Sleeping Beauty (29 page)

“All my med bottles, all the sedatives–sodium oxybate, benzos sleep meds–they were all empty when the cops tossed my apartment. Brendan’s fingerprints were on everything. The DA is claiming that he drugged me in the sleep lab with the sodium oxybate I brought with me, and then afterwards at my apartment.”

Davin looks stunned, eyes wide, doubting. “That’s not true.”

I scowl at him. “Oh, okay.
Drugging
me is out of the question, but rape makes all the sense in the world? Now who’s lost their mind?”

“Have you told anyone?”

“Told anyone what?”

“That you’re pregnant?”

I frown. “I’m not telling anyone.”

“Uh…”

I roll my eyes. “For the record, I am
aware
that I will continue to gestate even if I don’t tell anyone, okay? I just want
something
in my life to stay private for awhile.”

“Did you even go to a doctor yet? Did you find out when you got pregnant? I mean, you’re going to have to make a decision about this, and sooner makes more sense than later.”

I stare at him, my face like stone. The mercury in my emotional thermometer is getting close to blowing now.

“You’re going to go through with it, aren’t you?” he says when I don’t answer. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The guy spends four weeks taking advantage of you, knocks you up, and you’re just going to carry on like nothing’s wrong? What do you think you’re going to do–have his baby and play house?” He turns around, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s it, I’m done.”

“Done with what?”

“I’m not helping you do this. I’m not going to help you defend your rapist, and I’m sure as hell not helping you raise–” He blinks, like he’s stumbling on a word. “His kid,” he finishes.

I jump up from the bed, pointing my finger at him. “If I wanted delusions, I’d ask for some of whatever it is you smoke between December and March. And I don’t remember asking you for your help anyway!” The words come out before I can stop them. My hand flies to my mouth, trapping any other terrible things that might try to come out. “Davin…” I take a step towards him.

He nods. “Right. Well, your bro’ will be here soon so…”

“Wait,” I say as he heads towards the door. “C’mon, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Boy’s your brother. Like I told you before, its time for him to shoulder a little.” He opens the door and stops, his back to me. “I’m sorry, okay? When that happened with you and me, it was weird. I don’t know what I was thinking, it all happened so fast. I didn’t know you knew about it.”

I walk over to him and touch him between the shoulder blades. “I’m sorry too.”

He turns around. “For what?”

I smile, just a little. “That I don’t remember it!” I punch him in the shoulder. “Girl’s gotta be more specific about what she prays for next time, I guess. Was I a good kisser?”

I’m not expecting him to break into a big belly laugh at my attempt to lighten the mood, but his expression becomes unexpectedly dark, almost haunted. “Sometimes I don’t know…”

I shake my head, puzzled. “You don’t know what?”

He reaches up and presses his hand against my cheek, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft area just under my ear. “It’s weird, you know? You get used to goofy for years, then find out that a natural foot is okay too.”

My smile vanishes. I blink twice, and squint, utterly bewildered by his reference to different surfing stances. “What in the holy hell are you talking about, dude?”

He drops his hand. “Make sure Rev’s with you when you talk to him, okay?”

He starts to turn away from me, and I catch his elbow. “Wait, where are you going?”

He shrugs. “A dance with the Ghost might get me straight.”

“If surfing the Ghost is all it’d take to make you straight, you’d better go somewhere else. Just think how disappointed West’ll be.”

He doesn’t laugh like I expect him to. Instead, he puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you.”

“Ghost Point? Right now?” I say, jabbing my index finger at the ground in time with the last two words. “Are you kidding me? You know the riptide’s dangerous this time of year. There won’t be anyone there.”

“That’s kind of the point of going. If I wanted to dodge a bunch of frogs on toast, I’d go local.”

I frown. “Don’t be stupid, Davin. If you get in a jam, there won’t be anyone to help you.”

He shoots me a wry smile. “If the Ghost is too gnarly…” He shrugs and says something that sounds like “I’ll just go get lost.”

