Ford
This is one of my absolute favorite places to be. Dark paneled walls and the raised judge’s bench set the tone for the authority in the courtroom, along with swivel chairs in the jury box and the heavy wooden tables where counsel will sit—the plaintiff’s table closest to the jury and the defense table on the other side. It’s a typical courtroom. Yet, I never fail to get a thrill stepping into one.
I walk up the main aisle and unbutton my suit jacket. Drake Powell stands in front of the first row behind the defense table along with several of his cronies I recognize. A few other major real estate developers and some of the larger contractors they deal with. They all came here today because this case could potentially affect them all. If the judge rules against Drake Powell, a landslide of cases from the activist groups in this area could increase and target other building projects. A lot of money is on the line.
I will admit, the fact a lot of money could potentially be lost is the one thing that’s driving me to stick with this case.
I talked to Midge yesterday after I had finished preparing my brief to hand in to the judge. While my ethical duty is to Drake Powell to ensure he gets the best representation, I have a personal loyalty to Midge. And the fact she’s an investor in this project is why I really need to be on my A-game.
Of course, Midge was Midge. Didn’t matter she probably had millions riding on this real estate deal; she told me I was not to consider that in any of the legal decisions or strategies I would be making in this case. She demanded I take her completely out of the equation.
Yeah… That’s not going to happen. Midge likes to think she can control everything that happens within the firm and among her people, and she likes to think she can take care of herself. I’m not going to overtly disabuse her of that notion, but I’m also going to do whatever I can to protect the financial investment Midge made without deviating in my duties to Drake. Luckily, their interests are the same.
Regretfully, that means I cannot pull any punches when it comes to Viveka. I’ll have to fight hard and possibly dirty within the bounds of the law. I’m hoping this won’t be a problem, but we both agreed this case stays out of our life and out of our bed. It’s going to be a precarious line to walk, but I’m more than willing to walk it. I’m not ready to give Viveka up.
The bigger problem I’ve had to deal with has been my own client. Drake’s been an overbearing asshole the last few days, breathing down my neck about this case.
But I don’t need to like my clients. I only need to be legally competent to represent them and make sure their checks won’t bounce. I try to ignore the fact that while I’ve never had any qualms with taking cases I don’t necessarily agree with, going up against Viveka is slightly unsettling to me. It’s not what I want to be doing with her. I don’t want to fight and argue case law. I want to watch corny movies and spend a great deal of time between her pretty legs.
And I don’t foresee me getting tired of being between them anytime soon. I spent essentially the entire weekend at her house. When Sunday evening rolled around and I needed to leave, I found it incredibly difficult to do so.
And it’s not that we spent the entire weekend fucking. There was plenty of that, but there was other stuff, too. We went to the gym and worked out Sunday morning after breakfast. I then did something utterly preposterous—I went over to Reeve and Leary’s house and borrowed their dog to take it for a walk in the park with Viv and her two dogs. Leary wasn’t at home when I showed up, but I could tell by Reeve’s expression as I was leaving that he was going to relish telling her all about how I came to borrow their dog to impress a woman.
What the fuck ever.
When I showed back up at Viveka’s house with dog in tow, the smile she gave me was worth any amount of shit I was going to get from Reeve and Leary about this.
I didn’t see Viv yesterday, though.
It was Monday and the start of the new workweek. More importantly, it was one day before the hearing was scheduled where we would battle against each other. We both had to prepare, and we couldn’t afford to be distracted by the other. When I left her Sunday night, there was a shit ton of making out on her front porch before I left. It was torture pulling away from her and the only saving grace was that I knew I could have her again Tuesday night.
Assuming nothing terrible happens today in court that would change anything between us.
“Hey, Ford,” Drake calls. I set my briefcase on the table as he motions me over to him.
When I reach him, I take a moment to shake everyone’s hands. It’s a good old boys network of builders and contractors. They stick together.
“Got a joke for you,” he says with lewd grin.
“Oh, yeah,” I ask, pasting an affable smile on my face. I’m suspicious he’s in such a good mood. If I didn’t know our presiding judge so well—Lana Boyer—and how above reproach she is, I would have thought he’d paid her off.
“Two trees are next to each other in the forest,” he says with a snicker, and the other guys standing around all snicker. He’s clearly told the joke to them already. “A birch and a beech. A sapling sprouts up between them, but they don’t know whose it is.”
I smile, and it occurs to me that Drake Powell is not only a blowhard, but he’s a creep as well.
He continues. “A woodpecker shows up and lands on the sapling. The trees asks, ‘We can’t tell whose sapling that is. Is it a son of a birch or son of a beech?’.”
