Devon Hartford - Painless

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I sighed, “Do you have any good news?”

“I’m brimming over with good news,” Russell joked, “I’m the Santa Claus of good news.”

“Well?”

“I need the contact information of your friend Jake. I need to get his deposition and add it into the mix. Also, I’ve got people talking to the Hooters wait staff, see if they can corroborate your story that Hunter was in cahoots with three friends.”

“Of course he was.”

“Not according to his statement. He’s making it sound like his friends watched the incident from a block away while you roughed up poor Hunter.”

“Fuck. His buddies were ready to jump in until I put Hunter in his place. The guy is a total liar.”

“A liar he may be, but if I can’t prove he’s whistling Dixie on the stand, the jury is going to have a hard time believing your side of things. Remember, this isn’t a criminal trial, where the prosecution has to convince the jury beyond all reasonable doubt that you’re guilty. This is a civil trial. If Hunter’s attorney can convince the jury that it’s 51% likely that you’re at fault, instead of an even fifty-fifty, they will rule against you. That’s not much elbow room for us. Even if I present the greatest defense of all time, Hunter’s case need only be one percent more convincing than ours, and you’re gonna end up having to pay damages. And right now, Hunter’s attorney is asking for your left nut on top of all the other damages.”

“Maybe we can send him my left nut and call it even,” I grinned.

Russell chuckled, “Last time I checked, the nut market is in a recession, and you won’t get a quarter of what you’re hoping for.”

“Fine. I keep my nut and you win my case. Deal?”

“I’ll do my best. But I’d start looking into prosthetic testicles. I hear you can hardly tell the difference,” Russell laughed.

“Thanks, man. You’re all heart.”

“Don’t worry, son. I’ll take care of this. I’ve got plenty of people looking into things. We’ll track down Hunter’s friends and drag the truth out of them with pliers and tongs.”

“You do that.”

“I’ll have more good news the next time we talk,” Russell said. “Oh, and one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

“No. More. Fights.”

“I hear you loud and clear.”

“Then my job is done. Now, I have a steak waiting for me with my name on it. I’ve got to run. Bye.”

“Later, man.” I ended the call. While I felt fortunate to have Russell watching my back, as always, his expert services weren’t going to be cheap. At the rate things were going, I was going to run out of money before this case was over.

Too bad I’d destroyed that painting of Isabella. I could’ve gotten at least ten grand for it.

Whatever.

Stanford Wentworth had been right. That painting was a piece of shit. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.

I walked inside to join everyone.

Maybe Samantha’s parents could cheer me up.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

* * *

SAMANTHA

“Does anybody need a refill on their lemonade?” Spiridon asked.

Everyone, including Christos, was standing in the kitchen.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” my dad said as he looked at his watch, “but with the three hour time difference, I’m starving. Are you ready to eat, Linda? Remember, we still need to stop by Motel 6 to get our luggage at some point.”

My mom sighed heavily. “Sure.”

She sounded so happy to be here. The feeling was mutual.

“Is there a Cheesecake Factory around here somewhere?” my dad asked.

Leave it to my parents to fly across the country and eat at the same chain restaurant they always went to back home. Their sense of adventure made Christopher Columbus look like a homebody. Not.

“Yeah,” Christos said, “I think there’s one near Hotel Circle.”

“That’s near our motel,” my dad beamed. “We can kill two birds with one stone and get our luggage after dinner.”

Dad could kill three birds with one stone if he smashed me over the head and put me out of my misery.

Then an idea hit me. “Why don’t we invite my friends?” I suggested. “Then you can meet all the cool people I’ve met in San Diego!”

“I was thinking it would just be you, your mother, and I,” Dad said soberly.

“I agree with your father,” my mom said.

I knew what they were thinking. They wanted to corner me and berate me for being an idiot until I changed my major back to Accounting.

It wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ll text everybody right now,” I said, undeterred. I invited Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko. I’d gotten Jake’s contact info, as well as Spiridon’s, after Christos’ trial. I hated not being able to reach people in an emergency.

I briefly considered asking Christos to invite Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse. I was pretty sure her and my mom would bond over their bitchery. In the end, I decided we could do without her. No surprise there.

