We Were Forever Read online

  “You don’t want out of here? To go home?”

  I don’t have a home anymore. Not one that I want to go to anyway. I laugh, unamused. “I’ve been here a long time, but not long enough. Got a lot more time to go. There is no going home.”

  “I’m good at what I do.”

  I smirk at her choice of words and she blushes.

  “I’ve read your case. You had a shit attorney before. Don’t be stupid over self-pride or some man card bullshit. I can get you out of this. Get you your daughter back.”

  Shit just got real. I’m not playing games. Not when it comes to them.

  “How do you know about her?”

  “I told you, I’m good at what I do.” She gives me a final wink and walks to the door putting an extra pep in the sway of her ass without looking back. She pauses, her hand on the doorknob ready to walk out, just waiting on the guards to buzz her through. “Think about it, okay?” And then she’s gone.

  The guard takes her place and escorts me back to my cell.

  I lay my head down for a bit, needing the quiet now more than ever. I’m trying not to think about Veronica and Leylah. Blaze and all the shit he’s done for me despite the fact that he’s barely been to visit me. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen him since being locked up. Or anybody for that matter.

  Fuck, of course I want to get out of here. There’s nothing more frustrating than being confined to these four walls. Wanna go out to eat at your favorite restaurant? Watch a movie? Go for a walk on the beach? Too bad. I hate every second of it. I understand that prison isn’t supposed to be fun. I just miss the small things a lot more than I ever thought I would.

  I’ve spent the last year picturing Leylah walking around out there in the world with my daughter. Spending her days doing whatever the hell she wants. She hasn’t been to see me, but I knew she wouldn’t come. Hell, I don’t want her within fifty miles of this shithole, and truly, I can’t say I blame her but that doesn’t make that hole where my heart once was hurt any less. It’s what I deserve, though, for abandoning her when she needed me the most.

  There’s no doubt when I’m mad the rage takes over. I welcome it. There’s no changing my mind. Even if it’s a shit decision that’s going to make the rest of my life suck. I know that now and I’d do anything to change that part of who I am.

  To see her pretty face one more time.

  To feel her warm sun-kissed skin flush with mine.

  My mind drifts to the image forever sketched into my soul of her long black hair and the way her curves fit perfectly in my hand. It’s been too long since I’ve had my mouth on her, but I’ll never forget the way she tastes. Just the thought of her like that makes my dick hard.

  I reach down and adjust myself in my jumpsuit pants—another daily reminder of everything I’m missing out on. With all the time in the world, I palm my hard length and distract myself from the pain, chasing a release that only she can give me.

  Veronica wasn’t bullshitting me when she said she was good at her shit. Forty-seven days later, I’m standing across from the woman that holds my very near future in her hands. Veronica brought me a suit to wear, swearing that it makes a huge difference in how the judge views me. It looks better to be in civilian clothes than your prison uniform. I won’t argue with that.

  Veronica told me not to ask questions and do what she says. So, besides what V tells me and what I hear from the judge, which isn’t much, I’m in the dark. I’m fine with that. I don’t need all the nitty gritty, behind the scene details. If she can get me out of here like she says, I’ll sit back and let her do her thing. Which is exactly what I’ve done until now. I’ve spent countless hours sitting beside her in the courtroom listening to her talk and argue and go to bat to defend me. I’m not really listening to what she’s saying, but the sound of her voice soothes something inside of me.

  Now, shit’s getting real and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t nervous. And I don’t do nervous. My hands are sweaty, and the collar of this damn suit is choking me. I keep adjusting it, but V gives me looks every time I move. I hate these suits she dresses me up in. Some designer bullshit name she said. I can’t remember now. She stopped telling me about it when I told her I’d burn the courtroom down if she brought me another one.

  I’ve been confined in a small, hot room for the past four hours with ten other guys that have committed crimes like me, and worse. Murder, child abuse, rape. You name it, they’re in here. And there’s me, in the middle of all of them looking no different than they do.

