to maintain his composure. "Miss Green," he said in an aggressive voice. "You are employed by Angel Escorts. Your 'duties' include dating various men who pay for your time, including, but not limited to, having sexual intercourse with them."

"What!" I cried. "I'm a student! I'm getting a degree in Liberal Arts! Okay, so maybe I don't know what I really wanna do with my life, but I sure as hell don't wanna be a . . . a prostitute!" Laughter from the gallery accompanied my outburst.

Arni stormed back to the witness stand and slapped his hands down hard, making the wedding band on his finger clack loudly. "Don't do this," he seethed in a low tone.

I glared back, narrowing my eyes. Already done.

"Mr. Detweiler?" asked the judge.

Arni pushed back, made an effort to look composed. "I'm sorry, Judge," he said. "I would like a moment with my witness."

The judge, a stocky black man, pursed his lips, then nodded. He rapped his gavel. "Recess!" he called, then fixed his gaze on Arni. "Get your act together, young man."

Arni fumed quietly, his eyes burning as he looked upon me. He didn't say anything as he motioned for the bailiff.

***

"What the fuck is going on!" roared Arni once he, I and Mr. Fuchs were once more in the little room. He tossed his briefcase on the table and stabbed a finger at me. "You get your pretty little whore ass back out there and do it right! No more fucking games!"

I stared back, feeling strangely confident, and took out my cigarette case and lighter. "Fuck off, Arni," I said calmly, and lit a cigarette.

Arni huffed a few times, looking like he was about to hyperventilate. He ran his hands through his hair. "Jesus Christ . . . Jesus Christ . . . okay, you stupid fucking—"

"Shut up, Detweiler," growled Fuchs, stepping into my field of vision as I smoked calmly. The older man's beady eyes bore down into mine. "What's going on?"

I looked to him. "'What's going on?'" I retorted. I smiled. "I'm not testifying against Ian, that's what's going on."

"You prissy, selfish bitch!" cried Arni, finally at wits' end. "I'll get that asshole without you! And you're going to prison, you little cunt! I'll make God damned sure—"

I made a 'tsk, tsk' sound, blowing smoke. "And you were so nice last night when you fucked me."

Arni stopped dead in his tracks, glaring in alarm. Beside me, Fuchs stiffened.

"What the hell is she talking about?" the DA asked.

"N-nothing," Arni stammered, turning away.

"Oh, he doesn't need to say anything," I said, taking the little black case out of my purse. I held it up for Fuchs. "You ever see one of these? It's a digital recorder. Saves as much as, say, two hours and twenty-one minutes of footage, including sound. It's even got this little screen so you can watch what you recorded."

Arni whirled about, staring at me with a dumbfounded, hurt expression. I pushed a few buttons. "Hmm, I like this part," I said. "Right when I'm sitting on your face and you're telling me I have the sweetest pussy in the whole world . . . bet the wife would love to see that."

Arni trembled. "Y-you . . . you evil fucking slut!"

I settled my eyes on him. "Yeah," I said with a smirk. "And you still fucked me."

Fuchs narrowed his eyes angrily as he looked upon the young lawyer. "You stupid shit," he intoned, and shook his head. "Pretty little piece of ass, and she played you. She played you!"

Arni looked like he was about to explode. He lunged forward and grabbed the black case out of my hand before I could react. He threw it on the floor and stomped upon it, like a child having a tantrum. "There!" he yelled, and grinned stupidly. "What you got to say now?"

I shrugged. "Um . . . you owe me three hundred bucks?" I said. "I've got two other copies, you know. In fact, by tomorrow, one of them is going to be landing right on the producer's desk at Channel 12."

Arni slapped his hands over his face. "Oh, God, this isn't happening, this isn't happening . . . ."

Fuchs faced me, his aged face hard. "When did he get to you?" he asked.

I stared back, knowing who Fuchs meant. "The moment I fell in love with him," I said.

That wasn't the answer the DA wanted, I knew. Tough. Fuchs thought quietly, working his jaw. "I want all the copies," he said at last.

I stood. "Sure. After Ian and I walk out of here."

The DA shook his head. "Not gonna happen."

