The Sins of the Fathers Ch. 02

"Even if we win. Even if The Practice prevails in court, the client has no money. As far as we are concerned, he's economically indigent. But, moreover, this case will put two well-respected local attorneys up before a judge, fighting for a totally unsympathetic client. The public, our friends, and associates in this small conservative town will take all their business elsewhere. If that isn't enough, they will probably lynch us, along with our client, if we win the case."

Spencer said quietly, "I know, Jack; but I still think you should meet with him."

"Why?"

Spencer studied his friend, his partner in law. "Jack, I thought that was what goodwill in a community was for. It's kind of like a bank account built on community respect, against which you can write a check in bad times to get you through them. As for financial ruin, it's not about the money. It is, however, about the law. The way asset forfeiture is used is offensively unfair. It undermines the foundation of something to which you and I have dedicated our working lives. It undermines the right to counsel. The right to good counsel, when the state brings a person before a judge."

Jack picked up the small glass of bourbon and downed it.

"Why me, Spence? Why not you?" he asked finally.

Spencer replied slowly, haltingly. "Jack, I got hard watching the evidence, the film of him and his teenage daughter. I couldn't help myself. I thought about MacKenzie; and, just for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be with my daughter. That just ain't right. Jack, I've spent every night, since she was twelve or thirteen-years-old, not thinking about her like that. I may be a lawyer, but I still know right from wrong."

"Yeah," Jack conceded, consciously resisting the urge to clear his throat. Clearly, the evidence tape had shaken Spencer. After last night, that was something Jack Grant could understand. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"I don't allow myself feel like that about Nikki."

Spence wouldn't let him off the hook. "Are you telling me you've never thought about it when you've looked at Nikki? Come on, doesn't she remind you, just a little, of Jenn?"

Jack, who was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation, shook his head. "Look, I admit that, sometimes, when she comes out of the shower in a white cotton towel or when she wears one of my dress-shirts as a nightie and nothing else but a pair of white socks. Yeah, I get wood."

They studied one another, both sensing something left unsaid. Jack glanced away first.

"Nikki reminds you of Jennifer at that age," Spence proffered. "Remember, I was there, too. Let me tell you something, Jack. After Kayla died, Jenn was the only white woman I ever slept with. Hell, truth is that Mac's mom was the only woman I'd ever slept with until Jennifer. Now I kinda like 'em, especially if they're young and small like Jenn was."

Jack was astonished. "I had no idea Jenn was the first and only woman other than Mac's mom. You never told us that. So, have ever think about Mac that way, Spence? You know before seeing the video?"

Spence just stared at him for several moments. Even coming from your best friend, it was a hell of a question; and Jack let him take his time.

"Jack, I don't know how to say this tactfully; No! Fuck no! Hell no! But, I've gotta be honest with you. Watching this guy's daughter giving him head made me really wonder what Mac's mouth would feel like on my cock," he reluctantly confessed.

Mentally, Jack winced, Oh, shit!

He backpedaled, attempting to make a joke of the whole awkward mess. "Well then, if I'm gonna watch it, maybe I'd better bring my raincoat and some popcorn. Buttered, of course."

Shaking his head in amazement, Spencer set the tape down on the desk and headed towards the door. As he opened it, he turned and quipped, "You're one warped fucker, Jack Grant. Even for a white guy."

"I thought you said he recorded it on his phone?"

"No, Jack. I was just answering your question about phones and sex online. The client used a video recorder." Spencer wanted to hit Jack in the head, attorneys are so fucking literal! What fucking difference does it make how he recorded it. Jesus, Jack, get your head out of your ass!

As Spencer closed the door, Jack looked down at the tape. Unmarked and unlabeled, the tape had no number. Jack lifted it and turned it over. No identifying marks whatsoever. It could any blank VHS tape.

VHS! Jesus, who the hell uses VHS anymore?

He hit the intercom key. "Mary?"

As if in answer, there was an immediate knock and the door opened. Mary entered carrying a beat-up, very dusty VHS player. Perched on top of it was a bag of fresh popcorn and a wad of paper napkins. "Spence said you would be wanting these." She had known the two attorneys too long not to smile.

"And the paper napkins?" Jack asked, cocking an eyebrow.

At the door, she turned back around on her heel to face him. "Spencer said, they're for after," she answered, purposely setting the handle's button to its lock position. "You know, for your hands after the popcorn. The butter?"

Ten minutes later he slipped the tape into the player, darkened the room, called Mary and told her not to bother him for about an hour. He found the POWER button.

Jack Grant wasn't thinking about the Law or Asset Forfeiture as the screen came life. He was thinking about a stormy night and a pair of white cotton panties on clean cotton sheets.

No one will ever know! I won't ever talk about it. I won't ever think about it. I'm the only one who even knows it happened. So, it didn't happen!

Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath and pushed PLAY.

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