Shut Off (Just This Once #3) (3 page)

All in all, she definitely didn’t look like the pencil-skirt, sky-high-heel-wearing uppity bitch that needed a tour guide to the restroom a couple weeks ago. The girl in the picture was broken, with downturned lips and cheeks awash in freshly spilled tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her usually perfect black bob looked like it’d been used as a
Brillo
pad on an especially rough pan.

There was something about the pictures that enraptured me. It wasn’t that she looked so broken and disheveled. There was something else there. I twisted my head this way and that, shuffling between the images to see if it was more noticeable in one specific photo. I didn’t know how long I sat there with the sun beaming overhead and sweat beginning to collect on my upper lip and in the creases of my clothes, but the images were getting harder and harder to look at. A fly landed on my keyboard and when I moved to swipe it, the little arrow hovered over the left side of Lara’s face. That was all it took to make me see what I’d been missing the whole time.

The left side of her face.

Every hit.

Every scratch.

Every bruise.

It was easy to overlook when I didn’t know “EJ” well enough to say he was a lefty or a righty, but I knew him now, and he was without a doubt a righty. Yet whoever had hit her was definitely left-handed because it would be unlikely for a right-handed person to
only
swing with their non-dominant hand. But this was hardly enough to win a case, so I continued my hunt for evidence.
Anything to work in our favor.

I skimmed over the reported events again, as told by Lara. In the police report, she said she went back to pick up her things on the 15
^th
. If she didn’t know about his dad’s house, she would’ve had to pick up her belongings at his condo.
Wouldn’t they have cameras or a doorman there?
Basically, proof that she didn’t leave his condo with a battered face?

The files sitting on my computer only said so much, so I moved to Google, hoping I could find something new.
A search on her name gave her last known address—the same address she listed with the police, but it looked like someone else was living there at the same time. A roommate. Maybe they could testify as to her character.
The box Lara sent to my home and the defacement of my door proved what Joel and I already knew about her. I didn’t know what compelled me to hold onto such damning evidence more—my desire to hold onto my dream job or my respect for Joel’s wishes to stay out of the case.

Her Facebook page was littered with
selfies
and shit I expected to see from someone like her: quotes from women like Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor—women she “looked up to.” She was such a cliché. The only thing I found useful was her relationship status, which was currently listed as “taken”—something I hadn’t quite expected, considering she not only just got out of a relationship with Joel, but was working through a legal case with him. Maybe she’d been seeing someone at the same time as Joel.

I scrolled down, as far back as her first posting, to see what her life looked like before Joel. I clicked on a picture she was tagged in. She looked very girl-next-door. In fact, she could have been any of the girls I grew up with.
Nondescript and unmemorable.
Brassy brown hair hung limply around her shoulders with overgrown bangs that swept her eyelashes. Her makeup looked like she was trying too hard, with thick eyeliner that stretched clear up to her eyebrows, a high-sheen lip gloss that looked like she’d been chomping on chicken wings prior to taking the picture, and clothes that were typical college wear for a Vegas girl—a spaghetti-strapped shirt with a built-in bra, dark jean shorts, and flip-flops. There was nothing fashionable or high-class about that girl.

There wasn’t anything particularly telling about what she was up to or the people she hung around with,
who
she was supposedly dating, or anything aside from random babblings.

Opening up my notes, I began writing down my findings. Every word typed encouraged me that there was more to this story. After another hour of looking through compiled lists: items she supposedly obtained from Joel’s house, the police report that I had read so many times I had almost every line memorized, and the doctor’s report—I realized I wasn’t going to get any more from these files. I had an ace up my sleeve though.

“Are you calling to gloat, because I have to say I’ve been fucking overworked carrying your load, so I’m as grumpy as a prostitute with a broken vagina.”

“There’s a visual I wouldn’t mind scrubbing from my mind. Thanks for that.”

How Kerri could get away with talking like that at work, I still didn’t understand. When I first started working there, I’d heard rumors that she’d slept with Henderson, but somehow I couldn’t picture that. He seemed way too uptight for her.
Although it would explain how much she gets away with.

“Anytime, honey. So tell me, you’re just now calling because you’ve finally come up for air.”

“What have I told you about living vicariously through me? We’ve got to find someone for you. That’s not why I’m calling. I’m actually calling about the case.” I knew no one could hear me, but that didn’t stop me from whispering the words, as if someone near Kerri’s desk would overhear our conversation. Believe me, it wouldn’t be the first time Kerri was overheard discussing her admiration for someone else’s sex life or her lack of one. Except, I didn’t want anyone knowing about this meeting. I’m sure I would be breaking all kinds of ethics and morals, never mind office policy. I was sure just discussing the case could get me officially fired. But, if there was a chance I would lose my job anyway, I would’ve felt better knowing I did everything I could to help Joel win.

“Of course you are. Ooh, that makes me think of role-playing. Ever done it? Probably haven’t. You want to do lunch? I can swing by.”

“Yeah, he actually lives up at
The Ridges. Do
you want to meet me over at the country club? One o’clock?”

“Yep. Catch you later.”

“Oh, and bring your laptop.”

“Gotcha. See you in a bit, honey.”

***

I should have known when I invited Kerri to meet me for lunch that she would stand out in a place like a country club. For it being lunchtime in the middle of the week at an exclusive club, there were quite a few people sitting at the tables nearby. People who I was sure registered just how out of place Kerri was in a place like that.

