Date: Saturday, February 16th, 2013

Time: 6:10pm

Location: The Bar Association, Los Tokyo

Mia Fey. I always hoped I could take her out some time, to really get to know her, but I didn't think it would take serving on the most brutal case of my entire career for that to happen. Damn, that was rough. I got to hand it to the kid, she has guts. I sure as hell wouldn't have taken on this case if she hadn't volunteered.

She almost had it too. Dahlia Hawthorne's ticket was nearly punched for a one-way trip to the Los Tokyo Maximum Security Women's Prison. No one was expecting her rube of an ex to cover for her, even if it meant his own demise. Poor bastard. But you can't win them all, as they say.

Going into this case, I thought we had a snowball's chance in hell of landing a not guilty verdict. Mia was convinced from the start that our client was innocent, but I wasn't so sure. Well, she was right, and like many defense attorneys before her time, she is learning the sad truth that innocent and guilty don't seem to matter for much. The deck is always stacked towards the prosecution. This case though, this case was something else entirely.

I look over at Mia, seated across from me at a two-seater high-top table, perusing The Bar Association's drink menu. This bar is the local watering hole of downtown defenders, prosecutors, and cops but, by the way she is carefully inspecting that menu, I imagine she's never been before. I pretend to look through my menu too, despite knowing exactly what I was getting before I walked in, trying to steal glances at her when I can without her noticing.

Unsurprisingly, she still looks uneasy after the trial, and it reminds me of the day we first met, about four months ago. I remember it well, though who forgets meeting the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen in your entire life? Her long brown hair, big brown eyes, and that cute little beauty mark on her chin killed me.

Despite her breathtaking appearance, she was nervous and shy, not unlike today. So much so that she introduced herself to me twice in 30 seconds. Embarrassing she probably thought; cute is all I thought. I like to think that she really wanted me to know who she was; that it was important I remember. Wishful thinking, I'm sure.

After she and Grossberg moved onto the next meet and greet session, I went back to my office and looked her up online. Creepy? Maybe. I just needed to know who this angel was descending onto Grossberg Law Offices that fateful Monday morning.

Unfortunately, I found very little. To be expected. This was her first attorney job and it's not like she was some celebrity moonlighting as an attorney for a lark. All I could find was a graduation announcement for her law school. She graduated top of her class and gave the valedictory address. Beauty and brains? Some people really are God's favorites. I wanted to know more.

When I saw that Mia and Grossberg had gone downstairs, I casually walked over to Robert Hammond's office and asked if he wanted to go for a coffee break. Hammond was a veteran attorney at the firm and would have been there at Mia's interview. Most importantly, he was a bit of a gossip, so he was my best chance at gathering intel. Luckily, he agreed, and we made our way to the breakroom to brew a fresh pot.

Trying not to seem obvious, I started with some inane small talk. "Mondays, huh? After all these years, I still can't get used to them. Need at least two times as many cups of coffee to get through my day." My unusual condition made that statement not exactly true but, if any day warranted more coffee, it was Monday.

"Oh, I feel you, buddy. Just wait until you're my age. It only gets worse." His tone was dry. "The money and prestige sure make the medicine go down though," he joked.

I let out a polite chuckle and poured our coffees, black for us both, and handed him his cup. We clinked mugs in toast. "Amen, man. To paying the bills." We sipped our coffee before a beat of silence. I had been thinking about what I could ask next, when he broke the ice.

"Well, some new blood at the firm sure makes the job a little more interesting, doesn't it? What is this, our first new lawyer in almost a year?"

"Yeah, something like that." I pressed for more information, keeping my tone light. "She seems nice though. Mia, right?" Like I would forget.

"Yeah, Mia Fey. She seems like she'll be a great fit here. She's a little inexperienced to be sure, but she interviewed well and her showing in law school was excellent."

"What's her deal anyway? So, she's a recent grad from Ivy University?

"She is, she is. Top of her class, lots of extra curriculars, and glowing references from her professors." He sipped a little more, before dropping a bombshell. "She has somewhat of a pedigree too."

I had no idea what that could mean and probed for more info. "Really? Why's that?"

"Well, I knew her name sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I was doing some digging and then I remembered."

"What did you remember?"

"I defended a client against her mother, probably, I don't know, 10-15 years ago? I won that case, by the way," he added. He didn't need to say it. He wouldn't have brought it up if he had lost.

"Her mother was a prosecutor?" I asked, dumbfounded. It's an unwritten rule in our field that children of defense attorneys become defense attorneys and children of prosecutors become prosecutors. It's not a hard and fast rule, but exceptions were always notable.

"Oh no, no, no. She was working with the police. She's a medium; she can communicate with ghosts or spirits or something. I don't know. The whole thing always reeked of BS to me."

