“Switching sides already.” Adam shook his head.
“Hey, it's the New York Times, not the National Enquirer,” Mark shot back. “I just figured that Senator Pierce might be interested in knowing that his son is dating the Kingmaker’s daughter.”
“My dad does things strictly by the book,” I said. “He wouldn’t make a bed without asking three people to advise him, two people to draft proposals and someone to provide catering. He’s not sitting in some smoky back room plotting the future of the country.”
“Can I see the article?” Braden asked. Mark passed it over and Braden took a few minutes to read it.
“My dad would probably just find it an amusing coincidence. For the record, he’s not the pawn of any secret cadre of businessmen with moderate political views.” He winked at me and my tummy fluttered again. Ha! I was on the teasing end for a change and Braden was on my side! I loved it!
“I think you guys should take a road trip to Roswell,” I joked.
“Maybe you can prove that Elvis is still alive and break the Da Vinci Code on the way,” he added and I giggled. Mark and Adam gave each other a look.
“I think it’s just the two of us now, Adam,” Mark said.
“Want to lay some cash on how long he has?” Adam asked.
“Six months,” Mark answered.
“Until engagement or actual marriage?”
“Just until engagement. You’ve got to give him some time to get past denial and make it to acceptance.”
“Nah. What are you, blind? This is only their second date and he may not even have banged her yet. He’s going down like the Hindenburg this time, man. I say engaged in three, married in six.” Adam smiled and sipped his beer “It was a good run though, Brade.” He lifted his beer in a toast.
“You’re nuts!” Mark replied. “I say, you’ve got to give him some time to get her under control. I think she’s more dangerous than people realize. Engaged in six, married in twelve.”
“You’re on. I’ll take that action for a Benjamin,” Adam said and wrote something down on a scrap of paper and stuck it in his wallet.
“Isn’t betting illegal in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania outside of licensed venues?” I asked Braden with a smile.
“We might have to make a citizen’s arrest,” he smiled back.
The pizza arrived and I have to admit that watching the game was actually kind of interesting. I wanted to demonstrate that I was interested in learning more about the things Braden liked, so I asked questions and made a few observations – although admittedly, some of them may have been a little… odd. I even found myself cheering at various times. Once it was at the wrong time, but Braden cleared that up. Several times I caught him watching me and smiling as I stared at the screen, my brows furrowed in concentration. I definitely amused him.
When the game was over, I helped him to clean up and he seemed to like watching me do that too. In fact, he seemed almost fascinated by watching me do the dishes and put them away for some reason. I had a feeling that my shorts were probably riding up every time I reached for the top cupboards. Mark offered to walk me two blocks back to my building before driving home. Before I left Braden gave me a sweet goodbye kiss which, of course, led Adam and Mark to both tell us how disturbingly cute we were and led Adam to inform Mark that he should be prepared to pay up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IN THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS OF PHILADELPHIA COUNTY,
PENNSYLVANIA
Monday
Commonwealth v. Sanchez
Braden was questioning the witness, Mr. Lao, owner of a corner market that my client had held up. I won’t even say “allegedly” held up because I was quickly discovering that there was pretty much no doubt whatsoever that my client was guilty. Mr. Lao was a small, highly agitated man who spoke with a heavy accent and gestured a lot with his hands. His message, nevertheless, was coming across loud and clear. We were screwed.
“So Mr. Lao, it’s your testimony that the defendant, Mr. Sanchez, held you up at gunpoint and asked you to open your cash drawer. What happened then?” (My client claimed that this was all a big misunderstanding, incidentally.)
“He say ‘not enough money’ and he look mad. Then he tie me up with tape and I sit behind counter.” Yeah, kind of hard to see how this could have been a misunderstanding.
“And what did Mr. Sanchez do then?”
“He work register. Wait on customer. Take money.” I forced myself not to roll my eyes. Inner-Gabrielle was slapping my client upside the head.
“Wait a minute!” Judge Channing cut in incredulously. “Did you just say that he worked the register?!” I sighed. Why did I always get these cases?
“Yes. He wait on customer. Make change,” Mr. Lao answered.
“How long did he do this?” Braden asked, glancing at me. Here it comes. Are you ready for it?
“Eight hour.” Cue confetti!
“He worked a full shift?!” Judge Channing cut in again. I saw Braden cover his mouth and turn toward the prosecution table to fumble with some paper. Yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy.
“Yes. He good worker.” Braden coughed.
“No further questions Your Honor.”
“Ms. Ginsberg!” Judge Channing looked at me dubiously.
“Mr. Lao,” I said rising to my feet. “English is not your first language, is it?”
“No.”
“And Mr. Sanchez spoke with an accent. True?” (Not like tying him up hadn’t given him a hint to my client’s intentions.)
“Yes. He have accent.”
“Thank you. No more questions.” I sat down.
“Any redirect?”
“Just one question, Your Honor,” Braden replied. “Mr. Lao, did you understand everything that Mr. Sanchez said to you?”
“He say give me all your money or I shoot you. You see when you look at security camera video.” Yep. We were screwed. Inner-Gabrielle started filing her nails. This one was over.
“No further questions.”
“I’m assuming there’s no argument, Ms. Ginsberg?” Judge Channing asked, giving me a look that clearly said that there had damned well better not be any. I tapped my pen against my legal pad as if I were actually giving it careful consideration and making a strategic decision to hold off. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I had nothing.
“No, Your Honor, however, we hope to discuss the possibility of a plea bargain with the Commonwealth.”