Curveball(9)
“I should have let him fry.” I hate that tears are building up in my bottom lids, so close to spilling over. My voice cracks as I speak, “He should be in prison right now, not walking the streets as a free man.”
“I don’t disagree with you. But you could have lost the right to practice law if you had tampered with the case in any way or intentionally provided ineffective counsel.” He rests his elbows on his desk and leans forward, pinning me down with his gaze. “Lawyers get a bad rap because of all the sleazeball ambulance chasers. They don’t see the tough cases or bad losses.”
“I wanted him to find other representation, but he wanted me. He said I looked like his first victim.” I cringe at the memory of my previous interactions with my former client. “My boss refused to assign a different lawyer to the case. The DA didn’t have enough evidence to win his case, and with the spotty evidence and unreliable testimony, he left the door wide open for me to pursue other avenues.”
“Look at it this way, Olivia. You ended your trial career with a solid win streak even if that case was not a win for the citizens of Philadelphia.”
“But he’ll do it again.” I wipe the corner of my eye, overcome by emotion. “Brandis is as sick as they come. I’ve never met someone so depraved in my entire life. Just being around him made me sick to my stomach. How am I supposed to live with the fact that I let a guilty man walk because the DA didn’t have enough evidence? Brandis confessed to me in detail, told me everything he had done to those girls. It was like listening to Hannibal Lecter describe how a human liver tastes.”
He shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips. He’s somewhat amused by my reference, though I do not share his sentiment. “You just have to find a way to move on. We all have one case that stays with us for a lifetime. I’m very happy to have you on my staff.”
“I just broke attorney-client privilege by telling you that he’s guilty, so I think my legal ethics might need evaluating.”
He shrugs, unaffected. “I already knew he was guilty, and no one is here to tell on you.” He winks.
For over a month after I secured a not guilty verdict for Brandis, I slept on my couch with a kitchen knife in my hand, terrified he would come for me next. I had to take a temporary leave of absence from the public defender’s office that led to a permanent one before I knew it, prompting my search for employment that landed me a job at Club Rave. My boss had to replace me because of their current caseload. While I knew deep down that I could never practice law again—at least, not criminal—I still wanted to continue with my legal career. Law school had cost me a fortune, a small fortune I wasn’t about to waste when I had tons of bills and too much pride to give up.
But that sabbatical gave me a lot of time to think. I sat down with my parents, and even though I could not tell them why I’d lost my passion for the law, they knew it had to do with me taking on such a high-profile case, and they encouraged me to look into the open position in the Strickland law department.
“Unless you have questions for me, I will see you on Monday.” Professor Swanson pushes his chair back from his desk and stands.
I shake my head. “No, I have taken up enough of your time.” My words and facial expression do not match how I feel on the inside.
I need to get out of here before I embarrass myself, so I thank him for his time and wish him a nice weekend. My hands and legs are trembling, but this time, it’s not from Mark. As soon as I leave Professor Swanson’s office, I haul ass across campus and into my car where the never-ending waterworks begin.
Chapter Four
Mark
Now that I’m on the final stretch before graduation, I don’t have any room to fuck off. Even though graduating with honors is not something I need to play in the majors, it’s still something I want to achieve, seeing as I’m the only person in my family to attend college, let alone graduate.
The spring semester starts in two days.
Instead of partying with the boys, I need to go out and make some cash, so the bank won’t foreclose on my mother’s house. She spent most of my life on the couch with a bottle in her hand, living off welfare, too drunk to notice she had two children depending on her for food and support. Over the years, I’ve stashed away enough money to give my little sister a chance at a future, away from our mother and the shitty neighborhood that has slowly made its decline.
The only thing I ever dreamed about as a kid was playing for the Philadelphia Phillies, a dream that will hopefully come true by the end of the school year. Baseball has been my life for so long that I’ve never thought of what I might want to be other than a professional baseball player.
Until then, I have to do the same questionable shit I have done for years, ever since I was raised by the streets and always knew that, if I wanted something, I had to take it—something I learned while growing up around the Marchese crime family. Breaking the law never seemed all that strange after I became the sole source of income for my mother and sister before I even started high school.
There were some nights I wasn’t sure we would last another day without the generosity of the Marchese family and the rackets Luca and I ran on the side. Now, I’m about to do something that’s less illegal as bookmaking and running card games but still illegal nonetheless.