Maybe it was just my empathy and interest towards my new colleague talking, but the notion seemed intriguing to me rather than eyeroll-inducing. Mia did have this indescribable aura about her. Sincerity wasn't going to go far with Hammond though. "That seems pretty out there."

"Not only that, but she was wrong. She claimed to have contacted the murder victim and said that he implicated my client. I got him off though, and you know how much those judges love to side with the prosecutors."

"No kidding," I agreed. "The favoritism still drives me crazy. So, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well with Mia's mom. High profile trial and a false reading? That couldn't have been good for the ego."

"Oh, it was a huge scandal." Despite the somberness of the situation, Hammond recited the events with such glee. "The police looked foolish for using psychics on their case and her reputation was ruined. She was so ashamed that she went into hiding. No one has seen her since. Allegedly, she's still skulking around somewhere. The police might know where she is, so I've heard, but it could just be rumors. Pretty insane stuff."

"Crazy. So, Mia hasn't seen her mom since she was, what? 11 or 12?"

"Shit, yeah, probably not." There was another beat of silence as me and Hammond leaned on the counter behind us, silently sipping. "Anyway, all that said, Mia seems to have a good head on her shoulders. I don't think she's into that kind of crap."

I chuckled flatly, politely. "No, you're probably, right." Maybe Hammond was right, but that sure sounds like motivation to me. Mia's mom goes missing after a big murder trial and Mia becomes a lawyer 10-15 years later? No way those two events aren't connected. Not sure how Hammond couldn't see the obvious.

"Anyway, I best be getting back to my office. I have a big case tomorrow. Unlike some people, I actually have to prepare for my cases," Hammond said, jokingly jabbing me on the arm. "I can't just go up there and wing it like some people I know."

I hadn't realized that I had a reputation for slacking off. That's what having charisma will get you; everyone just assumes it all comes easy. Once again, I played along. Hammond was always trying to start pissing contests with me, but I had no interest in escalating it. Our win records were nearly on par, and he was competitive, but then again, so was I. As he walked away, I raised my mug up. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," I replied.

Hammond remained jovial despite not getting the annoyed reaction he wanted. "You got me there." Hammond had almost left the room but stopped short at the door frame and turned around to look at me again. "Hey, one more thing Diego."

"Yes?"

"I know how you young hotshot lawyers think. I was 20-something once too. I wouldn't go after her, if you know what I mean?"

"What?" I exclaimed. I was shocked. I thought I had played this little tete-a-tete rather cool. Was I that transparent?

"I'm just saying, the last thing we could use is a lawsuit or HR mess. Best to keep it clean, no?"

I was trying my best to contain my anger. Where does this guy get off? "Why are you telling me this?" I said, seething.

"After that whole thing with Andrea, probably best to keep it platonic. Last thing you need is another scandal." Hammond seemed delighted again. Well, he got the reaction he wanted, bastard.

I sighed, took another sip of my coffee, and mustered the most cordial response I could. "Best not to get involved." He looked at me again, gauging my reaction, then tapped on the doorframe twice to signal his exit before walking away. Nice talking to you too.

Andrea Scott was a former criminal defense client of mine. I helped her avoid a charge for grand larceny and she wanted to repay me in... other ways. I was reluctant to get involved with a former client. Technically, after the case ends, everything is considered kosher, but it's pretty frowned upon in the legal community. After a few weeks of phone calls, impromptu visits, and gifts, I finally relented, and we went on our first date.

We ended up dating for almost three months, but it was not a good relationship. I should have known that someone so pushy would be a train wreck to date. In hindsight, I don't know why I let it go on that long. Nothing better going on, maybe? Honestly, sometimes I think I just want to feel something, anything, even if that something is unmitigated anguish.

When things went further south and I broke it off, she tried to sue the firm later. Claiming I had acted unethically and taken advantage of her. It was a nightmare and it only got resolved because I had text messages proving my reluctance and her insistence. If not for those messages, it would have meant a big lawsuit for the firm and my head on the block. My win record made getting rid of me unwise, but some mistakes are unforgiveable.

After this ten-minute chat, I now know that people think I'm a slacker, a predator, and that my episode with Andrea has ruined my reputation. Well, Hammond thinks that, anyway. Mia Fey, you better be worth the humiliation.

I knew Hammond had a point. That situation was over a year ago and yet it still haunts me to this day. But, I figured, if something happened organically between me and Mia, we didn't try but it just happened, would that be so wrong? We're colleagues, and colleagues fall in love sometimes. It happens every day.

How I would be in these organic situations with her, I didn't know. I almost exclusively spent my time on level two, and she was almost always on level one. Other than meetings, we don't have many opportunities to talk.