  Now it’s my turn to hear the fate that Veronica has been promising me of nothing but good fortune. I hope she’s right because this is it. There’s no going back after this. An appeal, a retrial after a retrial—none of that fancy lawyer shit will happen after this. Even if it did, the percentage of it being successful is pretty much nothing after the first time.

  The deputy clerk walks me over to the bench to stand next to Veronica. “The matter before the court at this time, United States vs. Roman Blackhart.”

  Judge Hardaway sits and looks around the courtroom. “Alright, good morning, counsel. Roman Blackhart is represented by Veronica Decosta and her firm partner, Eddie Stillman. The jury is present at this time.” There’s a round of good mornings said back to the judge and I don’t know my boundaries here, so I don’t say anything yet. This day is much different than all the others. I can feel the electricity of the atmosphere buzzing around me. Hardaway sits but Veronica remains standing, as do I.

  “Mrs. Kinner, would you please give the verdict forms envelope that you have to my Deputy here?” An older woman in her mid-fifties does as she’s asked and says good morning.

  Hardaway pushes her glasses up her nose and shuffles through her papers. Placing some in stacks here and some there. Honestly, the flippancy she has shown the entire time I’ve been in here is nerve-wracking. She looks like she’s just leisurely reading the newspaper at her breakfast table. “And would you return those to the juror, please?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “Alright. Now that you’ve had the chance to review the verdict, are they the same ones that you signed and reviewed?”

  “Yes, your honor.”

  “Hand them to my deputy, once again.” People cough, there’s lots of shuffling around in the stands. I’m shitting my pants. I just want out of here as soon as possible. “Great. Now, ladies and gentlemen, and the jury, I’m going to ask that you please listen to the verdicts as they are being read by the clerk. After the verdicts have been read, you will be asked if these are your correct verdicts. If there is any disruption during the verdict readings, the bailiff will be instructed to remove any person disrupting the proceedings. Understood?”

  “Mrs. Decosta, Mr. Stillman, Mr. Blackhart, stand and face the jury.”

  “Mrs. Kinner, go ahead.”

  “The Superior Court of California, of Orange County, in the matter of the people of the state of California vs. Roman Blackhart case number JT1457699, we the jury in the above entitled action find the defendant not guilty of the crime of murder in violation of Penal Code Section 555-A, a felony, upon Armillio Caballero, as charged in count one of the information provided.

  “We the jury further find this circumstance that the defendant has been convicted of a crime of murder of the first degree to not be true.” Veronica reaches for my hand subtly and gives it a tight squeeze. I hear the words she just read, but they don’t connect with the logic in my brain that what they just said is really happening. I don’t even realize I’m crying. The wetness streams down my face and I don’t bother to take my hand away from V’s to wipe it away.

  “Alright, alright. Let’s quiet the courtroom, please. I may remind you that if you disturb this proceeding, you will be escorted from the courtroom immediately. Mrs. Decosta, Mr. Blackhart, please take a seat.” Everyone around me is probably just as shocked as I am to hear the news. I still don’t know how she did it, or even got the judge to look at me tw
ice.

  “Thank you, bailiff, Orange County Sherriff’s department, and jury commissioner. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am excusing you from your services on this case. Thank you, very much.”

  Veronica shakes my hand, for audience purposes, and gathers her things scattered across the table. “Congrats! They’re dismissing the case!” I’m still in such shock that I can’t even thank her properly for everything she’s done. The adrenaline rushing through me feels like a high I’ve never felt before. I just hope it doesn’t all come crashing down before this is over. “It may be a few hours. Just sit tight. I’ll file my paperwork and be there waiting.” The sheriff cuffs me, for my safety and the others, and escorts me back to the holding room. Now I know that heavy sense of relief those guys that go to prison for twenty years for the wrong crime and finally get set free after all those years must feel. Except I’m not so innocent, and I definitely don’t deserve to walk.