I gathered my courage, hoping upon hope that James -- whom I had seen that morning -- was right. "It will happen. Without my testimony, your case will fall apart. You'll embarrass yourself if you try to go on. That video will make it to the news, the Internet, and everyone will know that the attorneys of the DA's office are just as corrupt as everyone always thought they were."

Fuchs gave me a look. "And you? You're the woman in the footage, after all."

I laughed. "Yeah. I figure I can use it to get into politics."

Arni groaned. "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ . . . ."

"Shut the hell up," snapped Fuchs, then stepped close to me. "You are either one brave, or stupid, little girl," he said.

"Maybe a little of both," I said.

Fuchs laughed mirthlessly. He was not amused. "All right. I'm a smart man; I know when I can't win. But you listen to me, young lady: You and Holloway don't have the upper hand, not by a long shot. My advice? Go away. You stay in this city, and you will be fucked, even harder than you ever have been before. And trust me . . . you won't like it."

I blinked, intimidated, but determined to stand my ground. "We'll leave," I said. "Both of us. I promise."

Fuchs craned, then cracked, his neck. "Let's get this over with."

***

I sat upon the witness stand once again, but this time, it was Fuchs who took the floor. Arni was gone; I don't know where he went. I noticed that his very pregnant wife was gone from the gallery as well. I felt a moment's guilt.

"Counselor?" asked the judge, looking upon Fuchs. "I didn't expect you to take a hand in this case."

Fuchs glanced to me a moment before responding. "Neither did I, Tom," he said casually. "But, uh, some new developments have come to light that suggest that . . . my office took the wrong route in dealing with this case."

Now the hubbub really rose amongst the assembly. My parents looked to each other with wonder. Julie narrowed her eyes and slowly began to smile. My eyes darted from Erin's shocked and smiling expression to Ian's astounded and confused look. It suddenly dawned on me that he had not known what his friends had done for him.

Toward the front of the court room, beside the door, I spied Cleo, giving me a knowing smile as she lowered her sunglasses and winked. Then she was gone, followed by James in his leather jacket and jeans. He smiled as well.

"Karl?" asked the judge in perturbation.

Fuchs took a deep breath. "The people feel compelled to withdraw their case against Ian Malcolm Holloway," he said.

Several cries and shouts rose from the gallery. Ian's wife rose, unexpected relief more than telling upon her face. Ian spun around in his chair toward her, as if asking, 'Is this really happening?' Reporters darted for the door, since they could not use their cell phones in the court room.

The judge gave Fuchs a serious look. "Are you sure of this?"

Fuchs nodded. "Not the time, judge. Not yet."

***

I stayed seated in the witness chair long after the judge had dismissed the jury, after the people in the gallery had left, after all that remained in the small courtroom, smelling of oil soap and age, were a few sheaves of discarded paper on the floor.

I had done it. I don't know how, but I had done it. I had saved myself, and Ian as well. I should have felt happy. I should have felt on top of the world. Instead, I just wanted to cry. But not even the tears would come. I was denied even that.

I heard the echoing footfalls as the door to the court opened and closed. Still, I did not look up.

"Strange days." His words echoed in the room.

I held back a whimper as I heard his voice. I just nodded.

"You never cease to amaze me, Alyssa."

I lifted my head slowly, looking upon Ian. The man I loved, the man I could never have. He had a wondering smile upon his face. The look of worry and age I had seen on him earlier was gone. That made me smile, just a little bit.

His eyes dipped as he stopped a few feet from me. I could understand why he wanted to keep his distance. The power balance between us was now in my favor. He didn't control me anymore, and he knew that. I had saved his life, literally. That put me in control.

"I've made a deal with Fuchs," he said. He took a deep breath. "Rebecca and I are . . . I'm leaving, Alyssa."

I nodded. "Yeah . . . me, too."

His eyes suddenly swelled. He sniffed back the beginnings of tears. His voice was tinged with emotion as he spoke. "Why did you do it? That was a stupid risk, Alyssa. It could have backfired on both of us."

"I know," I said, then released some tension with a short laugh. "But I had some help."

Ian nodded. "Too bad James doesn't work for me anymore. I'd give him a raise."