Mia spent a lot of time in the doc room or in the commons since she wasn't trying cases yet, and that would be my only opportunity. I didn't have much need for the doc room anymore; once my focus primarily became criminal cases, there were legal secretaries who gathered my files for me. I didn't have the time anymore. However, it would be plausible that I was down there.

I started going down there semi-regularly, a couple times per week. I didn't want to seem too obvious. All my files were already pulled for me, so I would just stroll in there and haphazardly pick a handful of archived files I thought nobody would need. Then I'd walk over to Mia's desk to chat.

"Hey Mia. How are you settling in here?" I asked that first time. "Everyone treating you well, I hope?"

Mia looked up from her files and smiled. "It's been great. Everyone has been so nice and helpful."

"That's great. Anything I can help you with?"

"I'm okay Mr. Armando but thank you." She laughed gently. "I don't think you'd have a lot of fun poring over case files like you used to. It's a living."

"We're all lawyers here; you can call me Diego," I told her. As a senior associate, I am technically higher up on the Grossberg Law Offices hierarchy, but I'm not her boss. To be spoken to like one would definitely make anything between us a no-go zone. "Honestly, I'm a little nostalgic for my commons days sometimes. Going to trial can be taxing. It'd be nice to just drink my coffee and review some files for a change."

She laughed impishly. "Oh, I'm too sure. I also get nostalgic about my time in kindergarten," she said sarcastically. Shit. I talked so much smack when we first met that she saw right through me. Silence. "Well, I better keep working on these files," she continued. "There's only 24 hours in a day, and they want me to bill out at least 28 of them."

She was trying to wave me off, but I laughed at her joke anyway. "I knew there was a reason people don't trust lawyers! See you around."

"Bye Diego!" She had already returned to her files and didn't look up as she said this.

I had tried a few more times to talk to her, but each time was as unsuccessful as the last. Finally, I got the hint and stopped trying to talk to her. I would still go dutifully to the doc room a couple times a week and greet her before heading back up. If I couldn't talk to her, at least I could see her. And now, here she was, sitting across from me, ordering a "strawberry lawquiri" off the bar menu.

"What will it be for you, Diego?" Candace asked. She was a waitress at The Bar Association. She's a great girl: pretty, friendly, and one heck of a waitress. We went out a few times but didn't really click like we thought we would. Things were awkward for a few weeks after that, but then she fell head over heels for Paul, one of the bartenders here, and we've been friends ever since.

"The usual," I replied.

She laughed. "I don't know why I bother asking anymore. I'll be right back with your drinks."

Mia looked at me curiously. "Are you a regular here?"

"I'm probably here about once a week." That might have been an understatement. Two-three times is probably more accurate, but I don't want her to think I'm a lush. I don't want to lie to her either though. "Maybe a couple times a week."

"Gotcha." She seemed skeptical of my estimate.

Candace had already returned with our drinks; Mia's drink came in a hurricane glass garnished with a lime wedge, straw, and umbrella. Meanwhile, I had ordered an Irish coffee, with cream liqueur instead of whipped cream.

Mia snorted. Only she could make that cute.

Candace looked startled. "Everything alright with your order?"

Mia's face stiffened and she cleared her throat before taking on a polite and deferential tone. "Sorry, everything looks great. Thank you so much."

"Enjoy!" I gave her a nod in thanks and Candace walked away to go serve some other tables. Not even 7pm and the bar was packed already.

"So, you never take a break, huh?" Mia asked jokingly.

"Sorry?" I replied. I had no idea what she was referring to.

"You drink ten cups of coffee a day and then order an Irish coffee? How are you alive right now?"

I laughed. "Oh that. Would you believe me if I told you that my body can't metabolize caffeine?"

"What?" Mia exclaimed. She took a large sip of her daiquiri. "That's not a thing," she said skeptically. "Is that a thing?" Her tone became earnest when she realized I wasn't joking.

"Completely serious, 100%."

"So, does that mean it does nothing for you? You don't get any energy from it?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. It definitely does something for me. But I can drink it all day and still sleep like a baby at night. Some say it's a curse, not being able to have that pick-me-up when you need it, but I see it as a blessing. Any condition that allows me to drink coffee all day, without it being..." I prepared for the vitriolic word about to leave my mouth. "...Decaf, is a win in my book."

"That's so crazy. I've never heard of that before."

"You learn something new every day."

"I guess so." We each took another sip of our drinks.

"Are you a fan of coffee too?" I asked.

"I dabble. I'm not as devoted as you are, but I don't think that's possible."

"I've yet to meet anyone as enthusiastic as I am, but I am in a unique situation. I won't hold that against you."

Mia laughed before replying sarcastically. "Oh, thank God, I was really worried." She took another large sip of her drink. She wasn't kidding about needing to take the edge off, her drink was nearly gone already. I raised my eyebrow in surprise, a reflex, as I watched her sip more and more, until the straw was making sputtering noises. "So can your body metabolize alcohol or are you just here to watch me get drunk?"