  I had to wait twenty-four hours for my paperwork to be filed to officially drop the charges. It probably didn’t even really take that long; they were milking it for all they could not to let me go.

  I turned down my offered right to a medical visit before I’m released. I just want to get the hell out of here. The guards take their time taking my inmate ID card and erase it right in front of me. Followed by taking a new set of fingerprints, and one last mug shot.

  Not until they hand me my wallet I had on me that day over a year ago, do I start to feel like this is real. It’s really happening. No one’s going to pop out and say, “Hey, asshole, go back to your bunk.” Basically, it’s a whole lot of hurry up and wait. I’m not going to celebrate until I’m a hundred yards away from this joint and safely on the other side.

  They hand me my release payment of a shitty $200 and go on and on reminding me that despite the fact that the charges were dismissed, I still have to report once a month, obtain permission to travel, and the really fucking annoying one-attend court-ordered anger management classes for one whole year. It is what it is, though, and I’m not going to bitch about it. I’m lucky they even took Veronica’s case for me. Anything is better than being in here for the rest of my life. Denial put me here, maybe? Of the fact that I would even end up here, let alone forever. I thought I could handle it. Thought I’d change and grow accustomed to it if it went down like it did. Or maybe that’s the problem, I didn’t think at all. Never imagined that life as my reality. But it’s different in here. Not what you expect until you live it. It changes you mentally and physically.

  “Hope we don’t see you again,” the guard says and slaps me on the shoulder, shuffling me toward the locked gates standing between me and the outside world. I have all the belongings I can carry in an oversized Ziplock baggie, and nothing else. This is all I have left.

  The buzzer sounds and the red light indicating the gate is locked flashes to green. When the click of the lock hits my ears, my feet gravitate toward it as if they have a mind of their own. Everything else is a blur. One gate, two gates. On the third, I’m escorted out into the courtyard, except on the good side of the fence. The right side, not trapped on the ugly side with hundreds of other men that probably shouldn’t even have the right to be breathing right now.

  The final, exterior door closes behind me and I look up to the old towering building. The razor wire high on the fences around the perimeters, impossible to reach the top. The tiny slits the size of a soda can in the stucco exterior all that’s there for a window. My home for the past year. The one that taught me a lot about myself and who I am. Or more accurately, who I’m not anymore. I turn back around and walk toward my freedom, and I don’t allow myself to look back again. Afraid that if I do, it’ll all somehow be taken away from me.

  I don’t know why, but it surprises me to see Veronica, true to her word, waiting at the curb in jeans and a t-shirt. I guess I should have expected her here after all she’s been doing for me over the past few months. It’s not who I would have chosen to be here if I could, but I’m thankful, nonetheless.

  “You came.”

  “Duh! We just made a huge victory. You think I’d leave you in there after all that?” I eye her skeptically, still not understanding why she’s doing all this for me. I haven’t paid her a penny so she’s not working on my dime. Is it the publicity? The experience she gains under her belt from winning a murder case? She catches me eyeing her lit cigarette. “Want it?” She hands it to me without waiting for my answer, red lipstick coating the part that was just between her lips, and I willingly accept.

  I nod. “Yeah, I do actually.” She grins back at me while I inhale what’s left of it. The smoke burns my throat in the best way. Cigarettes were prime contraband, and not worth the hassle. I saw grown men kill other men just for a pack of smokes. That’s not saying I didn’t have my fair share of them, just not like this, the real thing.

  “You look good. Healthy.” She squeezes my bicep and her hand lingers longer than it probably should but I’m not fighting it. I’ll let her touch me wherever she wants. “You’ve gotten a lot of ink since high school.”

  “No shit. A lot of things have changed since high school.” I am healthy on the outside. Hard not to be when you have access to nothing but church, a half-assed gym, and whatever your assigned day job is. I’m not a church guy so you can guess where I spent most of my free time. Not to mention, the food is shit. There is no indulging. Which reminds me, “I need a cheeseburger.”

