Four Weeks Later
“Please reconsider, Sarah. We don’t want you to go.” Maria sniffled and wiped her nose across her long sleeve while helping pack up Sarah’s apartment.
Folding towels and linens—all of the light stuff—Sarah tried not to cry. “You know I can’t sponge off of you and Franco, honey. I just don’t know what I’ll be doing in the long term.” Aside from wallowing in self-pity and wondering where it all went wrong.
Sarah had said goodbye to everyone at the courthouse two weeks ago, yet she still felt as raw as ever. Right after being released from the hospital and sending her mother home to Florida, she was informed that she would be facing charges of obstructing justice—basically, her worse nightmare. On steroids. Wrapped in a delightful blanket of turds and sprinkled in broken glass. The only silver lining was that they would not be proceeding with any charges related to her forcing Colt Young to get freaky with her. Probably because that man had a solid reputation for freely giving out the goods, and it was very difficult to make a man have intercourse if he really wasn’t in the mood. A little thing called an erection was required for good old-fashioned sex. Plus, they’d probably spoken with Colt—or his new attorney—and discovered they’d both been ready, willing, and able. Still, the damage would be forever done. Colt, on the other hand, was hotter than ever. Women were wearing T-shirts that said “I’ll be your judge, you bad boy” and “Colt Young, I am your Capitan now!” They loved the idea of him being their plaything.
Evil trollops! He was a real person. With feelings. Not some sex object.
Okay. Yes, he was. That was how he happily sold so many albums.
Anyway, while Colt’s career had obtained rocket boosters and the media buzzed about rumors that he would soon announce his “Rebel Rebound” concert tour for next year, Sarah had been looking for a lawyer. She ended up turning to her college roomie, Melissa, for the arraignment hearing, and it was the most soul-crushing experience of her life. The case and initial evidence were strong—the video, testimony from Wright, and fact that Colt was in her apartment when he got shot. All proof they had a relationship during and after Sarah had him in her court.
Meaning, no more bench.
No more hopes of state supreme court (or any court for that matter).
No serving justice.
Instead, she enjoyed twenty-four-seven paparazzi, endless abuse in the tabloids, and an offer for tell-all book deals: I Made Colt Young My Sex Monkey.
Worst of all, she missed Colt and wished things had ended differently. She cared and had been trying to help him, but instead of seeing that, he’d treated her like dirt. He’d accused her of throwing his brother under the bus and gold digging.
Well, screw him. What happened to Mike and Colt no longer concerned her. Time to move on. In more ways than one.
Sarah pulled a tissue from the pocket of her overalls and blew her nose. She glanced at Maria’s sad face as she packed up dishes. This is awful. She would miss seeing her friend every day. She would miss the boys and Franco, too. They were like family. But without a job, Sarah could no longer afford this apartment. Especially if she were going to live through a long, dragged-out trial and possibly years of appeals. Maria would let her stay indefinitely, but Sarah could do the math. There was still a mortgage to pay and children to feed. Letting Sarah live there rent-free would stretch Maria and Franco’s budget thinner.
Sarah pasted on a consoling smile, not wanting to pull Maria down. “Don’t worry. I’ll still come over and babysit when I can.” If I’m not busy being Cellblock Sally’s new bitch. “And Taylor has plenty of room at her house. With the new baby coming, she’s going to need all the help she can get.” Taylor lived in the Berkeley Hills across the street from Taylor’s brother Jack, but Jack was always running to the hospital. As for Bennett, he would be traveling a little more than usual because of his charity foundation. He planned to be home Thursday through Sunday, but on the road the rest of the time. And, given that Taylor’s mother had died when she was a baby, Sarah and Holly were her only real female support.
“Come on, Sarah. Ben and Tony are going to be devastated. They love their crazy aunt Sarah, even though they say you don’t know how to have fun.”
“What? I know how to have fun. We read books and play chess. We do puzzles and watch Law and Order. Fun!”
Maria lifted a brow. “They’re ten and twelve. Not eighty and a hundred.”
Sarah thought it over for a minute. Maybe Maria had a point. Her life had been one hundred percent academics since bad boy number one almost ruined her future. After that, her career came first, and it hadn’t given her much time for letting loose. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a real, honest-to-God vacation—the kind that lasted more than two days where she unplugged completely.
The most fun I’ve had this past decade was in a bathroom. “I think I’m going to travel for a few days, until the baby comes.” And before her pretrial began in four weeks.
Yep. That was right. She was out on bail. Sarah Rae Alma. Inconceivable, yet true. When she’d finally called her mother to give her an update, it took a whole ten minutes to convince her it wasn’t a joke.
“I’m in real trouble, Mom. They have a very strong case. I do not.”
“Don’t be so negative,” her mother had said, attempting to be supportive. “You love the law and serving justice. Have faith that it will serve you.”
“Like it served Dad?” Sarah had asked, which made her poor mother cry.
“It will be different for you, honey. You’re smarter than he was. And you weren’t getting yourself mixed up with the wrong people.” Guilt by association had been her father’s downfall. Some other guy had been embezzling and made it look like it was Sarah’s father. She knew this because she’d seen all the evidence. She’d read every transcript. Sadly, he’d died before Sarah could help him.
Sarah had ended the call with her mother, feeling lower than a toad’s belly button. But at least she’d convinced her mom to stay put. The last thing Sarah needed was to make her mother watch a repeat of history.
God, I hope I win. She shoved the last of the cloth napkins into a box on the counter and taped it down the seam.
“Well, you know you always have a home here with us, Sarah. We love you and always will. Even if you forced poor Colt Young to be your hump-hostage.”
“Maria!”
Maria chuckled with a sniffle. “Sorry. I still get a laugh from all of the stuff in the tabloids. Did you know, for example, that you have mind-control powers? And you have the bodies of disobedient men hidden under your bench?”
“Gross. Are they really saying that?” What was wrong with these people?
“Can’t make this shit up.” Maria stacked her box on top of a wall of boxes. The movers would be there in the morning to take everything to storage. For a year. Or ten, depending on the sentence.
Sarah took a look around at the empty apartment. I’m going to miss living here.
“Thank you for letting me be a part of your family.” Sarah walked over and gave Maria a big hug. “I better get going.”
“So soon?”
“Bennett’s in New York and Taylor has her doctor’s appointment. I’m supposed to meet her there in twenty minutes.” Taylor planned to deliver at Jack’s hospital in San Francisco versus somewhere slightly closer to home—Jack insisted he’d make sure she received the best care.
Maria said, “Tell her to start getting pedicures with foot rubs when she’s ready. That will pop the baby right out.”
Sarah’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Taylor.
“Hello?”
“Sarah! I’m having contractions.”
“Ohmygod. But you’re not due for another week.”
“I know,” Taylor groaned.
“Okay. I’m coming to get you.”
“No. I’m in my car. Almost to the—gaaah!—hospital.”
“What! You pull over right now. I’ll come get you.”
“Nope. Almost there. One blllock. Meet meeee.” The call ended.
Sarah looked at Maria. “Christ. Taylor’s in labor. What do I do?”
“If I remember correctly, the pregnant person does all the work.”
“No. I meant Bennett’s out of town.”
“And?”
“I’m supposed to be her backup coach. And on the squeamish scale of one to ten, ten being the highest, I’m a twelve. Hundred.”
Maria gave Sarah a pat on the shoulder. “Just breathe deep and be thankful you’re not the one pushing a tank through a storm drain.”
Sarah winced. “Lovely. I’ll try to remember that.”