"I assure you; alcohol is just as poisonous to me as it is to everyone else. I have a bit of a hollow leg though, so it'll probably take a lot for you to see me drunk."

"Well, let's test that theory." Mia raised her arm to flag over Candace. "Hi, Candace, is it? Yeah, can I get another one of these and another one of those," she said, pointing to my mug. "...For this coffee-loving freak over here? Thaaaaanks."

Candace gave me a concerned look. I mouthed to her to give us 15 minutes. She nodded knowingly and walked away. I wanted to give Mia a bit of time to pace herself. She was obviously a supreme lightweight.

"What was that?" Mia asked. She noticed the mouthed instructions.

"Oh nothing." I tried to think of a valid excuse fast. "Just asked her for chicken wings. You hungry?"

"I am soooo hungry."

"Perfect, you can have some of mine." Honestly, food is probably a good idea right now. Come to think of it, she didn't eat anything at the courthouse today. Not that I saw. No wonder it hit her like a brick. I got up so I could put in the order that I hadn't actually placed.

"Where are you going?" she asked. I was torn between my happiness at Mia being so concerned about my absence and my desire not to have her throw up on the sidewalk later.

"I just thought I'd get some nachos too. Do you like nachos?"

"I love nachos!"

"Fantastic. Nachos it is." I balanced myself on the back of the chair. "I know we said just one drink. You sure you want to hang around for a bit?" As much as I wanted her to stay, I didn't want her to think I was forcing her.

"Pssssh. Screw it! I mean, it's Saturday. We're young," she said, motioning her arms frantically between both of us. "I mean what am I going to do at home? Watch a movie in my pajamas and fall asleep?"

I laughed. "That doesn't sound like such a bad time. Well, as long as you're sure."

I walked to the bar and placed the order. I explained to Candace the situation about Mia not eating or drinking much. She laughed it off and told me it was okay. That she's seen far worse just today. I gave her a $20 tip and walked back to the table. Who says you can't be friends with your exes? I sat down and took another sip of my drink.

"So, what's your deal anyway?" Mia threw this out there like an accusation. One double and all inhibitions were gone.

I nearly did a spit take before swallowing. "Sorry?" I replied. I laughed breathlessly. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know. What made you want to do the lawyer thing, where did you grow up, that kind of thing?"

I inhaled. "That's a big question. How much time do you have?"

"Lay it on me."

"Where to even begin." I stroked my chin. "Well, I wasn't born here. In Japanifornia, I mean. Me and my mom are from the Dominican Republic originally." I paused. I didn't expect to be going over my whole life story today.

"That would be so beautiful." Mia looked at me intently, both of her elbows on the table, her hands resting on her cheeks. "I've always wanted to go somewhere tropical. Do you speak Spanish? You don't have an accent."

"I do. And it is beautiful. I miss it sometimes. But, yeah, I never picked up the accent. I grew up only speaking Spanish until I was about three and then me and my mom started traveling back and forth between Japanifornia and the Dominican Republic for a while. English has its way of taking over, but I'm still fluent."

"How long's a while?"

"About seven years."

"That's a long time." Mia looked around. "Speaking of long times, where's our drinks?"

I waved her concern off. "Oh, they're just so busy. Probably waiting to bring them with the food."

"Ahhhh. That makes sense. So, the Dominican Republic?"

"Right. We couldn't get citizenship right away. We would move for six months, we'd find sublets and my mom would take short-term jobs, and then we'd pack up and move back for six months and the cycle would repeat."

"That'd be soooo tough," Mia said sympathetically. She took another sip of her straw, trying to suck up the dregs of her cocktail. "With all that moving, how'd you go to school?" She may be buzzed, but she was still asking good questions.

"In the Dominican, I'd go to school like normal, but here I wasn't a citizen, so my mom homeschooled me. She'd stay home during the day and then usually work nights or evenings and I'd be at the babysitter's until she got off her shift. Night cleaning at hospitals or offices or working as a cashier. She wanted me to have a normal school and sleep schedule."

"Sounds like a good mom," she said wistfully. Her mom. This was probably a sore topic for her. "Why did it take so long? To move here."

"Were you born here? Like you grew up here?"

"I did."

"The immigration process is pretty long and taxing if you aren't a famous actor, doctor, rocket scientist, or something like that. My mom, I call her Mamá," I clarified. "God love her, she's a nurse now, but she worked at a resort in the Dominican. It's honest work, tough work, but it's just not high on the priority list for new immigrants. So, we were on that list for a long time. Tack on Mamá, who spoke limited English at the time, and the process can be even harder to navigate."

"Wow, that's so crazy, I had no idea." She looked at me empathetically. Just then, Candace came by with our order. "Ooooooh," Mia exclaimed excitedly, her commiseration replaced with joy.

