Page 18 of Sweet Pea

“I’m making it a point to stay out of your business, how about you stay out of mine?”

“Easy for you to say,” he snapped. “You have a file on me.”

“Not anymore,” I countered.

“But you’ve read it.”

“True.”

“And?” Sweet Pea asked, his tone softening slightly.

“And what?”

“Find anything interesting?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” I said, shifting in my seat uncomfortably, but saying nothing more.

“Jesus, Callie. You gonna tell me what this is all about or not?”

My heart raced and beads of sweat formed on my brow as my internal struggle raged on. I really wished I had more bourbon but forced myself to reveal the horrible truth of why we were here, anyway. “I want John Knight to pay for what he did.”

“Of course, you do,” Sweet Pea replied. “I’m sure you put everything you had into that case. But what does that have to do with me?”

“I failed Elsie Miller once and I’m not going to fail her again,” I said, the fear in my voice giving way to anger.

“What are you saying, Callie?”

“I’m saying I know all about you and your club, and I want to hire you for your services.”

“Are you serious?” Sweet Pea asked. “Do you think I’m a fucking moron? This has got to be the worst set up in the history of the D.A.’s office.”

“This isn’t about my job. The legal system has already failed Elsie. I’m coming to you for justice. This file is an offering of good faith.”

“Why the hell would a lawyer come to a biker, one she recently suspected of being her stalker, to deal with a pedophile?”

“It’s not like I had planned any of this. I thought tonight I’d be having celebratory drinks with Rob. But after the verdict was read and Knight walked free, something inside of me broke. And then he was on the courthouse steps going on about forgiving the family for their sins. As soon as I saw you on the steps, I knew what I had to do if I was ever going to get justice for Elsie.”

“What is it exactly you think I do for a living, counselor?”

“What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to act all innocent? Like I don’t know anything about your lifestyle?”

“What you call my lifestyle, I call my life, and I don’t think you know the first goddamned thing about it, regardless of what it says in this file,” he replied, tossing the folder across the table to me.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said.

“You haven’t offended me. You’ve pissed me off,” he said, without a trace of anger in his voice. From what I could tell, Sweet Pea wasn’t a man who was easily rattled. “Besides, there’s a lot more to me and my club than what’s in that little file of yours.”

“For instance?” I asked.

“You think I’m gonna tell you anything about club business?” He laughed.

“You brought it up,” I challenged.

“No. What I said was, if you knew anything about my club, you’d know exactly how shitty your plan is.”

I studied Sweet Pea’s face carefully, looking for traces of deception, but found none. Determining whether someone is lying to you is possibly the greatest asset a trial attorney can have. My father was a human polygraph. I was better than most, but not without my blind spots. There were many things about Sweet Pea that caused me to believe him, but I was also acutely aware that I wanted to believe him, and that made me nervous as hell.

“I’d ask if I can get you anything else, but I don’t think there’s anything left in the kitchen,” Sally Anne said as she arrived with our food. Our order was so large, Sally Anne had to be accompanied by another waitress with a full tray of her own. Our drinks were once again refreshed and the giant spread, laid out before us.

---