Wheels In Motion Ch. 02

Her grin threatened to split her face in half. "Great! Shall we?" She offered her arm as if she were an old-timey gentleman. I laughed and hooked my arm through hers.

We walked the two blocks to the stadium entrance. She had our tickets on her phone and we made our way inside. I insisted on buying our food, and the first round of beers, since she'd bought the tickets. Once we went into the arena proper, I was surprised how good our seats were. She'd gotten seats in Section 111 and the view was amazing. I'd never sat in the lower seats, and we were near center ice, about twenty rows up.

"These seats are fantastic," I said. "I hope they didn't cost too much?"

"Nah, actually my boss's boss has season tickets and couldn't go tonight. He gave 'em to me at a discount. I just owe covering a shift for him next time they need a volunteer."

Not only was I happy to be going to a Caps game, but they were playing the Blackhawks. Being from Wisconsin, I had a built-in animus towards all sports teams from Chicago, so I felt right at home when the game started.

During the Blackhawk's first shift we both yelled "Offsides!" at the same time, then turned and grinned at each other. We were yelling at the refs, booing the 'Hawks, and laughing all through the first period.

The Capitols were up two-one during the intermission between the second and third periods, and we were talking about the Caps penalty-killing efforts in the second when she nudged me and pointed up at the jumbo-tron. They were showing members of the crowd with the "Kiss Cam" label flashing at the bottom of the screen. It was pretty hilarious watching all the different reactions. Some people were uncomfortable, some people were overly enthusiastic. Sometimes it was two different reactions from the same couple, which made it both excruciatingly awkward and hilarious at the same time to watch.

Suddenly I was on the screen with the man sitting to my right. The camera man seemed to have assumed I was with him. He looked over at me and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken Well, how about it? while I tried to put my most serious, Are you kidding me dude? look. Suddenly Viv leaned over and, with both hands on my cheeks, turned my head towards her and absolutely laid one on me. I froze, startled as the crowd went wild cheering for us. This kiss was on par with the one she'd given me the night we'd met at the League.

After an interminable moment, she pulled back and grinned at me. I looked up, and we were still on the screen. The man to my right reached over me to high five Viv. The high-definition screen clearly showed that I was blushing dark red from the neck of my shirt up into the roots of my dreadlocks, and my pale blonde hair was only making it more obvious.

After the camera cut away from us, I slowly turned my head back towards Viv. I could see a little doubt creep into her eyes, that she was worried she may have crossed a line.

"Sorry," she said, a little embarrassed, "I didn't think you'd want to be one of the spoilsports who refused to kiss for the kiss cam, and I know you didn't want to kiss that dude."

I tried to emulate Liz's poker face when she was joking with me, and just looked at her.

"I, uh... Addison, listen I'm--"

I reached over, put my hand behind her neck, and pulled her to me as I closed my eyes and I kissed her. Softly. I startled her as much as she'd startled me, apparently, because it took her a second to relax. When she finally did, her lips parted, and our tongues brushed each other's, fleetingly, with the barest hint of a caress.

I leaned back in my seat and winked at her. "Thanks for not letting me be that spoilsport," I said.

After the Caps went on to win four-one, we pondered our options for what to do afterwards.

"Do you want to get out of here and hit the League?" Viv asked me. "I've got a Lyft lined up that can pick us up outside." She held up her phone, showing me the app.

"Yeah, let's get out of here. But I get to pick where we're going since you picked the game.

"Fair enough. Where do I tell the driver we want to go?"

"Georgetown."

Twenty minutes later, we got out in front of L'Annexe in Georgetown. I kept an eye on Viv as she looked around a little uncomfortably.

"Everything good?" I asked.

"I'm good. I just don't come to Georgetown to go out much," she said, the tone in her voice suggesting she'd maybe never been out in Georgetown in her life.

"You'll love it," I assured her.

Since we'd arrived late due to the hockey game, we'd missed the dinner rush. I wouldn't have bothered trying to go there before ten without a reservation or expecting to wait an hour for a seat. The restaurant was half-empty as we walked in.

The hostess recognized me and smiled. "Welcome back," she said. "Dining or drinking tonight?" she asked.

