Morgan
had opted for a charcoal suit with a dove gray shirt and gunmetal
gray tie. His handkerchief was gunmetal gray trimmed in dove gray.
Tanya felt somewhat under dressed in her navy serge with smartly
pleated skirt.
Caden
and Morgan took their places at the table. Hal and Tanya sat directly
behind them.
The
bailiff called, "All rise."
The
trial began, each lawyer presenting his case to the judge. Judge
Morse was a morose looking man. He had a sallow complexion, and
dyspeptic manner. He listened closely to each presentation before
frowning at the lawyers and their clients.
"So,
it's a matter of deciding who gets the money?" He frowned at
Vanessa, brows drawn in an angry W.
Vanessa
was conservatively dressed, for her, in a suit that looked like it
was vintage 1985. Hot pink with black piping, it had padded shoulders
and huge gold buttons. Her pleated skirt was only slightly longer
than than the jacket. Her legs were clad in black, sparkly hose, and
her patent leather stilettos matched the suit. She looked like a
blonde Amy Winehouse.
"Young
man," he directed at Morgan. "Do you need this money?"
"No,
Your Honor. In fact, I planned to donate it to charity. I have a
comfortable income as a surgeon."
"And
your family's filthy rich, isn't that right?"
Morgan
quirked a slight grin. "I wouldn't say filthy, sir, but yes.
There's a lot of money."
The
judge nodded, pulling at his lower lip.
"And
you." He pointed at Vanessa. "Do you need the money?"
"It's
not a matter of needing, Your Honor," the lawyer jumped in.
"She
can answer herself. This is my court. We do things my way."
"Yes,
Your Honor, but—"
"Then
let her answer. Well?"
"I
don't come from a rich family, Your Honor," Vanessa answered,
trying to sound meek. "My dad was a janitor. My mom worked as a
waitress."
"And
what do you do for a living?"
"I'm
a dancer." She tossed her head, big hair hardly moving.
"Ballet,
jazz, modern—exotic?" The judge demanded.
Vanessa
reddened. "What do you take me for? I work at the city dance
college. I'm one of the tap instructors."
The
judge nodded. "Not a very lucrative job, I take it?"
Vanessa
shrugged one well padded shoulder. "It pays okay. I meet my
bills."
"But
the money from this song could help," the lawyer interjected
again.
Judge
Morse waved his words away. "You, don't talk." He turned to
Morgan. "Dr. Fellowes, what charity were you planning on
donating to?"
"My
mother died in an accident when I was a boy. My younger brother was
delivered six weeks early, by skillful surgeons at the hospital where
I work. Their neonatal ward is top of the line, but needs new
equipment and money to cover expenses for those who can't pay. The
little bit from the royalties would go to them, Your Honor. It's all
in the paperwork. I already donate on a yearly basis to the NICU."
The
judge perused the information in front of him, taking his time. No
one spoke as he muttered and read bits aloud.
"This
is quite an impressive list, Dr. Fellowes. How long have you been
donating to the NICU?"
"For
ten years, sir. I had a trust fund that matured when I turned
twenty-four. I've channeled a percentage of that money to the
hospital ever since."
Judge
Morse nodded. He gazed at Vanessa over his glasses. "Do you give
to charity?"
Vanessa's
mouth fell open, her jaw working quickly as she tried to form words.
Her lawyer tried to speak, but the judge glared at him, shutting him
up.
"Well?"
"No."
She blinked. "Your Honor."
"If
I awarded you this money, what would you do with it?"
"I
hadn't really thought ahead."
"Do
you have any idea how much money there is?"
"N-no.
I just thought—"
"You
just thought you'd take your rich, ex-boyfriend to court, to win some
piddling amount of cash from him, to hurt him. You thought maybe
you'd turn the knife a little more? I know the history of this song,
Miss Leahy. I heard the same interview, with his younger brother,
that you did. Did you even know about the song before that moment?"
"No,"
she mumbled.
"Did
Dr. Fellowes ever discuss the song with you, when you were dating?"
"No."
She turned her head away.
"In
this courtroom, Miss Leahy, I'm addressed as Judge, sir, or Your
Honor. Is that clear?"
"Yes.
Your Honor." Her manner changed abruptly, turning almost feral.
"So,
how do you know you had anything to do with this song?"
©
2020 Dellani Oakes
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