“Davin…”

“What’s
your
backup plan?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the one going it alone in the rip, Claire-Bo. You going to fight it or just let it pull you out?” He shrugs. “Guess we’ll both find out, won’t we?”

I listen to him walk through the house, hear the muffled, faraway conversation between him and Evan, hear the sounds of a garage door lifting. With a weary sigh, I pick up the phone and dial Andy’s cell.

He answers before I even hear a ring tone. “
What can I do
?” he says, skipping all the preliminaries. “
Just tell me how I can help. I’m going crazy here
.”

I smile inside. Andy is only truly happy when he’s in full-throttle action. “I was wondering…” I hesitate, biting my lip. “Andy, have you seen Brendan?”

“
Claire, I don’t want you to think that I’m taking sides, it’s not like that at all.”

“I don’t think that. Why would I think that?”

“
You guys are like family to me. I don’t know what to think.”

“I know. I appreciate what you’ve done.”

He sighs heavily. “
I just couldn’t leave him in jail. I know you must think, you know… paying his bail and everything, but believe me–”

“I don’t care about that,” I say, trying to cut his rambling short. “I–I appreciate what you’re doing. I just want to know if you’ve talked to him.”

“
I wanted to explain…he was in such bad shape last night, I thought he might hurt himself. I made him stay in the Big House with us last night. Scared me so bad I got up in the middle of the night about ten times to check on him. His parents got here this morning from Arizona, thank god
.”

“Where is he now?”

“
That’s what I needed to talk to you about.
” He clears his throat. “
My, ah, attorneys say that I have to allow him to stay in the guest house unless I serve him with a formal eviction notice.
”

“Eviction notice? We never had a lease.”

“
You guys were paying me rent
.”

“You never even cashed the checks!”

“
Doesn’t matter. The State of California seems to think that you’re my tenants
.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, Claire. I can’t kick him out
.
I mean, if he wants to leave on his own, it’s fine, but I didn’t want you to think that I was giving him refuge or
–”

“I don’t want you to kick him out.”

“
You don’t
?”

“No.”

“
Oh, well
...” he says. I can sense him wanting to ask, desperate to ask, but he doesn’t. “
I guess we’ll leave it there then.
”

“Thank you, Andy. You and Alex and Ivanna and Jonathan and Charley and everyone–” I choke back tears.

“
We haven’t done anything that you wouldn’t do for us, Claire-Bo,
” he says.

This, his use of my nickname for the first time, prompts a miniature breakdown on my end of the line that I try my best to smother with the back of my hand.

He clears his throat. “
So Charley told you
?”

“Yeah, he told me. Well, he told Davin, and Davin told me.”

“
Sebastian Belgium always has been a publicity-shy little prick of a director
.”

“I don’t really care about him,” I say. “I don’t even know him. It’s everyone from
Evensong,
you know,
they must think–”

“
Hey–when you’re ready to tell us what we should think, that’s what we’ll think. Until then, we’re just waiting for marching orders, okay?
”

“I think my attorney is improvising.” I chuckle. “You know how I hate to go off-script.”

“
You want me to find you another lawyer
?”

Even though he can’t see me, I shake my head. “No, I actually think he might be some kind of crazy legal genius.” I pause. “You think you guys can just follow my lead when the time comes?”

“
Absolutely
.”

I hang up with Andy and turn out all the lights in the room. Then I settle myself on the chaise in the corner, looking out over the balcony at the ocean. For two hours I sit in a trance and write the script.

Chapter Twenty-Two

November 3
^rd

“Remember what I said, dally,” says Rev, straightening his tie and checking the buttons on his suit coat.

“I know, I know….stick to the script. I will.”

“No matter what you hear, you have the role of the apathetic deaf-mute, got it?”

I roll my eyes. “If my only job is to
not
talk, it’ll be the easiest job I’ve had in years.”

Lucinda Gaelic is already standing when Rev and I walk into her office. I take a discreet sniff once the door shuts behind us, preparing my nose to be trapped inside a vegetable steamer of overcooked asparagus for however long this is going to take. Instead, I’m surprised by the scent of a light, floral perfume.