"Here's your daiquiri, your coffee, and your food," Candace said as she set each item down on the table. Mia went right for the daiquiri and took a large sip, emptying 1/3 of the glass in one go. Candace was clearing the old glasses from the table as she asked: "did you need anything else?"

"Just -" I started to speak, but Mia cut me off.

"These are so delicious, just keep these coming!" She pointed at her now half empty glass.

"Just some water for the table would be great," I continued. "Thanks again."

Candace returned quickly with the water glasses and set one down by each of us along with a full pitcher of ice water. "Enjoy!" I nodded in thanks.

"Please, eat!" I exclaimed, motioning to the food. "I got this for both of us."

"You sure?" Mia looked at me for reassurance.

"Positive. I'm not going to just eat in front of you." I grabbed one of the side plates and napkins and placed them in front of her. "You even eat anything today?"

She sighed. "No, nothing. I'm so, so hungry. I was too nervous to eat anything before the case. Thought I might throw up if I did." I think she might throw up if she doesn't eat anything soon. She grabbed a large portion of nachos and a few chicken wings and placed them on her plate.

I laughed. "I'm sure you still feel like throwing after that case. That was..." I shook my head. "...Something else." I went to grab some food but remembered that bandage was still on my right hand. I picked up some chicken wings with my left instead.

Mia slammed both her hands on the table, shaking it. "Please tell me they aren't all like that? You know how people always tell you not to worry? That nothing will ever be as bad you think it will be." She turned her head down. "That was worse than anything I could have imagined."

"No that was...not typical. I've never had a case like that since I started practicing. Now, I can't guarantee that your cases won't be like that," I added, teasing her.

"Don't even joke about that," she said panickily.

"Poor kitten. I'm just kidding. They won't all be this bad." She scoffed. "What is it?" I asked.

She sighed. "Oh, nothing." She looked at her plate, pushing a chip through some salsa before popping it in her mouth.

"Just shoot. I can take it." I think I already knew what she was going to say anyway. I started calling her kitten today as a joke, but I probably went a little overboard with it, nearly using it as punctuation by the trial's end.

"It's just that nickname. Why do you call me that?" She looked at me severely. I couldn't tell if the food was sobering her up and she meant to look that serious or if she was still buzzed and didn't realize how intense she was being.

"Oh, it's just an expression. 'Like a kitten in a lion's den.' You took on such a challenging case today."

"Did you call Genji that when you were co-counsel on his first case?" Genji was another attorney at our firm; he started about a year before Mia did and I was co-counsel with him on his first case.

Shit. This would be hard to explain without addressing the elephant in the room. "Well, no. But his case wasn't nearly as challenging as yours." Technically, that was true, but there was no way she was going to buy that for even a second.

She laughed sardonically. Looks like I was right. "Ah, of course. That's why. What about Reina on her first case?" Reina was another attorney; she started at a similar time to Genji.

"No!" I burst out. I could see where she was going with this line of questioning. This wasn't some sordid pattern. "No, no, just you."

"Why is that?" she asked mischievously. She knew what she was doing.

I took a big swig of my coffee for courage. "Well..." I coughed nervously. "It's because you're so..." She looked at me expectantly. Is she really going to make me say it? "You're cute," I finally said, mumbling the last two words.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked, exaggeratedly cupping her hand to her ear. With that gesture alone, I knew that she had heard me.

I cleared my throat. "You're cute...like a kitten."

"I see." She smiled mysteriously. "Why did you take this case today? You offered to cover for Mr. Grossberg, right? You weren't assigned?"

I was left catching my breath. Somehow, we went from nervous and shy Mia to boisterous and giddy Mia to bold and interrogative Mia over the course of a couple drinks. What did they put in those things?

"No, I offered," I answered. There was no point in trying to evade her now. She wouldn't let me off that easy. "These past four months, I wanted to...get to know you better. There was never really a good opportunity. I thought I could help you on this case but also that we could have a chance to talk."

She didn't say anything else and the two of us sat in silence and ate our food. Each swallow felt painful, sticking like a lump in my throat. If she was trying to humiliate me, well she did one hell of a job. Still. She knew exactly where I stood and didn't storm out. Maybe that was a good sign?

"So, when you finally got your green card, did you use an immigration lawyer?" she asked plainly, with no hint of emotion about our recent discussion. It took me off guard. What was her game here?

"Yeah, we did. God." I shook my head. "I wish we had earlier. It made the whole process easier. But lawyers are expensive, and we couldn't afford one on Mamá's salary. We were lucky when a defense attorney offered to represent us pro bono. I owe that man so much."

"Anyone I would know, this lawyer?"