The maître d’ showed her to the table I was already sitting at. The table was in the back of the room, overlooking the eighth hole and a small pond with a water fountain sprouting from the center of the water. Kerri spotted me, waving exuberantly. She smacked the man leading her to the table to let him know she could find her way. He looked down at his arm as if she’d burned a hole through his blazer before turning around to storm off in the opposite direction. She bounded down the aisle, wearing a lime green blouse and navy capris, carrying a leopard print laptop case. The only thing that seemed to fit in were her black Jimmy Choos and matching black sunglasses and those glossy black curls that always reminded me of a 40s pinup girl.

“I see you’ve been getting some sun,” she said as she lifted her sunglasses to get a better look. Her eyebrows lifted approvingly, and she pulled out the chair across from me and sat down.

“Actually, today was my first day getting outside.”

“Your skin looks warm, but then again you’ve got that ‘fucking’ glow.”

I looked around to make sure no one else overheard her. “Let’s try not to get kicked out of this place. I told Joel we were meeting for lunch here, and I’m pretty sure he had to call ahead to get us a pass to eat here. Also, I think it goes without saying that we should leave his name out of our conversation. He does live here, after all.”

“Yes, Mother. Any other rules you need to address before the waiter comes and I’m left to my own devices?”

“Behave.”

Her hands rose to bump the curled ends of her hair while she gave me a wink. I wasn’t sure if she meant to reassure me, but it had the opposite effect. I was almost more nervous. Kerri was a bull in a china shop, which was hard to achieve in a place like Vegas, where people lost their inhibitions like gamblers lost money.

After the waiter returned to take our order, I waited until he was out of earshot to get right down to business.

“He’s not telling me anything. So, I’m on my own. Anything you have for me would be helpful. I could use a handout at this point. I’m desperate.”

“Well, I came armed,” she said, patting her laptop bag, propped up by the leg of her chair. “I don’t know what you specifically need, but I’ll help you with whatever I can.”

She pulled her laptop out, setting it on the vacant space of the table. All of our screens were fitted with privacy filters, so I wasn’t worried about the people who sat facing her computer—they wouldn’t be able to see any more than a black screen.

“When all of this is over, I owe you a drink.”

“And I’ll be collecting,” she said just as the waiter came back with our plates—a dainty salad with an ahi tuna sandwich for me and a halibut filet in miso broth for Kerri. As I took the first bite of my sandwich, I reminded myself not to get too comfortable there—I wasn’t staying.
This is only temporary.

“
Did he tell you they set a date for the trial?”

“What? Already?” I questioned around a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, so whatever magic trick you’re trying to pull off, you better be quick.”

“When is it?” I asked, trying extra hard not to choke from shock and from the frisée that raked its way down my throat.

“The 21
^st
.”

“But that’s only nine days away. Who’s the judge?”

“Sorenson.”

“I don’t know him.”

“
She’s
kind of a hard-ass. I’d say you have your work cut out for you.”

Although I trusted Kerri, I didn’t want to give her too much information or point out that I’d poked holes in Lara’s story.

“Do we have a current address for Lara? The one I have is from the report, and from what it looks like, someone else was living there with her. You’ve seen her; she doesn’t look like someone who is rooming with some college kid. I can’t imagine she could find anyone who would want to share a space with her, let alone an apartment.”

With a few keystrokes, Kerri started reading off a street address that didn’t sound familiar. I typed the address in my phone and continued prying information from my friend.

“Did you know she had a boyfriend? I saw on Facebook she’s seeing someone.”

“Yeah, they’re getting his deposition
on Friday. Apparently he’s the reason that Lara broke up with Joel. He’s the one who took her to the hospital.”

“He said
he
broke up with
her
. Whatever. Where was he when all of this was going on?”

“Beats me. I’m sure Henderson will ask though. Your boyfriend’s lawyer got the case to be seen behind closed doors. I told you that, right?” she asked as she cut another piece of her fish off and brought the fork to her fire-red lips.

“Jury?”

“No.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“Well, whatever it is, he’ll have a verdict much quicker. Without press there, he won’t be hit as hard either.”

“I’ve got to figure this out for him.”

“You know he does have a lawyer, right?
One of the best in the city, actually.
It’s not like he’s working with some public defender.”

She was treating me like a client’s spouse, trying to assure me with a highlight reel of all the keywords that were meant to calm the harried party while the one facing the real problem actually dealt with the important things. It was the first time I was ever on the other side of the table, and I didn’t like it one bit. I wasn’t the one having to go to court, but I felt just as vulnerable. I wished I could say it was because of my job, but the more time I spent with Joel, the more I realized I had feelings for him. Feelings I’d been fighting for weeks as he lured me back.

“What do you know about the boyfriend?” I asked, curious to know if he was anyone I’d seen or heard about. Her Facebook page was bare in terms of information.

“I didn’t recognize his name—Paul
Twinings
? I did my own
Googling
and he looks like a fucking nobody. How that girl could go from this,” she said while looking around the room in wonder, “to nothing, I don’t understand.”

“Well she is banking on a hefty payday.”

“Yeah, from your horizontal tango partner, so you better think of something and fast. Regardless of whose side I’m supposed to be on, I always root for the good guys, and Joel is a good guy.”

“You think so?”

“After everything, you still don’t?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m just not sure what kind of future we have. It’s not like we’re off to a good start. Besides, he’s like you.
But with a penis.
Not exactly the type to settle down.”

“I knew I should have said something to him that night.” She turned her face away from me, but I could see her watching me from the corner of her eye. I couldn’t see my own expression to know what I looked like, but whatever she saw written on my face had her busting up laughing.

“Blaire. You know I’m playing. Two
Kerris
would never mix well. He’s too pretty anyway. But back to what you were saying. If he didn’t want you, I don’t think he would have tried so hard. You literally put the ‘hard’ in ‘playing hard to get.’ I applaud your resilience though. I don’t have to tell you how most women would have responded.”