I pressed send and crossed my fingers that everyone would be able to join us. If they all showed up, I’d be like the quarterback in a football game with all the offensive linemen protecting me from my parents. I wasn’t going to let them blindside me. No way.

When we walked out to the driveway, my parents headed toward their rental car.

“Sam,” my dad asked, “are you coming with your mother and I?”

“I think I’ll ride with Christos and Spiridon,” I said. Did I sound snarky? Only a little.

“Suit yourself,” Mom said as she climbed into the car, which I noticed was a silver Honda sedan. Just like Dad’s car back home. What a surprise. I’d have thought since he was on vacation, he’d go crazy and rent a red Honda. Nope.

“I think I feel like driving the Woody tonight,” Spiridon said. The garage door was already open. “Do you mind, Christos?”

“Not at all,” he said.

The three of us climbed into the classic car. Yeah, we were a million times cooler than my parents.

The engine of the 1949 Plymouth station wagon purred as it pulled out of the garage. Spiridon stopped the car beside my parents’ Honda. My dad rolled the window down and Spiridon asked, “Do you know where we’re going?”

“I’ll follow you,” Dad answered.

Didn’t he know how to use the GPS? I’d seen it in their car earlier. Oh wait, we were talking about my dad. Of course not.

“Don’t go too fast,” my dad said nervously. “I adhere to the speed limit.”

“Don’t worry, Bill,” Spiridon smiled, “I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

I think Spiridon was being too optimistic. When it came to most things, my parents were already totally lost.

SAMANTHA

“This sexy beast can only be your mother,” Romeo said as he shook my mom’s hand in the lobby of the Cheesecake factory.

Romeo actually lifted my mom’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. She tugged her hand away with a hint of disgust before he was finished, surprising Romeo.

“I do have that affect on the ladies,” Romeo winked at her.

My mom scowled at him. I’m sure she was confused. The only romance in her life came from my dad. He was as spontaneous with his romantic gestures as he was with his choice of rental cars.

Kamiko, Madison and Jake were also here. With Spiridon and Christos at my side, that made it seven on two against my parents.

I had high hopes for the evening.

The restaurant was packed, so we had to wait awhile for our table. Madison cornered my parents and asked them a million questions about Washington D.C. I think she was trying to keep them occupied. She understood. She was my own personal emotional bodyguard.

When we were finally seated and the waiter took our drink order, I wasn’t surprised that Christos ordered a double bourbon. With my parents in town, I considered joining him. But I decided I needed to be alert, in case my parents tried to launch a sneak attack. For all I knew they’d blindfold me and throw me in a packing crate the first chance they got so they could ship me back to D.C.

But I could tell something was bothering Christos more than usual. The obvious answer was my parents, but I suspected it was something else. I leaned over and whispered to Christos, “Who called earlier? Is it something I should be worrying about?”

“No, agápi mou. It’s fine,” he smiled.

“You sure?”

“You let me worry about it. Enjoy yourself.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be any worse news than my parents arriving out of nowhere,” I groaned.

Christos chuckled. “True that.” He rested his hand on my knee under the table and looked me in the eyes.

I couldn’t get over how handsome Christos was, even in the middle of his bourbon buzz. His face was so relaxed and dreamy, I wanted nothing more than to fall into his enchanting eyes right at the dinner table. So what if my parents might see? I eyed Christos’ luscious mouth and nibbled on my lower lip. His lips spread in a wide smile over his immaculate white teeth. His legendary dimples appeared. I teased my upper lip with my tongue and giggled softly. I was going to lick those dimples of his, no matter who was watching. I leaned forward, about to—

“Sam?” my mom blurted. “What are you going to eat?”

Dimples? I jolted out of fantasyland and frowned. No, I think my mom meant for dinner. Embarrassment and irritation crackled inside my chest.

My mom’s voice was her special gift. Children everywhere clamored for my mom to read them bedtime stories and soothe their nighttime fears with that voice of hers. No, seriously. My mom was world famous for her bedside manner. She taught sold-out seminars in mothering to giant auditoriums packed full of people. Seriously.