"Yeah, maybe." She did know him, I think. After my conversation with Hammond a few months ago, I looked up Misty Fey and that case that disgraced her reputation. The man she contacted, the victim, it was him. Gregory Edgeworth. When I grew up, I had always hoped to meet him again and thank him for what he did, but then I saw his name in the newspaper 11 years ago. He was murdered.

I never read the article; seeing his face next to the word "murder" in 80pt font was all I needed to know. If I had though, I would have heard of the spirit medium enlisted to help determine his killer.

I couldn't tell her I knew all of that. I've already taken enough heat for one day. "It was that kid at court today," I continued. His dad: Gregory Edgeworth."

"Bratworth?" she exclaimed. I laughed. That was a good one. I'll have to use that some time. "His father helped you? I find that hard to believe."

"It's true. That kid may be a prick, but his dad was legendary. He was one of the best attorneys in the city and just the nicest guy. He was very proper. Too much maybe. Bit of a stiff. But he'd give you the shirt off his back. He made me want to become a lawyer."

"That's...beautiful," she said, without a hint of irony. I still couldn't get a read on her, but at least she was staying. She laughed. "I still can't believe that a man like that could produce such a terror of a son."

"Well, I'll throw the kid a bone, it's not entirely his fault. You know that Manfred von Karma took him in after his father died? Gregory was a widower."

"What?" Mia exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, he had no chance, poor kid. That actually makes a lot of sense. They both have this kind of weird, like, Count Dracula look going on." She laughed at her own joke, and I grinned back at her.

Then, her expression changed suddenly, and she looked quite sorrowful. I was still trying to adjust to these constant changes in conversation and tone. The food seemed to be helping her intoxication level, but I still couldn't keep up. "Gregory Edgeworth. I know that name. I can't believe I didn't connect the dots today with his son. I mean how many Edgeworths can there possibly be? He was murdered."

"Sadly, yes."

"I thought so. My mom had worked with him."

"Your mom, is she a lawyer too?" I already knew the answer, but feigned ignorance.

"No." She paused. "Promise you won't make fun of me?"

"Scout's honor," I said, raising my bandaged hand up and placing my left hand on my heart.

"My family is a little..." she paused trying to generate the word. "...Unusual. We come from a long line of spirit mediums. The women in our family, most of us can contact the dead. I know it sounds crazy. I wouldn't believe it either if I couldn't do it myself."

"I believe you. I don't think you'd lie to me." She smiled shyly. "So, you have this power too?" I asked.

"It's..." she paused again, sighing. "...complicated."

"I'm all ears."

"I haven't channeled in years. There is a clear hierarchy in the family. Usually, the eldest daughter has the strongest channeling power and technique, and the main bloodline passes through her. The other daughters, sons don't have these powers, become members of the branch family. Essentially a bloodline with less clout."

She poured herself a glass of water and took a large drink before continuing. "Well, that was always the case until my mother's older sister, my aunt, was set to take over the bloodline. My mom's power was stronger than hers and the bloodline and technique went to our family instead."

"I don't understand."

"It's okay, kitten. It's complicated. I wouldn't expect you to understand," she said teasingly. I smirked. Is she mocking me, or does she think I'm cute too? "When the line changed, that meant I was set to take over and be the next head of the Kurain technique."

"I must admit, that seems pretty cool to me, being able to channel the dead." I gestured my glass at her, in question. "Why did you become a lawyer instead?"

"When Morgan, my aunt, lost to my mom. It destroyed our family. She and my mom were never the same. Aunt Morgan's husband was ashamed of her and left with my cousins when we were all really little. I haven't seen them since; I wouldn't even be able to pick them out in a crowd. I have a younger sister, Maya, and I didn't want that to happen to us. She's going to take over instead."

"That's really noble of you."

"Yes and no. I also became a lawyer to learn what happened to my mother. After Gregory Edgeworth's death, her reputation was destroyed, and she left. I hoped that if I became a lawyer, I could find her. I was told that becoming a prosecutor would give me the best chance of finding her, they have police connections, but I couldn't do it. I wanted to defend the people who really needed it. But..." She sighed. "...I have my work cut out for me if I want to find her."

"I'm sorry, Mia. Really. I love my mamá so much, I couldn't imagine..." I said, my voice trailing off. I didn't even want to think about that.

"Thanks. I miss her." Her face hardened. "But, I'm also mad at her. I don't care how embarrassed she was, she shouldn't have left. I was 12, Maya was only two. We needed her." She said that she was angry, but she didn't seem to have the courage to emote it fully.

"I've noticed that neither of us have mentioned fathers," I said. She shrugged and laughed sarcastically. That's a bad sign. "What did your dad do after your mom left?"

"That's a good question. One I'd have the answer to if he hadn't left right after Maya was born. It takes a strong man to marry into the Fey clan. The women hold all the power, and the men are just foot notes."

