Vindicate

“Can I help you?” Sava

Sava

“I’m here to see Ed Nash,” the girl says, as she flips her blue-and-black streaked hair out of her eyes.

It’s the same blue, I notice, as her eyes. Which is weird because the blue is not an ordinary blue and I don’t normally notice a girl’s eyes. Tits and ass, yes. Legs, maybe. Eyes, no. And now I’m letting my lecherous gaze wander from those startling blue eyes to the rest of her, which is just as extraordinary.

“What’s your name?” Sava

“Cora Hollis.”

Cora catches me staring as Sava

“I don’t have you on the books,” Sava

“I don’t have an appointment,” Cora replies, her attention off me and on Sava

“What’s this about?”

“I was hoping Mr. Nash would take a look at my brother’s case—”

Sava

Such bullshit. Sava

Cora drops the box on the edge of Sava

I can see this is going to get ugly, so I slip into Dad’s office. He’s scrolling through a report on his computer.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” he answers, without turning around.

“Sava

He turns and blinks up at me over his reading glasses. “Did I forget about an appointment?”

“No. This girl doesn’t have an appointment, but shouldn’t you at least talk to her? Could be an interesting case.”

My father chews this over for a moment. He loves interesting cases, but he loves interesting paying cases more, and I have a feeling that Cora Hollis is going to be the former, not the later.

“You want to sit in on it with me? See how it’s done?”

Up until now I’ve managed to find an excuse to be anywhere but where I might learn how anything in this office is done. I shrug a shoulder, trying to hide how glad I am that I get to find out what Cora’s deal is. “Sure.”

He tosses aside his glasses and runs a hand over the three hairs he combs back to hide his bald spot. “Show her in, then.”

I arrive back at the reception area just in time. Cora’s leaning across her box, pointing a finger in Sava

I finally understand the phrase “Don’t shit where you eat.”

“Mr. Nash has time for you now,” I say, moving to pick up Cora’s box.

She jerks it away before I can get a hand on it. “Thanks,” she says. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure? It looks heavy.” I can feel Sava

“I just carried it up a flight of stairs,” Cora says. “I think I can manage another few feet.”

I gesture for her to precede me. As she passes I get a whiff of something spicy. My thoughts immediately go into the gutter and my gaze fixes on her ass as I follow her into Dad’s office. I’ve got to find out what this chick’s story is. Does she have a boyfriend? Does she live close by? Can I get her number?

As I close the door to Dad’s office, I catch Sava

I’ve got to find a way to fix things with Sava

“Cora Hollis,” I begin the introductions. “This is Ed Nash. And I’m Leo. Leo Nash. Dad, Cora Hollis.”

Dad comes around his desk to try and take Cora’s box for her, but she won’t let him. I like her independence. I like a whole hell of a lot about her.

She sets the box next to one of the chairs and holds her hand out to my dad. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”

“My pleasure. Please, have a seat.”

She takes the one closest to the door, next to where she put her box, and I take the one on the other side. I can look at her now without seeming like a big giant creep. It’s like my senses have gone supersonic where she’s concerned. I take in everything about her. Like her nails, which are long and painted that same vivid blue—Cora blue—all except for her pinkies. Those she’s chewed to nubs. She dresses like she couldn’t care less what people think of her. I respect that. There’s something about her that’s lost, but she acts as though she knows exactly where she’s going. And she doesn’t seem to give a shit about me, which makes me like her even more.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Hollis?” Dad asks.

“I understand your agency does pro bono work for The Freedom Project,” Cora begins. “My brother, Beau, was falsely convicted of the rape and murder of his ex-girlfriend five and a half years ago. He’s serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.”

“I’m sorry,” Dad says, and I want to kick him under the desk, “but we’ve already taken on our one case for the year. If you come back in December—”

She pops out of her seat, her hands out in front of her, pleading. She’s suddenly vibrating with anger, frustration, desperation, or maybe a mixture of all three. I can’t stop staring at her. She rivets me. She’s like one of those warrior women, going into battle. I imagine her with a shield and a cape that flaps out behind her.

“Every day my brother sits in prison is another day he could be killed.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “He’s survived two thousand seventeen such days already, including today. I’ve spent every single one of those days working to get him free.” She folds her hands over her heart. “Please reconsider. I’ll pay you what I can. I have some money. I’ll even help with legwork or whatever.” She gestures to the box on the floor, the one I’ve been curious about from the moment I saw her with it. “I’ve brought all my work with me. Please. I need your help.”

She doesn’t look like she wants or needs anyone’s help, but here she is, standing in the middle of my dad’s office, demanding it. I switch my attention to Dad, who seems just as struck by her intensity as I am. I can see him wavering. But he can’t afford to take on another charity case.

“He’s only twenty-three,” she says. “Maurice Battle sat in prison, convicted for a crime he didn’t commit, for thirty-nine years. He was nineteen when he went in and fifty-eight when he finally came out. I don’t want that for my brother. Please.”

“I could help.” Both of their heads swivel in my direction. I didn’t realize I’d opened my mouth, but now that the words are out I’m not sorry I said them. “With your guidance,” I add lamely.