Hi guys; so glad to back you'll never know. When I was eight, I read Roll of Thunder, Hear my cry by the brilliant Mildred D. Taylor who showed me how much power there is in a pen/typewriter/keyboard/pencil etc. In short, that book is a masterclass in what it means to be a writer and inspires me to the current day (I think I've read all her stuff by now). If you understand my inspirations, hopefully you'll enjoy it more.
Antonio locked his arms around his wife's stomach, remembering the two previous occasions when his fingers couldn't touch. She had remained radiant and talkative throughout the years, but after a daughter, twins sons and her third bout with morning sickness; she fought the urge to strangle him.
"Did you have to go all the way there?"
"We already went through this." He murmured with his lips pressed against her wavy black hair.
"Antonio, don't cut me off like I don't matter."
"You do matter."
"I wanted you here. I need you here."
He held her a little tighter. "I am here."
She exhaled at his lack of grovelling. "The first scan is tomorrow."
"I know. Did you talk to the director at the Gallery?"
"Yeah. He loved my ideas; I can't wait to get back out there. So how is she?"
He hesitated in giving an answer.
Big Stone Gap, Virginia.
Being escorted down the concrete corridors of Wallens Ridge State Prison made Nicole understand why jail is no place for a child to visit. She recognized the man in desperate need of a shave, though barely. The weight loss from the prison diet had made him a shadow of the man he used to be physically; his frame was now wiry and his face was slim. She could hardly believe that that mouth used to offer salacious suggestions with tequila on his breath, kiss her on her neck, and turn men into mice with one reproach. His lawyer, Desmond Walls, sat beside him.
"Alex, long time no see."
"I see you still have trouble separating reality and fantasy Landon."
"That depends on who you walked in as. Judging by the bravado I'd say Nicole Scott. Not that we're familiar."
"You were always much bigger in your mind. It didn't take much to cut you down to size."
"It didn't take much to progress from Tequila to other things."
Desmond interrupted their quick-witted reunion. "Now that we're acquainted, I trust you're aware of the finer details of my client's affidavit?"
"Of course." She replied, conscious that the cause of Landon's sleazy smile was his unbridled imagination. Even though she wore a fitted gray pinstripe suit, he had stripped her in seconds. "It won't suffice." Landon's face dropped much to her amusement. Instead of reaching across the table for her neck or at least to intimidate her as was customary, he whispered emphatically to his lawyer who had expected it.
"May I know why?" Desmond called her bluff to ascertain whether everything Landon had told him about her was true.
"That poppy field in Boyacá is of no use to us now, seeing as the Colombian government blew it up four weeks ago. Also, your client's alleged associate disclosed the location of the dock in Barranquilla recently. That export company is currently under investigation. So, if your client plans to see the sunrise outside of this parameter, before he needs a Zimmer frame, I'll need a lot more motivation."
Landon's flashback to Nicole's hard-edged negotiation gave him a pensive facial expression. She had come to recognize it in all men; it was the look they gave when presented with something unattainable.
"You've done your homework." He said without thinking or conferring.
"What Mr. Warfield means is…"
"Exactly what he said. Mr Walls, you've defended some notorious individuals. This case is no different." She stood up from the grey fold-out chair. "Until next time."
"We should meet again soon, to discuss matters." Desmond said, before she left.
"Only if they change." She called over her shoulder on the way out.
Pollock stared at her like he always did but couldn't find the energy to shake his head at her actions.
"You never stop, do you?"
"Look at where I am sir, is that worth asking?"
"District Attorney Tobin is in favour of his release."
"I know that but why not exploit the source while it's at our disposal?"
He smiled. "You paid attention. Nice Gold Rush analogy by the way. You know nothing comes without a sacrifice."
"True. I heard that Michael was going to VirginiaState."
"I wish. He chose UCLA instead." There was a pang of upset in his statement.
"Was it worth it sir? All these years seeing these four walls more than your kids, was it worth it?"
"If I knew the answer I'd tell you."
Although she took every short cut possible after heading back to the office, the road seemed never-ending. In that enclosed room she shaped her rapport with Landon by playing the offensive side and forcing him into defence. However that didn't make her any less worried about what her involvement could do to her family. It was around eleven by the time she threw her purse on the island counter and could honestly say the working day was over. Kicking off her shoes and pouring a glass of wine, an unexpected voice made her jump out of her skin.