"Drinking, and maybe a little snack. Can we get one of the sofas?"

She looked down at the seating chart on her podium and said, "Absolutely. Please follow me." She grabbed a stack of menus and led the way back into the dark, intimate spaces of the lounge. She sat us at a plush, velvet couch with a low table in front it in a back corner of the restaurant. The empty couches around us provided quite a bit of privacy. I took off my leather jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Viv followed my lead, and then sat next to me.

"I've never been to a place like this," she said in a hushed voice.

"It's just a restaurant. Should I order for us or do you want to stick with beer since we had a couple at the game?"

"Oh, by all means, you should order. I'd hate to deny you the chance to impress me with fancy cocktails," she said, with a grin. The waitress came by and, without looking at the menu, I ordered the cheese plate and the chocolate caramel tart and drinks. The waitress nodded and headed off to put in our orders.

"What the hell's an 'On the Vine'?" she asked me. I'd guessed her drink tastes based off of the pink concoction she'd bought me at the League.

"I'll tell you what's in it after you try it."

When our drinks came, she eyed the slightly pale green drink in a large, elegant martini glass. I lifted mine and held it out to her. We clinked glasses then she hesitantly took a sip. Her eyes widened in appreciation.

"That's good. What is it?"

"It's melon-infused vodka and cucumber syrup," I said. "Want to try mine?"

She picked up my glass and took a sip. "Wow! That might be even better!"

"It's grapefruit-infused gin and dry vermouth," I said of my 'Ascots and Coats'. "But if you like those, wait until the chocolate caramel tart comes. I wouldn't kill anyone for it, but I'd definitely hurt someone pretty badly."

She laughed, then stopped, catching herself and looking around like she'd made too much noise at a library. She sat back into the corner of the couch, and the dim lights of the bar showed me uncertainty in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure I'm in your league, Addison," she sighed.

"What? Why would you say something like that?"

"You're obviously... fancier than I am." She waved her hand around the bar. "You didn't just go to college, you went to law school. I barely graduated high school. You're a lawyer. I drive subway trains. You hang out in places like this. I go to hockey games and The League, and--"

"Hey," I interrupted her. "Just because I know a fancy bar doesn't make me out of your league. It just means I've had opportunities to find places like this and maybe you haven't, and that's okay. And I like hockey games and The League too. Just because I've gone to school longer than you have doesn't mean I'm a better person than you. If someone ever tries to make you feel that they're better than you because you lack experience, you should know that probably means they actually have less character than you do."

She didn't say anything, just looked down examining her hands. I hated seeing anyone looking down on themselves like this, but I also understood where she was coming from. I'd put the chances of developing a serious relationship at close to zero just because of the gulf between our respective life experiences, but that didn't make me better than her. Or her any less than me. I liked her, and liked hanging out with her. She was quick-witted, if a little inexperienced. I certainly didn't think she should feel she was beneath me.

I slid over closer to her. "You and I talked for an hour at The League, and I wanted to go out with you again. Why would I do that?"

She gave an ironic smile. "Maybe you want to get into my pants."

I chuckled. "Except I told you then I don't do one-night stands and I also don't go home with someone on the first date. And usually not the second, and sometimes not the third. So why would I go out with you tonight?"

She didn't answer but looked up at me.

"It's because I kind of like you. And I want to see if we hang out if I'll like you more. Okay?" I said.

"Okay," she said. She made a little motion towards me, but stopped herself.

I smiled. "I said I don't go home on the first date, Viv. I didn't say I didn't want to kiss you some more." Then I leaned forward and covered her mouth with mine. We were interrupted a few minutes later by the waitress returning with our tart and cheese plate. She gave us a knowing smile and left without making conversation. I leaned back towards Viv but just before our lips touched, she pulled back.

"Wait, what do you mean our first date? What about the night we met at The League?"

I laughed. "Sorry, that doesn't count as a date."

"Dammit, now I have to wait two more dates before I might get you into bed?"

I giggled loudly, but was interrupted by her kissing me again as she tangled a hand into my dreadlocks.