Even looks like she’s sprung for some new clothes
, I think, looking over the black, tailored suit that actually fits her properly and makes her look a lot less heavy. The pants are the right length this time, covering most of her feet, the tips of some stylish pumps peeping out from the hem. The frosty, too-pink shade of her lipstick notwithstanding, it looks like Lucinda Gaelic has undergone a dramatic makeover in the last two days. Even her hair looks thicker.

I steel myself for the clammy handshake, but she doesn’t offer one.
Still has the creepiest smile though
, I think, as she gives us a wide-angle look at every tooth from her central incisors to her second molars.

“Thanks for coming. Sit down,” she says, waving us to a round table by the window. She grabs a yellow file folder from her desk and joins us, lowering herself into a chair next to me. “Now–”

“My client will be testifying for the defense,” says Rev, looking and sounding one hundred and eighty degrees from the surfer dude I ripped the sets with twenty-four hours ago. The fingers of each of his hands are curled around the opposite ends of an unsharpened wooden pencil the color of a school bus, providing me with the perfect focal point.

The table shakes as Lucinda grabs the edge of it with her beefy hands. “
What
?”

Rev goes absolutely still. I peek up to see him staring her down with the same look he gave me yesterday, only Lucinda Gaelic’s problem isn’t deciphering surfer slang, just trying to get her brain to square with plain English.

“Counselor, you must be joking,” she says. Still nothing from Rev but dead air. She turns to me. “Claire–”

“Ms. Beau,” I correct her, meeting her carefully mascaraed eyes. The stark contrast of her now-dark lashes and the watery blue of her irises makes her eyes seem to bulge slightly. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Gaelic.”

She mashes her lips together, spreading the whitish-pink lipstick past her lip line, glaring at Rev. “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Carlin.”

“If you’ve got such a rock-solid case,” says Rev, tapping one end of the pencil on his palm, “then you’ll make it with or without my client’s assistance.”

Lucinda turns her shark-like teeth on me. “Are you aware that it’s not uncommon for a sexual assault victim to emotionally bond with her abuser, Ms. Beau?” Lucinda reaches out and puts a damp hand on my arm. “That it’s a
survival
strategy?”

Rev’s already prepped me for this, so I know he’s purposely letting her spew, but her patronizing tone still makes me fume. I keep my arm where it is, trying to stay cool.

“I can’t believe this, Lucinda,” say Rev, throwing the pencil onto the table. “It’s like you’re handing me a reason to sue you, all wrapped up in a pretty bow.”

She shrugs. “You and Ben are the ones with the uphill battle for acquittal. It’s yours to lose.”

He raises up slightly from the chair, pretending to look around the room. “Did I miss the arraignment? When exactly was my client charged with a crime?”

“You team up with Ben on this one, and your client will go from victim to co-conspirator in the eyes of the jury. Like that,” she says with a snap of her fingers.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” says Rev. “I can’t speak for Ben McCarthy or Dr. Charmant, but I can tell you that we have a witness who was at my client’s apartment the day she came home from the sleep lab. He will testify that Dr. Charmant’s behavior in the sleep lab was not at any time treated as inappropriate.” He plucks the pencil from the table and lets it see-saw back and forth between his thumb and middle finger. “In fact, he will testify that once Dr. Charmant explained what had happened in the sleep lab, it was
my client
who apologized to Dr. Charmant for the behavior seen in the video.”

She leans back, her pudgy hands perched on the arms of the chair. “You want me to turn your client into a Stockholm Syndrome poster child on the stand, Rev? Keep pushing me.”

“Right,” he says with a sneer, “because shaming the alleged victim is a really good strategy. Female jurors are really going to eat that up.”

“From a female prosecutor they might. Is this the best you can do?”

He smiles. “Did you think you’d get away with the
ex parte
subpoena of my client’s medical records? You know I’ll squash it like a bug under a boot.”