"You work too much, you know."
"Mom! You can't sneak up on me like that."
Nina started to laugh but abruptly stopped when she saw the fear in Nicole's eyes. "Sorry baby."
"Where's Angela?"
"Recovering from sugar shock; sound asleep. Before you ask, yes I did read to her and your workaholic husband asked if you called the catering company about the cheesecakes for the conference."
"Okay, thanks."
"I would ask what's going on but that's not what I'm here for."
"Will I need a drink for this?" Nicole joked.
"Maybe two." Nina replied with severity.
Arriving late for lunch at the White Moose restaurant, her stilettos clicked against the wooden floors in the V.I.P. section. Harris brought company to their private meeting in the form of a ruthless Defence attorney Nicole had run in to frequently.
"Gail." Nicole's one-word greeting served as a synonym or euphemism for "bitch".
"Nicole." Gail replied in a similar fashion while sizing her up. They both power dressed like it was the 1980s, but instead of shoulder pads and hats, they used brand names as their weapons. Gail fought with Prada and Nicole wore Chanel as armour.
"Rumour has it I may be punching in surplus hours in the near future."
"I thought rumours were just supposition, not statements of fact." Nicole's parody amused Harris. "Your client knows it's not my style to play my hand at once."
"Some things never change. " He chimed in. "Like my offer and the advice I gave you years ago. Take it as a kind reminder; some of us work our way into the grave, though I do believe in resurrection. In fact, if I recall correctly you used to call me Marlon."
"That was before you hired a woman whose Aston Martin could pay off my mortgage."
"If, hypothetically, the occasion were to arise whereby the hunter became the hunted," Gail's flowery use of Legalese didn't throw Nicole off track. "My client endeavours to avoid any unfortunate misunderstandings."
"And how could I help with that Marlon?"
"By ascertaining your loyalties early on. I must say I admire your work." The old art dealer used his transatlantic charm.
"Marlon, ever the gentleman."
The Walls family were of Portuguese and English descent. A native of Deptford, South-East London, Marlon's grandfather Harold sold art on the black market from the early 1950s. The family tradition took a more criminal turn in the 1970s when Marlon's parents migrated to America. His father William departed from art to crack cocaine before upgrading to Opium with the cooperation of a Burmese government official. Needless to say, the export expanded to other countries and became a greater financial force; $373 million to be exact. Marlon's childhood was mostly spent in English Public boarding schools, rubbing noses with the children of the "haves" and "the powers that be". With international connections to fill a phone directory and the social networking prowess to sway a national vote the Walls were as of yet untouchable.
She stepped out of one world into another, from the upper-class underworld to the warmth of her $800,000 home.
"So this guy, who may or may not get out, may or may not want to hurt you, if and when he does?"
"Exactly." She sighed; relieved he could understand even though she had no right to tell her husband. "So brush up on your shooting skills."
"I know how to shoot a gun." He said with more than just the typical Leo arrogance. "Why didn't he call?"
"You don't know Landon; he gets off on making people sweat. I learnt a long time ago; a phone call can't make that much impact."
"I meant Antonio."
"He cares about me."
"He doesn't care about boundaries."
"He's my friend."
"A friend who didn't come to our wedding but showed up to bring you bad news, so he can play the hero in what's really your investigation."
"Are you fighting for me or against Antonio?"
"They're one and the same."
"I'm not a love object for you two to duel over."
"I'm not an idiot. He told you face to face because it causes the most disruption; look at us we wouldn't be having this conversation if he hadn't said anything. Nikki, we are capable of defending our family together, right?"
"Of course." The intensity died but as he hugged her she couldn't help but question what this all meant and which side of him she'd managed to see.
Nicole convinced herself not to be paranoid about her husband, especially after he made her and Angela breakfast in bed. If Nina was there she would have given Nicole another of her Electra complex speeches about how she was only attracted to Rashad because he was, in many respects, like her father. On the night before the wedding, she went as far to say she felt he was capable of hurting Nicole, even if he never did. As the butter melted on her tongue and the smell of the sweet waffles teased her nostrils, she put that thought out of her mind. He loved her, he loved their daughter and if anything was wrong, it was outside their home.