I inhaled quickly, viscerally. If we got married, I guess I'd be taking her last name. Getting a little ahead of myself, Diego.

"To be fair, I don't think it's right," she clarified. "I think a more egalitarian society would have been better for the Village. He shouldn't have left though. I don't know where he is either. I don't even know if either of them are still alive."

"I'm sorry. I have no patience for that crap either. I never met my dad. He was vacationing at the resort Mamá worked at, and they became involved. She doesn't say much about it, but it sounds like he was smitten with her. They kept in touch with letters and phone calls. He was Japanifornian but spoke Spanish too. A businessman or something. Needed it for his job, maybe? I don't know the details. Then, she found out she was pregnant, and he dropped off. She never heard from him again."

Mia looked disgusted. "That's awful."

"Tell me about it. She thinks that he had a secret family that he never told her about. I might have half-siblings, but I have no idea. I don't think I'll ever know. A big part of the reason we moved here is to find him. She always said it was to get him to cough up child support, but I think she just wanted the truth." We were both silent for a beat. "Well Mia, I guess we both have daddy issues."

Mia snorted and started laughing uncontrollably. "You did not just say that," she said finally, gasping for air. "I've never had someone refer to it like that to me before."

I grinned broadly. "I'm a real straight shooter; I just call it like it is. You never have to wonder what I'm thinking."

She smiled warmly. "I like that about you." There was no way to misinterpret that. Did she like me too?

Just then Candace came by again. "Sorry to interrupt, but did you guys need anything?" she asked as she stacked our plates. "We're doing last call now."

"Last call? What time is it? Is it really that late?" I asked.

She smiled. "It's 1:45, and the bar closes in 15. I meant to stop by, but you guys seemed good." She winked at me. Thanks for helping a guy out. I looked at Mia, who seemed quizzical. She must have noticed the wink.

"Did you want anything else?" I asked Mia. I laughed. "Another daiquiri?"

Mia waved her hands side to side. "No, I'm good, but thanks. I think I've finally sobered up."

"I'll be at the bar in a sec to pay," I said. Candace nodded politely and walked away with our dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Mia replied, fiddling through her briefcase, looking for her wallet. "Why don't we split? My drinks were more expensive."

"I insist. Think of it as a first case treat. You only ever get one of those, right? Drinks were my idea anyway."

After much back and forth, she relented, and I went up to the bar to pay while she went to the washroom. We spent the whole day together and I still can't get a read on her. She blows so hot and cold. She was very insistent on paying, almost panicked about it. If this was a date for her, I don't think she'd push back that hard.

I went back to our table and put my jacket on and handed her hers when she returned. She smiled flatly and put it on.

We walked outside and were immediately struck by the cold February air. "Did you want me to walk you home? I live nearby and would grab my car, but a defense attorney with a DUI is not a great look," I said, chuckling. I'm probably well below the legal limit with two doubles in seven hours, but I never could take that risk.

"I'm okay, but thanks for the offer. Have a good night," Mia said shortly, before turning around abruptly and walking left.

"Hey, wait a sec," I called out to her. She stopped and looked back at me. "Are you sure you should be walking home alone right now? It's getting late. Where do you live anyway?"

"Close," she said curtly.

"How close?" I asked. She didn't answer. I sighed. "Mia, how close is close?"

"A half hour."

"A half hour! Are you crazy? Please, let me walk you home. Can I call you a cab at least?"

"Really, Diego, I'm fine. I walk that far all the time."

"At 8am or at 2am?" She didn't answer because she knew I was right. "Don't you live downtown? How are you so far away?" I thought for a moment. "Do you live on the south side?" No answer again, but that was answer enough. "Mia you can't walk through skid row at 2 o'clock in the morning. That's insane."

"Don't worry about it," she responded curtly again and started walking. I rushed after her and grabbed her arm. She shook it furiously out of my grasp. "I'm fine!" Her curtness had turned to anger.

I put my arm down. "I'm sorry," I said softly. I didn't want to leave things there, but I knew she didn't want to be pushed further. "You have a good night."

"You too," she said, as she resumed walking, not looking back.

I started walking in the opposite direction. What happened? She was all but saying that she liked me 20 minutes ago and suddenly she couldn't even look at me. I wish I had her number and then I could call or text her later and make sure she made it home okay. I could probably find it in the firm's directory, but I knew that gesture wouldn't be well-received.

I kept walking towards my place, a mere five minutes away, and as I did, I passed by a man, medium height, probably about 40, heading in the opposite direction. I nodded politely as we passed. "What are you looking at?" he yelled at me.

Fuck you too, man. Wait. He was heading in Mia's direction. I looked behind me, Mia's silhouette was small in the distance. Surely this man hadn't seen her, but he was walking quickly in her direction. Paranoid. I'm just being paranoid. I kept walking ahead and then stopped. What if he caught up to her? A pretty thing like her, if he yelled at me, what would he do to her?