I stood, keeping my eyes on Ian, and came around the witness stand. Ian watched me as I stepped up to him. He saw me differently now, I could tell. I did, too.

"All my life," I told him. "I've done things for other people. It's all I've ever done. It's like . . . like I was born to make everyone else happy, except me."

Ian nodded, understanding what I meant. "It's time to take care of yourself," he said.

I nodded back, then reached for him, pulling his head down and smothering my lips against his in one last, sweet, passionate kiss. I sighed into his mouth, licked his lips, finally pulled back.

"Good bye, Ian," I said, fighting back my tears.

His jaw trembled, his eyes dripped. He didn't say anything. I stepped away, heading for the courtroom door.

"Alyssa!"

I stopped and turned back, hopeful. Go ahead, Ian, just say it!

But he didn't. He simply stared at me, trying to work his lips around the words that wouldn't come. He finally just sighed and shook his head.

And I smiled. He didn't have to say it after all. "I love you, too, Ian," I said, then turned and left.

***

It felt strangely appropriate that the only time I visited Gary's grave was on what would have been his thirty-sixth birthday.

It was a muggy June day when I got out of my little hatchback and headed through the cemetery. I had always had this Hollywood image in my head that cemeteries were always dark, shadowed places, with grey clouds hovering overhead. But it was actually a pleasant day. The fields were green and birds chirped in the scattered oaks.

It took a while to find the plot. There was a simple headstone engraved with his name, beneath which was etched, 'In memory of a loving father.' My heart fluttered.

"Hi, Gary," I said, my voice barely audible even to my ears.

A slight breeze stirred my hair. "I . . ." I began, then stopped. Talking to a dead man was harder than I thought. "I tried to hate you," I said. "What you did was unforgivable. But . . . I don't know. Maybe, in a way, I can understand what happened. Accept it, even. And, maybe I'll never forgive you, but . . . ."

I twisted the ring around my finger, the blue butterfly ring Gary had given me so long ago.

". . . but I'll always have you in my heart," I finished.

I took the diamond bracelet off my wrist and knelt by the headstone. I looked at the engraving inside the bracelet one last time, our initials separated by a heart. The promise of a love that never was. Then I set the bracelet next to some flowers that had been placed upon the grave. I stood and stepped back.

"Good bye, Gary."

As I headed down the grassy slope, I saw a woman walking up. A little overweight in her corduroy shirt and white shorts, she had a pretty face and short black hair. She held the hand of a young dark-haired girl who carried a bouquet of flowers. An older boy lagged behind, absorbed in his PSP. The boy's features were instantly familiar. He had his father's nose and chin.

Steven, I thought, my heart flipping over in my chest.

"Pardon me," the woman said graciously as she passed. She tugged on her daughter's hand. "Come on, Joyce."

I stopped, watching them pass. The woman continued up the hill toward Gary's grave. I stood rooted like a sapling to the ground, watching as the little girl set the flowers upon the grave and spoke for a few moments. The woman coaxed her son into doing the same, tearing him away from his video game. I stepped closer as the woman spoke.

". . . Mom's doing good," she said, as if having a conversation. Steven and Joyce occupied themselves off to the side. "She's, uh, walking finally." A soft laugh. "Two titanium hips now. We're gonna have to call her the bionic woman."

She sniffed and rubbed her nose. Her eyes were a little red, but she wasn't crying. "We had some good years and some bad ones, Gary," she continued, oblivious to my presence. "I tried to be a good wife, I really did. Maybe you were a selfish bastard sometimes, but . . . you're the man I married, and you gave me two wonderful children."

Her words tugged at my heart as she continued: "They're your legacy, you know. Not . . . not what you did to that . . . that woman." She let out a heavy breath and looked up to the sky. "God! When you called me that night, told me what you had done . . . I was almost glad, you know? I thought she deserved it for what she did to our family."

I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a stab of pain through my heart. I struggled to suppress the tears.

"But it wasn't her. You ruined our family, Gary. All by yourself. If it hadn't been with her, it would have been someone else."

She sighed. "I don't know what I'm trying to say," she said. "But I don't hate you, Gary. I did, but . . . well, you're dead now, so what's the point, right?" She let out a sharp laugh and covered her face. When she lowered her hand, I could see the tears.

