Page 4 of Savage in the Streets
Dread twists in my gut at the mention of my sister, though I’m glad he cares enough to ask. My parents wrote her off long ago.
“She’s better.”
“That’s great to hear. Now, when are you going to settle down and have some kids of your own? You’re pushing thirty-two. Clock’s ticking.”
Once upon a time, I would have answered: as soon as Carolyn agrees to be my wife, but it just doesn’t feel like that life is in the cards for me anymore.
Thankfully, a knock sounds on the door, and a guard tells Judge Fischer it’s time to get moving.
* * *
Ashton
Bailey’s caseis third on the docket, and we get before Judge Fischer fairly quickly. After polite formalities, I approach the bench with Alvarez, the asshole prosecutor I have to contend with.
Judge Fischer eyes Bailey’s up and down, taking in her unique presence. “Well, your taste certainly has changed over the years.”
With long black dreads and tattoos poking out of her orange jumper, Bailey’s look runs edgy. Still, her features are delicate, and her skin is porcelain white. Perfection through a darker lens is what I’d call her, though that forces me to acknowledge just how captivating she is.
Judge Fischer knows that saying something like that could get tongues wagging, and quite honestly, I’m shocked and offended by the insinuation. Especially in front of a shark like Alvarez.
I clench my jaw, forcing the frustration from my face. This is Robin Fischer, after all. Carolyn’s father.
“Your Honor, Bailey Savage is my client. Nothing more. It would be highly unethical for me to cross—”
“I meant the type of case,” Judge Fischer cuts me off. “You’re a big, fancy corporate attorney with a Harvard law degree representing a woman who’s…” he looks at the file, his brow drawing inward. “Well, that’s impressive.”
Alvarez chuckles low in his throat. “But not at all surprising.”
“This woman is accused of basically enacting a low-level Ponzi scheme, stealing around five-hundred thousand dollars,” Judge Fischer mumbles under his breath.
Not a lot of money, in the grand scheme of things, but enough to make her a felon.
“Bring her before me,” Judge Fischer demands.
To my relief, she obeys, walking up to the bench without so much as a word.
“On the charge of felony theft, how do you plead?” The judge asks Bailey.
“I didn’t do it,” she says.
“Am I to understand that you’re entering a plea of not guilty,” he returns.
“Potato, puh-tot-toe.”
I arch a brow. “Did you really just say ‘potato, puh-tot-toe’ to the judge at your arraignment?”
Alvarez can barely conceal his laughter.
Fuck, no use dwelling on it…
“Would setting bail at twenty-thousand dollars be reasonable?” I interject.
“Twenty-thousand dollars?” Bailey snickers. “I hope you didn’t believe my brother when he said he’ll pay you back.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to talk?” I snap at her.
Alvarez shakes his head with a smirk. “Isn’t that on the low end for felony theft?”
