The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 (20 page)

He could see her irritation, but after such a sensible night, he refused to jump head first down the rabbit hole of chaos she was inviting him into.  “I don’t want to fight,” he said, demeanor soft.  Maybe it was him and how he had presented it.  Courtney was big on presentation. 

Reaching for her arm, he pulled her to him, despite her quiet anger.  “Come here.  Don’t be like that,” he cooed.  Pulling her into the curve of his body, he kissed the back of her head as he pushed his manhood up against her firm buttocks.  “We don’t have to talk about this tonight.  We’re both tired.  We’re both emotional.”

Courtney took a deep breath.  He was right.  Today had been a good day.  There was no reason to ruin it talking about hypotheticals.  Whether he knew it or not, he was not going to be allowed to stay in Recon with a bum leg, her father had already told her so. 

“I love you,” Brett said, softly into her ear. “That is what is important.” 

She reached for his arm and pulled it around her waist.  Nestling into his embrace, she quieted herself.  “I love you too, baby.” 

Chapter 17

“It is a pleasant world we live in, sir, a very pleasant world. There are bad people in it, Mr. Richard, but if there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.”                             

- Charles Dickens

Driving along the Crystal Coast of Carteret County would have been enough to take most people’s breath away.  The scenic route of Highway 24 was filled with palm trees, tropical summer beach houses on magnificent stilts, continual waterways, fishing boats, elegant roadside cafes and coastal charm, but in Brett and Courtney’s emotional state, the tranquil beauty of their heavenly surroundings was lost on them.

Trapped in a private hell of worry, even in paradise, the entire morning had been spent in utter silence.  They showered, got the kids dressed, fixed breakfast, read the paper - all in silence.  They dropped the kids off with Diane silently, only making conversation because they had to, but not really wanting to talk, because what they wanted to talk about had already been discussed a thousand times with their parents.

With the radio playing low and the windows half-cracked to circulate fresh air, Courtney gripped the leather stitched-steering wheel and stared blankly out onto the nearly empty road.  Her wedge sandaled-foot pushed down on the accelerator headed east as fast as her little car would take her – not once thinking about being pulled over by cops for violating the limit as she normally would.   

In a similar zombie-like state, Brett gazed out of the window of the passenger seat, shades covering his red, tired eyes from no sleep the night before, playing back moments in his previous marriage, trying to figure out how he had missed all the signs that Cameron wasn’t his. 
How had he missed it?  How had he allowed Amy to get over on him?
 

His brow furrowed in deep thought.  This was utter humiliation.  Never in his life had he felt more like a fool than now.  And Courtney…what she must think of him after this.  Here she was driving him around trying to fix more problems created by his previous fucked up choices in women.   It just wasn’t fair to her.

They were headed to meet their new lawyer for the first time.  Solomon Benson of Benson & Krieger Law, PLLC had been referred to them through Diane and Jeffery, who promised that while the lawyer would be
expensive,
he would be “worth every dime.” 

Only, Brett didn’t care how much it cost him.  He just wanted someone to tell him that they could protect what was rightfully theirs, which was sole custody of Cameron.
Sole custody
was key.  There was no way in hell he was going to share him with anyone other than Courtney.  No one else deserved him.  No one had put the time in, no one had sacrificed and it would be over his dead body that anyone else would lawfully be able to call Cameron their son. 

“We should have left 10 minutes earlier,” Courtney said, looking at the clock on the dashboard.  “If we hit any traffic when we get to Morehead, we’ll be late for our first appointment.”  She didn’t want to be tardy nor do anything that might allow Mr. Benson take their case a little less serious.  Plus, this was a friend of her parents, and it was always in the back of her mind
to not embarrass them. 
She chided herself quietly about that even entering her mind in the middle of this.
 

Brett turned from the window and glanced over at Courtney who was a picture of chaos now.  Her body language was all wrong.  She sat erect, back rigid and pulled away from the seat like at any moment she would catapult out of the windshield.  Her sundress was pushed up over her toned thighs in a pool of fabric draped in between her legs and her face was twisted in deep, agonizing thought. 
This was tearing her apart.
   