"The kids are going to be fine," she said. "The check from your life insurance finally arrived. Half of it I'm setting aside so they can go to college. I'll use the rest to pay off the house, and . . . I don't know. Maybe take a cruise to the Bahamas, like we did on our honeymoon. Anyway, happy birthday, Gary. I hope you really are . . . resting . . . in peace . . . ." her words trailed off, as she looked at the base of the headstone.

She stepped closer, stooped, and took up the bracelet I had left. She frowned as she turned it over.

The she suddenly whirled around, as if instantly aware of my presence. Her red eyes stared at me for a long moment. Neither one of us spoke as the wind whistled between us.

"It's you," she said at last.

I could only nod. "Yes."

She breathed in sharply. "I always wondered what you looked like," she said, seeming so strangely calm. "I should have known. Gary always liked blondes."

I couldn't look at her. "I-I . . . I'm—" I began.

Mrs. Jackson stepped closer to me, holding the bracelet. "He gave you this, didn't he?"

I nodded silently.

"He always was a romantic," she mused. "You know, my birthday was five days after our first date. I'm sure he never told you that. We barely knew each other, and I wasn't even sure of how much I liked him. But . . . he came over to my parents' house, where I was living at the time, and he gave me a 'Pink Lady' jacket. I had barely mentioned how much I wanted it to him on our date, yet he had listened. I still have the jacket."

I sniffled, still quiet, still looking away. I watched as Gary's children chased each other, laughing playfully further down the hill. The were too young to recognize the somber mood of a cemetery.

"You know, I had planned to see you testify," she said. "I couldn't do it. I didn't want to hear all the little details about you and Gary . . . about what he did to you. That would have been too much."

I picked my nails, unable to find the words.

"Guess it doesn't really matter, does it?" she asked rhetorically. "At least another innocent person didn't suffer, right?"

I ground my teeth. "Right."

"At least tell me you loved Gary," I heard his wife say. "And that it wasn't just—"

"I loved him," I said, snapping my eyes up to find hers. "I did."

She almost smiled. "Are you still—"

"No," I said quickly. "That's not me anymore."

Mrs. Jackson nodded, then took a breath. "I always wondered what I would say if I ever met you. Words like 'slut' and 'whore' and 'bitch' came to mind."

I winced slightly. I couldn't blame her in the slightest.

"But I've had time to think," she said. "And reflect. I know what kind of man Gary was. Always thinking with his dick. However, I don't know what kind of woman you are, and honestly, I don't really care. I'm pretty sure I'll never see you again. But I'd like to think that you've learned something from all this, that—"

"I have," I said.

She stopped, and nodded again. "Only time will tell, right?"

I looked away. I wasn't sure what to say, or even if I should speak at all.

"Kids!" called Mrs. Jackson. "Time to go!" She started past me.

"Mrs. Jackson," I said, turning toward her. She stopped and looked back.

"Maybe . . . maybe it doesn't mean anything, but . . . I'm sorry. I really am."

Then, she did smile. She looked down at the bracelet she held, and handed it back to me, clasping my hands in her own for a moment. "It does mean something," she said, then turned away and left, gathering her children.

Epilogue

The bouncer at the door of the nearly-empty bar didn't card me, for which I was glad. It had been a hard semester, what with fifteen hours of classes a week and the stresses of getting used to a new college campus, a new city. But I had managed to fit in, somehow. I made some new friends, got used to my new surroundings.

After finals, though, I really needed a drink and I didn't feel like drinking at home. I was doing a lot less of that. My friend 'Boobie' -- gayest man on the planet and a real riot -- always made sure I was stocked with strawberry vodka at home, and often shared it with me while telling me of the latest 'tasty morsel' he had picked up. It was ironic. No longer a prostitute, and my closest friend was more of a slut than I had ever been.

I went through the pictures of the wedding as I took a seat at the bar. Erin had looked gorgeous in her long ivory gown, with a train that practically went out the door. I smiled as I went through the photos, laughing softly at some of the images. I had gotten pretty drunk at the reception, and one of the pictures showed me and all seven of Erin's bridesmaids mooning the camera. I didn't even remember that.