  Veronica laughs and starts the car. “Let’s go get you one, then. Or four. Whatever you want.”

  “Where’d you find this car? It’s badass.” I didn’t expect this petite blonde lawyer to drive an old muscle car. A 1970s Chevelle to be exact. Turns out, she is full of surprises.

  “It was my dad’s. He completely restored it,” she yells over the sound of the road and the wind whipping her hair around. I whistle in admiration and stick my hand out the window and let the air push my arm back as we ride all the way to town just like that.

  “You’ve got to remember, I might be a miracle worker, but I don’t know that I could do it twice on one case.” She smirks at me, proud of her work and not afraid of showing off her accomplishments. Me being the grand prize. I can’t help but feel like I’m just a check in her box. Another notch to add to her resume. Nobody is ever nice just for the sake of being nice. No strings attached. No ulterior motives.

  I shove another cheeseburger in and down my Coke. I nod to everything she says but I stopped paying attention once she started talking rules. I can’t focus. All I can think about is Leylah and what she’s doing in this exact moment. Our daughter and how much I know she’s grown. She was just a baby when I went inside, and they grow fast. I know I’ve missed a lot.

  “So, why’d you do it? Perform such big miracles, as you call it,” I ask around my mouth full of food. The million-dollar question.

  She takes another drink of her milkshake and studies my face before responding. Is she working out which lie to tell? She has proven to be good at that so far. “I saw your case in the paper when you were sentenced. I had just got laid off at my old law firm. My boss was a real dick. Fired me when I wouldn’t let him in my pants like all the other women in the office.” She sucks her straw till what’s left of her milkshake bubbles up on the bottom and it makes that annoying slurping sound.

  “Said I’d never make it in this field if I didn’t give it up and be a real woman.” She uses air quotes and shrugs. “So, I said fuck him and went rogue. I spent some time looking for smaller pro bono cases to help build a good reputation and that’s when I saw your case and spent all my time invested into it. I actually hired a PI to help with some of the legwork and found out a lot of what they wrote on your case sentencing was just hearsay. The problem was proving it. That’s why it took so long. I’d have come sooner, but I didn’t want you asking questions. Nothing that could be thrown out or work against us.”

  “Thank you, really, I don’t know what else to say that would express how much
it means to me. It’s my life, so...It just means a lot.” I’m bad at this whole expressing your feelings thing and she shrugs again. She keeps doing that, shrugging.

  “I couldn’t let you sit in there. Not after all that we went through when we were kids. Not without trying, at least. I had to try.”

  I tilt my head at the way she describes us. Just kids. “Why’d you run off, anyways? You could have gone to school here.”

  She shakes her head, not even giving it another thought. “I just couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for something you’re not sorry for. You don’t have to do that with me.” I throw her words back in her face, half-joking, but she only nods in response and I’ve successfully managed to make it awkward. “You done?” I motion toward her half-touched plate. I guess she’s still more affected by my presence than I am hers. I throw my dirty jail money out on the table and take one last swig of my Coke. Damn, I forgot how good that is. I’m going to need to invest in a good gym now that I’m able to eat whatever I want. I have a lot of making up to do. There’s a whole list and everything.

  She grabs her purse and scoots out of the booth. “We should probably figure out where you’re going to be staying.” She blushes and I know what she’s silently fishing for. Maybe even wishing for it. We haven’t talked about any of my personal life not pertaining to my case, or hers for that matter, until now. “I just mean, for when you report in and all. You’ll need a physical address.” I see the look on her face once she tries to backtrack and not sound so interested. Shit, I’m an asshole. I throw an arm over her shoulder and kiss her temple. It feels foreign but that’s on me. I owe her one. I make a note to try and not be so moody around her no matter what happened in our past. I keep telling myself she moved mountains for me. I can have some kind of relationship with her without pushing her away. Why is it so hard to accept that?

  “Let’s go look at my options, yeah?” Plus, I’m gonna need to drive that car.