Page 41 of Last First Time
I try to make sense out of what he’s saying, but I already pled not guilty to the assault charges, right? Where the hell is Abernathy when I need him? Couldn’t he use his secret lawyer decoder ring and figure out when I needed his help?
Well, I have a fifty-fifty shot of getting this right. “Not guilty?” I ask, wincing a little bit.
The gavel bangs, and people say some more legalese things that don’t make any sense to me. The attorney thanks the judge and gathers up some papers, preparing to leave.
I look over at Huey and then Louie, who are right behind me. “Where to next, gentlemen?”
One of them—I can’t really tell them apart anymore now that they aren’t next to me in a car—looks at me carefully, like I’m keeping the secret to happiness and the meaning of life from him. Now that’s weird. We were getting along fine during the drive here. Maybe he doesn’t want to be seen fraternizing with the criminal types in front of the judge or something.
I sigh. “Hey, if you’re taking me to get disappeared, you can go ahead and tell me now. I’m pretty sure you made me a pinky promise about it on the way here.”
A woman I didn’t notice until now approaches the table where I’m seated. She puts a stack of paperwork in front of me along with a pen, sitting on top like the cherry on an ice cream sundae. When I don’t reach for it, the pen slips to the floor. She gives me a weird look, but then notices that I’m still in shackles.
“Come on, Ian. He’s got to sign the paperwork, so you’re going to have to let him out or put him in the autograph-signing shackles.”
I flinch. “Is that really a thing?” I hunch a little further down in my seat, ashamed that anyone has to deal with me in handcuffs ever, but especially a woman. So much for my supposed gentlemanly upbringing. Well, at least this is only some stranger, not my Kar.
The two men behind me grimace a little, so I have to assume the woman in front of me is making some sort of terrible joke. Then Huey leans forward and unlocks my shackles. I rub at my wrists, trying to take the weight of the metal off them, but it’s going to take a little longer than a few moments.
I shiver a bit. “Thanks for at least untying me before you slaughter me, Buttercup.”
The two marshals roll their eyes but give no other notice that they’ve even heard me. Huh. There must be some sort of etiquette here at play that I’m unfamiliar with.
I look at the woman again. “Thank you for that,” I manage. Somehow, she’s said the right thing to these men to get my hands freed.
“Yeah, okay. Now go ahead and sign the paperwork. I’ve got to get the kids at 2:30, and I’m going to have to skedaddle on out of here in a hurry.”
I nod, not really having any clue what she’s talking about or who she even is. Was she in the courtroom with us this entire time and I didn’t notice her?
“We’ll get you up to the press conference as quickly as possible,” she says, patting the papers in front of me like she’s trying to call a dog.
“I’m sorry. What press conference?” I shake my head.
She huffs. “Mr. Harrington, please. The carpool pick-up lane is second only to the Thunderdome in vicious cut-throat behavior. Well, second to Thunderdome and the Valentine, Indiana mayoral election, apparently.” She taps her foot at a rapid pace. “I really need you to autograph next to all the little sticker tabs, and then I can go.”
The one I think is Louie clears his throat. “First rule of the federal courthouse is do whatever the clerk wants you to do.” He makes a little motion with his head toward the woman in front of me. “Don’t piss off Genevieve if you want to make it out of here without orders coming down for your untimely disappearance.”
I nod, then sign off along all the places she marked. I don’t bother reading it because I know I’ll have to pay Abernathy to read it for me anyway, and I probably won’t understand half of it even if I’m here all night long staring at the words.
Approximately two thousand signatures later, I hand Genevieve back her pen, then reach up and stretch a bit in the chair.
She nods at me, bundling up the paperwork. “I’ll get you a copy to take with you. Good luck, Mr. Harrington.”
I smile at her as best as I can. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”
The two marshals make a move toward me and my shoulders sag in defeat. Time to get locked back up, I guess. But instead, they escort me toward an elevator near the back, this time without any shackles.
One of them leans over toward the other in the elevator. “I think we can slip him into one of the bathrooms along the back hallway before we cut him loose.”
The other man nods. “He really looks like hell.”
“Hey,” I pipe up. “I’m standing right here, guys.”
“You really do look like you’ve spent the night in jail, Mr. Harrington. You’re not going to want to make a television appearance looking that way.”
I snort-cackle. Snackle. “I don’t want to make a television appearance at all. I only want to call my lawyer and have him fix this somehow.”
The two men do that eye conversation thing again.