I thought for a second, exhaled in resignation, and then started walking in her direction, tailing that guy about 30 feet behind. We were closing the gap between us and Mia. Suddenly, he turned left, heading in a completely different direction than her. I let out a sigh of relief. I was just paranoid after all.

I started walking back to my place when I heard a man's voice in the distance. A different man than before. I stopped and listened carefully to his voice echoing out.

"Hey there!" he yelled out. I looked towards him. He had crossed from the other side of the street to go talk to her.

"Hi-" It was Mia.

"Do you know how to get to Third Street?" he asked. What a stupid question. Just count the street numbers; you'll find it. He obviously knew that. He just wanted an excuse to talk to a pretty girl all by herself at night.

Mia was polite, too polite, and was giving directions when he cut her off. "Are you already going that way? Can I just follow you there instead?" he asked.

Even from this far away, she sounded nervous. "Oh, I'm not going that way."

"Sure, you are. It's straight ahead, right?" I started walking faster in her direction.

She sounded panicked. "Please leave me alone. I'm not going that way."

"Alright, you caught me. I'm not really going that way either. I'm going whichever way you're going." He put his arms around her in a tight hug, and she struggled to wriggle her way out. She tried grabbing something in her briefcase, but he tightened his grip on her wrists, and she dropped it on the ground.

I started running. "Hey, let her go!" I yelled out, once I was close. He got startled and released his grip.

She pulled away. "Diego?" she exclaimed. She was surprised to see me.

"Who are you, her boyfriend?"

"No but -" I replied before he cut me off.

"Then mind your own business," he said coarsely.

Mia was startled. I wish she would just run away, but she was frozen in place instead. He started heading in her direction again, so I pushed him. Hard. He fell to the ground.

"Diego!" she screamed out. It wasn't in shock or fear. She was admonishing me for pushing him.

He got up and went to push me back, but I dodged it. He pulled his arm back, preparing to clock me in the face. I had readied my hands to block it when Mia grabbed her fallen briefcase and pulled out what she was looking for earlier: pepper spray. She sprayed it at him, and he let out a cry in pain.

"You bitch." He started slowly waddling off to the other side of the road, rubbing his eyes. She got him all right, but some of it got me too and my eyes were burning.

"Ugh," I groaned. I wish I had water right now.

"Were you following me?" she asked, aggravated.

"Not exactly. There was this guy..." I explained, my words trailing as I spoke. It was hard to think with my eyes on fire. "...He looked up to no good...he was heading in your direction. I couldn't risk it."

"This was another guy? A different guy from that one?"

"Yes."

"Sure," she said disbelievingly. Her arms were crossed, and she was shaking her head, fuming.

"I'm sorry," I said, still rubbing my eyes. Why am I apologizing? She was in dire straits before I got there. "I'll leave you alone. Have a good night." I started walking home again when she stopped me.

"Wait!" she cried out. I turned around to face her. "I'm almost home and, well..." She paused. "...Your eyes are filled with pepper spray and your bandages are coming undone." I looked at my hand; I hadn't even noticed that. "You can come to my place and rinse your eyes." She paused again. "Before you head back home," she clarified.

Did she really think I was going to try something right now? Surprisingly, a battered hand, burning eyes, and a broken heart didn't leave me feeling all that amorous. I sighed. I was starting to fume myself, but I couldn't walk home like this. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

We walked silently for the remainder of the five minutes to her apartment. It was a decrepit three-story walk-up. Does she seriously live here? She unlocked the front door and pointed to the stairs. "I'm on the third floor." We walked up to her apartment, and she unlocked the door.

I walked through the doorway and immediately hit my head. My vision wasn't the best right now. "Ow!"

"Sorry," she said, her voice sounding less icy on reflex. "It's a really old building."

"Of course," I said sarcastically. Why don't I get kicked in the balls next? That might as well happen right now.

Her apartment was surprisingly messy. There were clothes, dishes, garbage, clutter, stuff, everywhere. Was she like this at work too or was she just a closeted mess?

"The bathroom is that way." She pointed to her left and then walked right towards her kitchenette.

I splashed my eyes with cold water for about ten minutes and then grabbed a towel and wiped them dry. I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom and cleaned and rebandaged the wound on my hand. Once I was done, I called out to her. "I'm calling a cab; what's your address?"

"731 Poplar Avenue," she yelled out.

"Thanks!" I finished my call and then exited the bathroom. When I walked out, her back was to me. "I'm going outside to wait for my cab."

"Okay," she said distantly, keeping her back turned.

I laughed sarcastically. "Right. Okay then. See you Monday," I said brusquely. She didn't answer. I walked out the door, ducking my head, and slammed it shut.