I’m still smiling, waiting for the punchline.
“The woodpecker says, ‘It’s neither, but it is the best piece of ash I’ve ever put my pecker in.’”
Drake cracks up laughing, as do the other men. I force a chuckle and turn toward the table, intent on pulling out my supporting documents to appear busy so Drake will leave me alone.
“Say, Ford…” I turn back to Drake. He doesn’t make any effort to lower his voice when he asks, “What’s the worst that would happen if I just moved forward with clearing the property? Just cut the damn trees down.”
“It’s a year in prison for each animal and fifty grand in fines,” I say dryly. Drake probably would risk the prison time, but he loves money too much to do it.
“Well, fuck,” he grumbles. I turn quickly back to the table to hide my smile.
“Would you look at that fine piece that just walked in?” one of the guys says with clear appreciation in his voice. My hackles rise before I even turn to the courtroom door, knowing it’s Viveka who elicited such a comment.
While I would like nothing more than to see her, turning that way puts me in direct collusion with this group of assholes ogling her so I open my briefcase and try to ignore them.
“I’d like to put my pecker in that,” Drake mutters, and the other guys start snickering. I ball my fists up, crumpling the fucking brief I’d intended to hand to Judge Boyer.
“Shit,” I hiss, trying to smooth it back out.
“You had that chained to a tree, Drake, and you didn’t take a crack—”
I spin around on the group and growl low. “I suggest you all shut the fuck up. This is a courtroom and a place of respect.”
Christ, I sound lame as hell saying that, when what I really want to do is kick the living crap out of each one of them talking this misogynistic bullshit about my woman.
And yet, my hands are tied. I can’t do much more than hit them with some harsh words to protect her. Not only would I be arrested for sullying the sanctity of this courtroom, but I’d give away my relationship with Viveka. My hands are thoroughly tied, and I hate it.
Hopefully, this will be the one and only time in my life I feel inadequate when it comes to Viveka.
The men thankfully heed my advice, and a few of them even appear chagrined. Not Drake, though… he stares lewdly at Viveka as she walks down the aisle.
No… she struts.
Fuck, she works the aisle like she’s still on the catwalk. I find it sexy and adorable all at the same time. I bet she had that walk so perfected it’s like second nature now when she gets on a strip of carpet resembling a runway. She left her modeling days behind a long time ago, but some things stayed with her.
Grinning, I once again turn back to the table and take the remainder of my documents as well as a legal pad out of my briefcase. From the corner of my eye, I see Viveka has reached her own table, so I step over to her for a short word.
Lowering my voice and with my back toward my client, I ask, “You ready for this?”
She gives me a polite nod of her head and the slightest of smiles. It’s all for show because her words are sexy and teasing. “Bring it, big guy. Loser has to serve the other in bed tonight.”
Jesus fucking Christ. While the thought of Viveka on her knees before me is about the best thing ever, I wouldn’t mind losing and doing her bidding. I’d love to see what else she wants to demand of me.
What else I can give her that will rock her world.
“Good luck, V,” I murmur.
“Back at ya,” she says in the barest of a whisper.
I start to turn away, but she stops me with more soft words. “Regardless of winning and losing, do you want to go out to dinner tonight?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I ask.
“Yup.”
“Then I’m in.”
I get another polite nod of her head. The way it looks to anyone in this courtroom, we just had some cordial and professional words of greeting to each other. I contain my smile on the inside as I move back toward my table, and Drake joins me there.
♦
“Your Honor,” I say as I stand up from my chair, tapping my finger on my copy of the brief I’d handed to her. I try not to call it “the Pecker Briefs” in my head because I’m afraid I’ll blurt it out to the judge. But Viveka told me Sunday afternoon as we walked the dogs through Pullen Park that’s what she named them. I thought it was hilarious, brilliant, and sexy when she said the word pecker.
The judge studies me expectantly, and I realize I’ve just lapsed off into thinking about Viveka. I give a slight shake of my head and continue, “We have not seen proof there are any endangered species on Mr. Powell’s land. He has several subcontractors lined up to clear the land, and the losses are mounting. We’re talking about excavators, backhoes, bulldozers, and dump trucks. Thirty plus tree cutters ready to do their job, and they aren’t going to get paid until they can do so. Furthermore, every day this job is held up, these subcontractors are going to be forced to take on other work.”
I continue, “Mr. Powell has meticulously planned out the scheduling of this project. If he loses these guys, the losses are going to be catastrophic when he can’t replace them in a timely manner. We’re talking about a multimillion-dollar development, and if the clearing gets delayed, then all the other construction gets delayed. The effect is not only on Mr. Powell and the money he has invested, but it’s also for every person who has been contracted to work that land over the next several months. As such, I would respectfully ask the court to lift the injunction until solid proof can be given that there are indeed any of the red-cockaded woodpeckers in actual danger.”