~~ District of Columbia Courthouse, Washington, DC, April ~~

The arrival of Spring had brought warm weather and blue skies to the District, prompting me to wear one of my favorite spring outfits to court. Dressed in a pale pink Armani pant suit with shiny black heels, I had a little spring in my step as I walked up the steps into the District Courthouse. I'd tried enough cases in the past few months that I was no longer feeling the nerves. I was also taking a personal day so Liz and I could play hooky that next Friday and see the cherry blossoms around the tidal basin by the Jefferson Memorial. They were expected to hit peak bloom, and I wanted to try and get some good photos.

The prospect of spending the whole day with Liz, soaking up sunshine, then going to my second Rotor's show in Arlington had me smiling and nodding pleasantly at almost everyone I passed. Add that I was going to go out with Viv again on Saturday, and it was shaping up to be a good weekend.

"Hey Charlie. Beautiful day, isn't it?" I asked the guard at the security checkpoint, as I ran my purse and briefcase through the x-ray machine and stepped through the metal detector.

"Sure is, Miss Wagner," he said with a smile, handing me my bags.

"Charlie, if you don't start calling me Addison, I'm going to start calling you Officer Christie again."

"Oh no!" he said, with mock horror. "I'll try, Addison. So many of the lawyers are stuffy, so it's hard to break the habit."

I laughed. "Well, I'm not one of those lawyers. Have a good one, Charlie."

"You too, Addison."

"See! There you go!"

I made my way to Courtroom 210, settled at the plaintiff's table and started spreading out my papers while I waited for my client.

I'd had a few meetings with Megan to take some lessons on the finer points of trial strategy. It really was all in the preparation as she'd said. I thought back to our last session, in the conference room of our Seven Corners office, over salads and coffee.

"The best approach is to spend some time thinking like a vindictive, petty little man," Megan had said, "'I'm pissed at this woman for daring to try and leave me. What can I do to fuck up her life more?' Then take your ideas and pre-plan your responses to those avenues of attack. Have responses ready to go for anything like that you can think of."

"That sounds like a lot of work, and also a bummer to have to think like that," I said.

"Yeah, it can be. But the more you do this, the more familiar you'll be with the different scenarios and you can just plug and play the work you've done in the past. What are the couple's finances like? Are they both poor? Or do they have money, but the husband has done a good job of cutting her off and that's why she's come to us? Is there violence involved? Kids? The more you think about all this ahead of time, the more prepared you'll be to just pull a filing out of your briefcase to hand to the bailiff, or you'll have the right precedent right at your fingertips"

"Okay, makes sense," I nodded, taking notes as she spoke.

"So, the preparation is your ammunition. How you deploy what you have is the gun you load it into."

"What? What does that mean?"

"Well, you've seen me in court, right?"

"Yes."

"What do you notice about the lawyers I face on the other side of the aisle? How does the hearing usually go?"

"The three times I've watched you..." I thought about it for a minute. "Two of them ended up getting pissed and yelling at you or the judge."

"Right! I make a point to try and be ready to counter any slick idea they think they have immediately. Nine times out of ten, it's always some motion to reduce or eliminate alimony or child support. It's always about the money with these guys. They're usually assuming I'll need until the next hearing to be ready to respond. Part of their strategy is to draw it out as much as possible hoping the woman will run out of money for the legal processes. By having something I can just throw out, and immediately counter them instead of waiting to respond another day, flusters the hell out of them. Especially if it's a male attorney. They take one look at me and think 'Oh this little sweetheart doesn't have a chance against me!' Then I hand them their heads, and they completely lose their cool. Now, that doesn't work all the time, but preparing to pull that off is just good practice. Then, if the wheels do come off their bus, so much the better for you, right?"

I looked at her thoughtfully. "So, how much of this 'giggly punk rock girl' thing you have going on is a front you put on to throw people off for when you're ready to slide the knife in?"

She gave a full-throated laugh, throwing her head back. "Addison, this is the real me. Courtroom-me is the mask. Kat would have never fallen for courtroom-me. Me-me is what won over her and Cait."

