Chapter Twenty: Every Breath You Take
Phoenix Wright and Kristoph Gavin
The Borscht Bowl Club
Jan 24, 2020, 9:35 PM
Despite having just consumed half a bottle of grape juice, Phoenix's throat felt dry as he repressed a shudder of revulsion creeping over him at the sight of the other man.
Save for his spectacles, Kristoph Gavin, with his immaculate grooming, tanned skin, and flaxen braid could have easily been the doppelgänger of his younger brother, Klavier, the 17-year-old prosecutor who'd helped end the anterior Ace Attorney's legal career. The gentlemanly defense lawyer had never expressed anything but friendliness towards the hobo in the past, as well as display utmost sympathy when he'd been disbarred. He'd even offered to take him out for coffee on numerous occasions, for which Phoenix had always politely demurred.
Ergo, the poker champ had no feasible reason for his incomprehensible heightened sense of alarm around the German man and he cursed himself for such an uncharacteristic mindset. When had Phoenix Wright ever been the paranoid type? If anything, he'd always given people the benefit of the doubt and tried to believe the best in them – it had been these character traits that had resulted in his chosen path as a defense attorney rather than a prosecutor.
The beanie-wearer forced himself to shove his queer misgivings aside and offered his new companion a wan smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Gavin," Phoenix asked impassively, attempting to recover his newfound aura of detached, cool composure. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"
"Why so formal? I tell you all the time to call me Kristoph, please. We are friends, correct?" Kristoph smiled, the practiced gesture not meeting his eyes. It never did. "The Borscht Bowl is quite the fine establishment."
The bindlestiff eyed him skeptically. A fine establishment? The Borscht Bowl? This cesspool is the mother of all dives and we both damn well know it!
In his customary dark blue suit and dark pink tie, Kristoph stuck out like a sore thumb out amongst the other scruffy bar clientele.
Tonight's highlights entailed two drunken Russian guys getting into a heated debate at the bar and the drunk, young, fat couple chewing each other's faces off at the dark corner table. The cherry on top had to be the 50-year-old woman with the questionable profession, draped in a mink stole and a sequined gown with a frontal slit cut way too high to leave much to the imagination, swirling around her glass of vodka at the table in the back. It was definitely quiet, especially for a Friday.
However, the pianist didn't mind. Fewer patrons meant fewer people's ears would have to suffer his still lackluster piano playing. And he knew that things would pick up at 11:00 though, which was when he would be finished playing his set and would head downstairs to The Hydeout to begin playing poker.
"And visiting here also allows me to hear my favorite tickler of the ivories make his personalized brand of… music," the blond finished, his disingenuous smile growing even more acrid.
"You've come around before?" Phoenix couldn't mask his surprise this time. "And you say you've heard me play?"
"Many, many times, Herr Wright." Kristoph swirled the contents of red wine in his glass before taking a sip. "You have simply been too engrossed in your performing all the times I have been here though, nor would you have possibly noticed my face in the normal crowd."
A ghost of a smile flickered across his effeminately chiseled features.
"It is usually much more packed though. I guess people are still too broke from Christmas to be spending their meager remaining funds at the bar, hmmm?"
His mind was reeling. Kristoph had been able to come and see him play…spy on him, essentially, all these months, and he'd never noticed?
How was that even possible? The pianist stared at him, too stunned at this unexpected bit of information to reply.
A dull roaring sensation began flooding Phoenix's ears, along with the lyrics to the catchy retro tune. A song that suddenly seemed all too applicably eerie.
It was the haunting lyrics to "(I Always Feel Like)" Somebody's Watching Me by Michael Jackson.
The defense attorney didn't seem to notice that his companion hadn't replied to his rhetorical statement and took another sip of wine.
"Marvelous," Kristoph said with an appreciative nod, placing the glass back down on the bar.
Phoenix nodded tersely in reply.
Gimme a break! We both know that stuff is crap! Why the pretense? Even as a none-wine connoisseur, I knew the stuff is complete and utter piss-water swill!
"We have not seen each other in many months, Herr Wright," Kristoph chattered idly. "How are you faring? And how is young Trucy?"
The mention of his little girl's name set off alarm bells in the card shark's mind, as the last time he had seen Kristoph, it'd been at his Bar Association hearing, where the German had been the sole dissenter to vote against having his badge stripped. Since then, he'd vetoed the initial offer to go for a drink immediately afterward, and repeatedly demurred each subsequent invite ever since.
Ergo, Phoenix had no idea how Kristoph had gotten wind that he had a daughter – he'd essentially disappeared into the underground since losing his badge, out of the public eye, and few others knew of his whereabouts or doings ever since. All that he knew was that he most certainly hadn't informed the lawyer of any such information! Sure, he'd brought Trucy to work with him often for poker tournaments, but The Hydeout was a tiny cellar room that could seat no more than five people, maximum, so he would have most definitely noticed if the sinister presence had ever appeared there to see him and Trucy in action – which he could have sworn he never had!