Judge Boyer peers at me from the bench, her dark eyes intense with interest and concern for the case before her. She nods and turns to Viveka. “Miss Jones.”
As I sit down in my chair, Viveka stands with poise and confidence. She’s wearing a simple gray suit—jacket and skirt with a pale pink blouse underneath. Her heels are low, yet she’s taller than the men sitting behind me. Who would ever think they could have a chance with someone as smart and beautiful as she is?
“May I approach, Your Honor?” Viveka asks. She picks up a stack of documents from the table.
“You may,” Judge Boyer answers.
Viveka steps over to my table and hands me her pecker brief. I don’t make eye contact, but start to read it as she steps up to the bench to hand the judge the original. She walks back with the last copy where she lays it back down on the table.
She remains standing as she addresses the court, “Your Honor, I’d like to point you back to my original motion asking for an emergency injunction and the affidavit that was attached by Dr. Alton Granger, a practicing veterinarian here in Wake County and head of the nonprofit group, Justice for All Animals. He identified a nest and visually identified it was occupied by a family. Red-cockaded woodpeckers are non-migratory and cooperative breeding creatures. That means after the female lays eggs in the male’s roost, other group members who live there will help to incubate the eggs. While Dr. Granger could not visually confirm eggs, he could see multiple birds in the roost, which suggests there are eggs in there. We are at the beginning of the breeding season, so all of this means it’s likely there are going to be hatchlings soon. As such, you have more than sufficient evidence to uphold the continued injunction.”
“And what do you propose, Miss Jones?” Judge Boyer clips out. “That Mr. Powell just walk away from the land he paid for and the money invested already?”
“Not at all,” Viveka replies smoothly. “But I do think further study is warranted to come up with a solution. Perhaps a land swap with the federal government to compensate Mr. Powell—”
“There is no law in place,” I say, standing from the table to interrupt Viveka, “that will compensate Mr. Powell if that land is sequestered from his use.”
Viveka rolls right over me, her gaze never leaving Judge Boyers. “Despite Mr. Daniels pessimistic view of our federal government, the truth of the matter is there’s a confirmed sighting of an endangered species, and they are to be protected by the law.”
“Fine,” I say, turning my eyes to Judge Boyer. “Then Mr. Powell can work around the tree. He can leave it in place and start construction—”
“Have you even done any research on the red-cockaded woodpecker?” Viveka asks smoothly as she turns to me for a moment. Her eyes pin me in place, and it’s hot as hell to be honest. She then turns to Judge Boyer, not even wanting an answer to her question. “What Mr. Daniels fails to understand is that because this is a non-migratory, cooperative species, there will undoubtedly be other nests clustered around that tree. They bore cavities exclusively in living pine trees, unlike other woodpeckers that will use dead trees, which are easier to breach. It can take a red-cockaded woodpecker three years to bore out their roost. The average cluster will usually take up approximately ten acres, although clusters have been found to congregate in areas as large as sixty acres.”
“That’s all fine and good,” I say to put in my two cents. “And I did do my research, contrary to what Miss Jones wants to believe. Your Honor, the red-cockaded woodpecker can have clusters as few as one nest in only one acre. As such, we have to consider the possibility this one tree is the only nest that could be in danger.”
“And it could be upward of sixty acres or more,” Viveka reminds the judge. “And if you let them start tearing down those trees, a significant number of the species could be killed.”
Judge Boyer holds up her hand, indicating she’s heard enough. “I appreciate that Mr. Powell is in a precarious financial position here, but I certainly can’t ignore a federally protected species that could be in danger. You’ve both made compelling arguments, and I think what we can all agree on is that we don’t know enough to make an informed decision. While I’m sure you both have argued the law in these briefs you’ve handed up, it would make a difference if I knew how many, or as the case may be, how few, birds are present on Mr. Powell’s land. As such, I’m going to order that the injunction remain in place for another ten days. In that time, I suggest the two of you hire whatever experts you need to evaluate the land and figure out exactly what we’re dealing with. I expect to have your findings presented to me within ten days, and we’ll go from there. This court’s adjourned.”
Judge Boyer doesn’t bother rapping her gavel on the wooden top of her desk. Not many judges do that nowadays. Instead, she stands fluidly up from her chair and disappears through a door behind the bench.
Since this is out of the way, my thoughts turn to dinner and another evening spent with Viveka.