I smiled, remembering that conversation as I laid out all my papers on the table. My opposing counsel was also present and setting up, but neither one of our clients had arrived yet. I frowned looking at my watch, then back to the courtroom door. It was really unusual for Keisha to not be early, and she'd never been late for any appointment since I started working with her.

"All rise!" the bailiff called out, a few minutes later, when the judge entered and took her place on the bench. Judge Cynthia Yang sat, put on her glasses, and then looked out at her courtroom.

"Counselors? I believe we were supposed to be having a hearing right now. Where are your clients?"

"I apologize your honor, I don't know where my client is. She's never missed a meeting with me, and she didn't call or email to let me know she'd be late or wouldn't make it."

Keisha's husband's lawyer made similar apologies for his client.

The judge looked at us for a moment, frowning, then said, "Alright, let's give them ten more minutes then we'll reschedule. And we'll have to have a conversation about court costs with both your clients."

After ten minutes, with neither of our clients showing up, Judge Yang rescheduled the hearing for the following week. I packed up my papers, then I called the office as I walked towards the street.

"She didn't show?" Anna, the receptionist at the LWLS DC office said, when I called to check if there was a message from Keisha.

"No and I'm worried. I think I might swing by her place and check on her."

"I wouldn't do that," she said, then I heard a voice in the background, and Anna's voice, muffled answering it, then MJ was on the phone.

"What's going on, Addison?" my boss asked me.

I filled her in on the details then again said I was thinking of stopping by her apartment to check on her.

"We aren't babysitters. We can't handhold every client every step of the way. She'll call and we'll find out what happened and move on to the rescheduled hearing, okay?"

"Okay, MJ. I've got to run a quick personal errand, then I'll be back in the office." By that time, I'd made my way out of the courthouse and into the bright April sunshine.

"Good, see you then."

I hung up the phone, then pulled up my Lyft app and requested a ride to the Petworth neighborhood where Keisha's apartment was.

The place was very quiet as I climbed the steps up to her third-floor walkup. It didn't feel like anyone was home in the entire building, but it was the middle of the day. I checked my phone for the apartment number again as I reached the third floor. I wrinkled my nose. There was a familiar acrid smell that danced away from the edges of my memory. I walked past two doors to reach apartment 304. As I raised my hand to knock on the door, two things happened. I realized the door was ajar, and I also remembered where I knew the smell from. Just flashes, really; memories of shooting a rifle with my grandfather in rural Wisconsin when I was a girl. The smell of spent gunpowder.

I called out, "Keisha?" as I pushed the door open. I looked into the room and saw her lying next to the couch, with rivulets of dark scarlet running over the floor away from her.

"Keisha!" I screamed, and ran over to her.

She was unconscious, with a huge splotch of blood on her shirt just above the waist of her pants. There was a small hole in her shirt with more blood oozing out of it. I pulled out my phone and dialed nine-one-one. Then I grabbed a blanket off the couch, folded it up, and pressed it hard to the hole in her abdomen. I remembered in a conversation I'd had with Liz, that stopping the bleeding was the most important thing in a battlefield wound, and that most soldiers who had been shot died because of blood loss.

I put my phone on speaker and used both hands to press down on the wound. In less than a minute, the dispatcher told me she had an ambulance on the way to me, and was asking me questions about her breathing, if she was awake, if I knew where the shooter was. I didn't remember answering her questions. I don't remember any of it until the paramedic pulled me away from her. He took over, pulling off the blanket and replacing it with a large gauze pad while his partner wheeled a stretcher in.

There were police officers in the room as well. I started to follow the paramedics as they rushed Keisha out of the apartment and down the stairs, but a huge policeman stopped me from going out and started asking me questions.

"I am going with her to the hospital right now!" I yelled at them, trying to push past. They held me in the apartment, not letting me leave. Just then a short African-American police woman walked in, whom I immediately recognized.

"Officer Green!" I yelled. She had been with one of my clients at GW the night I'd met Liz.

"Ms. Wagner, what is going on?"

"That's my client they just took out of here! She no-showed a hearing and I came to check on her and found her shot. I need to go with her to the hospital right now! I'll answer any questions you want, but I am going with her!"