Slipping a gentle hand over on her bare leg and forgetting about his own concerns, he squeezed her.  “Breathe,” he said soothingly.  “Everything is going to be okay.” 
Possibly a lie, okay.
  But it was worth telling her that to keep her from worrying.   

Courtney didn’t realize that her feelings where showing again…right there on her sleeve like usual.  Taking a breath, she relaxed her shoulders.  “That obvious, huh?” she asked, sinking back in her seat.  There were times that she could be more like Brett. 

Glad that he could hide his angst better, he replied with a calm faux ease, simply for her benefit.  “Oh, yeah.  It’s more than obvious.  You need to relax, baby.” 

“I’m just…” Courtney huffed in frustration. “I’m praying this guy is who we need. The clock is counting down.  That court date is coming up.”

“If he’s not who we need, then we’ll keep looking until we find the right person,” Brett said simply. 

Courtney gave a nervous chuckle.  “Or we could just run.”  Her eyes cut his way. 

Brett laughed.

“I’m not kidding,” Courtney said abruptly.  “We have money.  Plus, I’m over North Carolina.  I want to spread my wings a little.  Before this, I was thinking California…maybe Stanford,
if I could get accepted
.  But now, I like the idea of Venezuela.”

“A non-extradition country,” Brett said, shaking his head.  “Baby, that’s crazy.”  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the craziest idea he had gotten so far.  Gavin still wanted to just kill the guy. 

“It’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for Bella,” Courtney said honestly. And in her mind, Cameron was just as much hers as her daughter was.  

Brett could tell that she had put a lot of thought into Venezuela, and he was honored to have such a committed wife, but there was no way that he could ever leave the country that he had already sacrificed so much for to become a fugitive.  If he did, everything would be in vain.  Plus, he loved the U.S. of A. far too much to be without her, no matter that she was the craziest bitch he had met.  “How about this,” Brett said, hand still on her thigh. He bit his lip and paused.  “How about we just win this thing?” 

Courtney smiled at him.  Of course he would say that.  Brett didn’t run from anything, even when it benefitted him to do so.   “That would work too.” 

***

They were right on time without a second to spare, Courtney and Brett exited a bank of gold elevators and entered the posh 12
th
floor executive suites of Benson & Krieger law firm at 12:59 p.m.  The elation while quiet and unspoken was immediate and just short of hearing angels singing in the heavens. 

Releasing a sigh of relief, Courtney rubbed Brett’s back and smiled at the sign on the door. They had finally arrived, despite all of her unnecessary worry. 

Guiding her husband up to the glass-pained doors one step at a time, she held them open for him as he maneuvered on his crutches.  

“Got it?” she asked as he passed through the doors. 

“I’m fine, baby.  Thanks,” he answered, ignoring the nagging pain in his leg and the emasculation of her opening the door for him. 

To their amazement, although the parking lot was nearly full, in the lobby there were no other clients waiting.  The airy modern space was lit up with track lighting and gleaming marble floors and looked more like a museum of art instead of a law firm.  Based upon all the glass, wood and leatherwork around the office, Brett could tell that this place was going to be steep, but there were also plenty of awards and placards on display, which meant that they won…a lot. 

Walking up to the oval glass reception desk to check in, they were greeted by a slender Asian woman in a simple but elegant peach suit with her hair pulled back in a conservative bun.  She was on the phone speaking very angrily to someone in Arabic.  It might have been strange in any other place, but so close to a military base, diverse cultures and bilingual people were a norm. 

One should never assume anything.

Obviously frustrated by the caller on the other end of the line, the receptionist’s first glance went to Brett in his drab black Nike jogging suit and battered face. Based on the high and tight haircut, she assumed that he was more than likely military.  But still, he didn’t look very important to her,
probably one of the firm’s indigent cases that they took on from time to time
. 

The second, even shorter glance was at Courtney, who looked more polished than her counterpart did. 
Probably a case worker.