A growing sense of apprehension began to fill him, even as he tried to convince himself he was overreacting. Despite the fact he hadn't laid eyes on Kristoph in nearly a year now and had never bothered to reply to any of his social calls or emails, the other man somehow knew where he worked! Moreover, the attorney had been privy to his lousy piano playing skills since he'd admitted to having seen him play, and knew Phoenix was now a father – all without his knowledge.
No one knows your success or failure best than your enemy who pretends to be your greatest friend.
The spiky-haired man clenched his fists in his pockets and barely quelled the compelling urge to emit a Papa Bear roar that under no circumstances was Trucy Hecate Wright any of Kristoph's damned business! He picked up his grape juice bottle instead, concentrating on the feel of the cool sweetened liquid sliding down the back of his throat, imagining that it was cooling off his anger. Within his hoodie side pouch, his fingers curled around the cool stone of Maya's magatama.
Five sets of bolts and chains immediately appeared, obscuring Kristoph from his vision, just as he had suspected they would – though nothing could have prepared him for the startling color of the secret holders that'd manifested themselves within his mind's eye!
Hell's Teeth! Black, not red psyche locks?! What the devil is this about?!
"Trucy is just fine," Phoenix returned pointedly, hoping that the brevity of his answer would convey to Kristoph that any mention of his young child was off-limits. "As am I."
However, the periwinkle-suited blond seemed unaffected by any sort of warning.
"I am so glad to hear this," he responded, clasping his bony hands together in a pleased manner.
"I guess word gets around," Phoenix pointedly remarked, raising an eyebrow with a look on his face that clearly said: how the hell do you know about my daughter?!
Kristoph leered and raised his glass to his lips again. He seemed to be reveling in the hobo's obvious discomfort.
"A group of us at work went out to the Wonder Bar on Friday evening and saw the little darling doing a magic act. Quite a talented little tot. When I went to compliment her performance afterward, she mentioned that she was part of The Wright Talent Agency with her father and said I could have a business card if I so wished. I kind of put the pieces together from there. I do recall she was the daughter of your client that vanished, Zak Gramarye, was she not?"
You know very well that she was!
The details about his last courtroom case were public knowledge. Anything after that, however, regarding Trucy or Phoenix's whereabouts, or her subsequent adoption, was most certainly not.
"At least the poor little urchin found the proverbial silver lining in that dark cloud that senselessly hath befallen her." Kristoph shook his head under the guise of reproach and commiseration. "How fortunate that you were there to take her under your wing since her father was so selfishly left her in the lurch."
Phoenix wasn't buying any of this compassionate act. He just nodded curtly.
"I'm the lucky one. She's a great kid." He drained the last of his juice and feigned a convivial tone. "I was only taking a 15, so I've got to get back to tickling those ivories. It was so nice to see you again Mr. … er, Kristoph," he corrected hastily, seeing the other man's slight frown at the formal title. "I ah, hope to see you again."
"Don't worry, you will." Kristoph flashed him a half-smile. "You've got to take me up on my offer for a drink sometime, and I shall refuse to take no for an answer. I shall be here daily until you say yes."
It was like having a persistent suitor from hell, one who just would not accept no for an answer! It would have been almost comical if Phoenix wasn't positive that this wasn't a case of unrequited ardor on Kristoph's behalf. He had a niggling suspicion that if he kept rebuking the other party's persistent 'advances,' unlike in the past, the results this time around would be worse than a mere drink or slap to the face.
Much, much, worse.
"That won't be necessary, we'll set something up after the weekend," Phoenix promised, slowly beginning to back away from the bar, all the while beaming so broadly his cheeks were beginning to hurt. "Please excuse me, but I do need to get back to work. I'll be seeing you around, Kristoph."
"I'm going to hold you that, Herr Wright." A sly smirk flickered across the blond man's face. "Because you can run, but you can't hide! I've got my eye on you."
And it was with those final chilling words echoing in his mind that Phoenix somehow managed to get through his shift, his heart erratically thumping as he failed to shake the nagging feeling of watchful eyes searing into his back the rest of the night, even long after he saw Kristoph Gavin leave the bar.
Mood music from this chapter - full video and lyrics on thejordanphoenix dot com:
Michael Jackson - Somebody's Watching Me
The Police - Every Breath You Take
October 26, 2021: This story is now being uploaded to be more family-friendly as the previous version was removed for being too steamy and setting off the site smoke alarms, and for having song lyrics. No harm, no foul. Seriously, I'm not worried - who the heck only reads a story for song lyrics and like, TEN chapters of canoodling out of 195? That's grossly underestimating my amazing and loyal readers, wouldn't you agree?
In the meantime, as I go through the painstaking task of ensuring my new version complies with regulations per the admin's advising, the full uncut version of Turnabout Everlasting, and Filling The Void (the other far too sexy for this site previous casualty, which I've started reposting in a less risqué format) plus all 100+ chapters of Singing In The Courtroom can be found on THEJORDANPHOENIX dot com
All 195 chapters are now on my personal site and going forward, I will be posting there first when I write new chapters, so make sure to follow me for the latest updates and direct music video links! (I am still taking reader song requests, BTW) 😄