30 December 2009

Saturday: Part Four

"Amber." He almost made me feel like an asshole. Almost. His eyes told me I was being a jerk, that Mike really was worried.

I reached up and put my palm on his cheek, "I wasn't going to keep the fax. I won't go looking for Mr. Scarey, okay?" I dropped my hand and started to walk toward the kitchen to get Mike something warm and caffeinated to drink when he grabbed my wrist.

"I can't stay, not today. The blizzard is supposed to get worse. I'm going to take the fax and go. And you are going to drop this."

I stared at him, choosing my words carefully. I knew what I should say but if he was just taking my work and going? Yeah, I was a little miffed at the guy. To say the least.

I drove steel spikes full of malice into him with my eyes. I knew I had no leg to stand on, I also knew noone in Great Falls, judges anyway, would side against either of us over a teeney little fax. I glared at Detective Timothy and said the most venomous words I could at that moment, "Mike, you are a big jerk. You really believe I'll just drop this? I figured that this guy I got the fax from knows a lot more in the conclusion department than he's lettin' on. And h-"

"Damnit, Amber, enough!" He shook as he yelled, his eyes having then lost the worry. He was Detective Michael Timothy at that moment. Crap. He's really mad. "This bullshit ain't happenin! You aren't a detective! You're a fucking slut lawyer!"

I didn't even think. I balled up my fist and punched him square in the chest. I heard the hot air escape all at once.

"Slut?! What the fuck, Mike? What the hell's gotten into you? Slut?" It hurt and pissed me off all at the same time (anger is always another emotion). He was supposed to be the "nice guy".

"I can arrest you. Obstruction," he glanced at the fax mess, "interception, assault. On. A. Fucking. Cop!"

A snicker escaped. Again with inappropriate laughter. I put my finger in his chest, pushing him towards the couch.

"You verbally assaulted me! I'll get your fax together and you can get the hell out! Hart will just send me another copy anyway."

Jerk. I thought as I gathered the fax into a folder. I'll just ask someone else to get me a copy or maybe, if he wasn't too pissed, maybe Hart would get me another copy. I heard the familiar beep-beep of a cell being dialed. I stood and looked to Mike who was sneering bitterly.

"This is Detective Timothy. I know you're out of the office for the weekend, Ralph, but I need you to call me the moment you get this message. It's in regard to one of your attorneys Amber Wright. Seems Ms. Wright is taking it upon herself to tamper with evidence, have a personal fax meant for me sent to her fax, assault me -"

I couldn't believe what he was doing! Mike was calling a Senior Associate, a partner, and tattling like a two year old! He left his number and urged my boss to call him immediately.

Shoving the fax at him, I turned him towards the door. The familiar sting of tears promised to cascade and I didn't want him to see. Even if they were tears of I-hate-you-Detective-Jerkoff-Timothy!

"You need to go! First you call me a slut out of random, then you call my boss? What are you? 2?"

I grabbed the door handle, twisted and yanked all at once. At the same time I was opening the door, I was trying to push Mike out of it. He did a hop stumble onto the porch.

"Wait. I need to apologize." The back of his head was close enough I could headbutt the big jerk if it weren't for neighbors.

"I'm sorry I called you a slut. That was anger and jealousy. Nothing to do with this." He held up the file. "I heard about you and James."

He turned to face me. His eyes clouding over, he looked truly repentent. Good. His hand clung to the jam.

"I suggest you move your hand if you want to keep your fingers. You're getting snow in my house."

"I'm not apologizing for calling Ralph though. That's for your own good. I've seen all the bodies. You don't know what this is. Please. For your own safety, just be an attorney til this all goes away."

"You're still getting snow in my house. Let go of the door or I'll slam your fingers in it. You have five seconds. 1."

Mike let go and I slammed the door. Thud! I listened to see if I could hear him leave over the bellow of the wind. I heard the engine, he sat there warming his vehicle for a good five minutes as I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, my back to the door waiting. Finally I heard him go.