Page 42 of Tequila Tuesdays

Damien turned to me and slowly grinned. “Nice suit, Legs. You look like a 1950s pinup model.” His eyes swept me up and down.

I had on a green bikini with boyshort bottoms. I shifted restlessly. “Thanks.” I led the way out to the spool, feeling his eyes bore into my backside the entire way.

Damien groaned when the jets hit his back. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. Your jets have great pressure.”

I positioned myself so one hit me just right then leaned back with a soft sigh. “When I have a particularly rough day, which is usually after juvenile drug court, I’ll come out here in the evening with a margarita to decompress.”

The night was cool, and a little steam wafted up from the spool and swirled around us. It felt intimate and cozy. Damien asked me about juvenile drug court, and we talked about his work. Before I knew it, we’d been in the spool for over an hour.

When we finally got out, and he got ready to leave, I walked him to the door.

“Thank you again for your help with Shanda’s case, and the security equipment and installation. Maybe Ava will quit nagging me about being a criminal defense attorney now.”

Damien shook his head. “I doubt it, but you should be a little safer. I’ll call you this week sometime to finish up. Thanks for dinner, and the soak.”

It had been a good night, and I felt less lonely when I went to bed that night. I also dreamed about hard, wet abs and gray eyes.

Chapter 15

Bythetimejuveniledrug court wrapped up on Tuesday afternoon, my left eye was twitching. I also wanted to kick Roland in his ass. He was my biggest repeat offender, and he’d really outdone himself this time.

Christian, the juvenile prosecutor, let us know about Roland’s birthday party over the weekend when we got to our staffing meeting. Roland and a few of his friends had celebrated his sixteenth birthday in style.

They’d used a parent’s credit card to rent a motel room, and they’d gotten a hold of a few kegs of beer and a couple of bags of edibles. Then one of his friends got the bright idea to hire escorts.

Christian, the prosecutor, reviewed the probable cause statement out loud during the drug court staffing meeting while pinching the bridge of his nose. When he finished, he tossed the report down on the table in front of him.

“I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Honestly, I’d probably be laughing my ass off right now, if I weren’t so pissed at the little shit.”

Judge Perez’s lips twitched. “I can tell you’re mad because you’ve sworn three or four times in the last two sentences.” He looked over at me. “The charges are pending, so we can’t fully address it today.”

Christian shook his head. “I have no idea how they figured out how to hire escorts.”

I shrugged. “They’re teenagers. Most of them know how to navigate the internet better than any of us do.”

“I heard one escort knew right away the boys were underage, and she’s the one who called in an anonymous tip,” Wendy added.

My week was already full of new clients. Thanksgiving weekend had been eventful for a lot of people.

Judge Perez turned to me. “What do you want to do today?”

“There’s nothing Icando. I doubt my client’s been served the Petition, and I haven’t seen the police report. I need to talk to him about the charges and get his side of the story.”

He nodded. “We’ll have to table it for today, and just let him know we’re aware of the alleged incident.”

Pauley, the drug court coordinator, leaned forward and smacked his hand on the table. “He needs to be removed from his mother’s care since she obviously can’t handle him. And he needs to spend at least a week in jail.”

I was not in the mood to deal with Pauley’s bullshit. “He has a presumption of innocence, Pauley. And we’ve talked about how incarcerating minors does not deter behavior so many times I’m not going to insult everyone by spouting it off again.”

“Thank you for sparing us,” Christian muttered.

Wendy scooted forward. “Pauley, DCFS can’t remove every unruly teenager from his or her parents’ care. We’d be overrun.”

We finally moved on to the other drug court participants.

Wendy looked down at the next name on the list. “Darla’s dad reported to me yesterday that while Darla hates mowing lawns and trimming bushes, she likes having money.”

I smirked. “Don’t we all.”

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