Raising her finger to have them wait as she finished the call, she turned her attention back to the phone as if they weren’t there.  Snarling orders in Arabic, she restrained herself from hitting the desk to make her point. 

Courtney was so happy to be there on time that she didn’t even notice the woman, but Brett’s fine-tuned senses were honed in on her petulance. 

For the first couple of moments, Brett waited in understanding that she was preoccupied with the call, and then after the conversation continued into the realm of deliberately awkward disrespect, he glowered at her with enough heat to singe.

“Great,” he said aloud, turning away from the woman before he shot her to death with his mind bullets. 
Just what he needed- another rude ass person telling him what to do and at the same time expecting to get paid for it.
  He had already gone off on the cable television people that morning for charging him full price for service that seemed to only work half the time. 
Everybody wanted something for nothing.
 

“You got some gum?” he asked Courtney, leaning against the desk on purpose.  He put his crutch up against the side to add symbolic weight to the tense situation.

Clueless, Courtney fished out a stick of Spearmint gum from her Michael Kors purse and passed it to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing something had suddenly gone awry.
That seemed to happen to him more and more lately.
  “Do you want to sit and wait?” It was her way of suggesting that they move away from the receptionist before he said something offensive. 

Too late. 

Bret hated being ignored but more than that he hated bad customer service.  It was simply one of his pet peeves. “No, I don’t want to wait. I want her to get off the phone.  She could have at least said something to the effect of
I’ll be with you in a minute
.  Hell, I’d settle for
fuck off
,” Brett said, popping the gum in his mouth.  He was certain that the receptionist heard him, and that was his intention. Giving an exaggerated pause, he continued in the same tone, “
Instead
, she’s making us wait while she pretends to be on an
important
call.” 

Courtney looked back at the woman apologetically, embarrassed that her husband was quietly making a scene.  This was so unlike him – the old him.  She put her hand up near her temple.  “How do you know it isn’t an important call?” she whispered, trying to turn her body away from the woman a little more.

His voice was brittle now.  “Because she’s talking to some unlucky character about installing her new in-ground pool,” Brett said, raising his voice slightly. “Now she’s bitching about the price.  Trust me.  It’s not life or death.” 

Courtney’s expression grew cold.  “Not likely.”  She moved her hand from her face.
To hell with the woman being offended
.  “I forgot you speak Arabic.”

“I didn’t,” Brett said turning back around to face the woman, whose mouth had popped open. 
“Lugha wāhidah lā takfī.” 

Courtney gave a disapproving glare to the woman, who quickly got off the phone once she realized that she no longer had a language barrier to protect her conversation. 

“Sorry for that. May I help you?” she asked with a bright, customer service
screw you
smile to match her condescending tone. 

“Yes, you can,” Courtney said, returning the same smug smile. “Mr. & Mrs. Black.  We
had
an appointment for 1:00 p.m.”  She glanced at the clock on the wall.  It was currently 1:10 p.m.  Late, despite all of her damn effort. 

Clicking her mouse with her acrylic tipped finger to alert her monitor, which had gone to
sleep mode
because she had been on her private call so long - the receptionist scanned the schedules quickly to see which junior lawyer they were assigned.  Probably the new jerkoff junior partner who was intent on calling her darling.

Finally, she found their name, not at the bottom, where she assumed, but at the very top.  Her demeanor changed abruptly as if someone had just electrified her seat.  They were not
indigent
.  They were seeing the founding partner of the law firm.
Shit
. 

The receptionist grinned again, this time with a lot less sarcasm and a lot more shit eating.  “Yes, I’ll notify Mr. Benson that you arrived.”

“On time,” Brett added with a carefully neutral expression. 

“Of course.  If you could have a s…” The receptionist stopped mid-sentence while looking at Brett as she picked up her phone.  She had just overheard him say that he didn’t want to have a seat.  There was no need in offering.  Dialing Mr. Benson, she stood up from her seat.  “Hello, sir.  Your party has arrived.”  Pausing, she waited for a response.  “Yes, sir. I’ll bring them back right away.” She hung up the phone and stepped around the desk.