First. Part 16

"That works for me."

I stood off to the side, not wanting to intrude upon such a touching moment. I looked from one to the other, my smile a mile wide. I could not believe Monica had just waived her fees. All that work for what? That question was answered when I saw the happiness on the young mother's face when her two year old daughter was brought to her by the bailiff. I knew from the case file, and what we'd heard in court that day, that the woman had been through enough with the father, and his family, and just needed some peace with her daughter.

"Come on." I was yanked from my thoughts by a hand on my arm, and a voice in my ear. I looked up to see Monica standing in the elevator cage. I hurried in after her. As the doors closed, I turned to her.

"I can't believe you did that. I thought that sort of thing only happened on Matlock, or Perry Mason." She chuckled, switching her briefcase from her left hand to her right.

"Well, sometimes you have to do what's right instead of what's popular." She pushed the b.u.t.ton that would take us to the lobby of the courthouse, and then turned back to me. "Tell you what, Emily, why don't you go on home, get ready, then I'll pick you up at your house in an hour, okay?" I nodded. What on earth did she have planned?

I climbed into my Jeep outside of Monica's office, and blew out a breath. I was surprisingly tired. I think it had been more of an emotionally tiring day as opposed to anything physical I did; which was next to nothing. I switched on the ignition, and smiled as Wham began to sing, "Wake me up, before you go-go, instead of hanging me on like a yo-yo," I sang along as I pulled out of the parking lot, and headed home, a smile on my face.

I gave my mother a brief description of the trial as she sat on my bed, watching me finish up with my hair, getting ready to go with Monica. My mother listened, and asked questions. She had been so thrilled when I'd told her where I'd be working, and what I was doing.

"There's a client that we're sort of worried about, though." I said, as I tucked my shirt in, and stuck my comb in my back pocket. My mother looked at me strange.

"Honey, why are you taking a comb with you when you have enough hairspray in there to keep a small community together?" I shrugged and looked into the mirror, patting my feathered bangs down.

"I don't know. Guess it just looks cool." I watched her reflection in the mirror as she shook her head in confusion. Parents. They never understood anything about fashion.

"So, tell me about the client you're worried about."

"Oh!" I turned to face her, my face colored with excitement. "Well, we have this client who's name is, well, actually I can't tell you that. Confidentiality." I said, feeling rather important that I knew something my mother didn't. I was slightly irritated when I saw her try to hide a small grin. What was so funny? "Well, anyway, so this client is trying to get their little girl away from the father who is a complete monster. Just two weeks ago he barged into the office, and threatened Monica. The man's crazy!" I turned back to the mirror as I put on my lip gloss, smacking my lips together. "The wife is afraid of what he might do. I know Monica is really worried about it."

"Wow. Sounds exciting." My mother said, leaning back on her hands. I looked at her with wide eyes, and nodded.

"It is." She smiled, and c.o.c.ked her head to the side a bit.

"Where are you going tonight, honey?"

"Monica has some sort of surprise for me. Don't know what's up."

"Oh.' She said, looking down at her hands as she sat up, entwining her fingers together. I drew my brows together.

"Why?" I asked, grabbing my purple, Velcro wallet, and sticking it into my pocket.

"Well, It's just that it's your birthday, and you're never home lately. I know me and dad aren't as exciting as Monica, but I thought you might want to spend some time with us." She looked up shyly at me, then looked back down to her hands. I stared at her dumbly. Not spend time with Monica? It had never even occurred to me. I sighed. Try and be diplomatic, Em.

"I'm sorry, mom." I walked over to her and sat on the bed next to her. "If she hadn't already made plans for us, I would stay home. Tell you what," I put my arm around her shoulders, "Tomorrow is Sat.u.r.day, and I don't have to work, so why don't you and me go down to the mall, and just window shop all day like we used to? We can even go into that music store, and laugh at all those crazy groups coming out." She looked at me and grinned slightly, nodding.

"Okay." I smiled back.

"Thanks, mom." I gave her a quick hug when I heard the doorbell. I shot up from the mattress, nearly knocking my mother off the bed. "She's here." I was running out the door when my mother stopped me.

"Emmy?" I turned back to her, my hand on the door frame.

"Yeah?"

"I'm so proud of you, honey. Have a good time." I smiled, and raced down the stairs.

I jumped into Monica's white Jeep Cherokee with a smile, and glanced over at her. My eyes were nailed to the spot.

"Wow." I breathed. "You look really good." I muttered, then blushed deeply. I hadn't meant to say that out loud as I looked at her red tank top that showed off trim, well-tanned shoulders and arms. That simple silver chain still around her neck, a good contrast against her skin tone. She wore Jean shorts, and sandals. Her short, dark hair was clean and shiny, and combed back. She smiled.

"Thanks. So do you." I smiled, and looked down at my own T-shirt and shorts. I felt like just a kid next to her graceful countenance. She backed us out of the driveway, and we were off.

"So where are we going?" I asked, reaching my arm out of the open pa.s.senger window so I could try and catch the breeze. She shook her head with a smile, her eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead of us.

"Not going to tell you. However, we do have a quick stop to make. Is that okay?" she turned briefly to me before her eyes darted back to the road.

"Fine by me." I said calmly, but inside I was jumping for joy. Monica made me feel so important, as if what I said really mattered, and she saw me as an equal, not as some kid. I felt a smile spread across my face as I stared out into the early evening, everything turning gold as the sun went down.

"And now, a big hit for Rick Springfield, 'Jesse's Girl.'" I turned back to see that she was messing with the radio, about to change the channel.

"No, wait. I love that song." She put her hand back on the steering wheel as the car was filled with the song about a guy who had fallen in love with his best friend's girlfriend.

We jammed to the song as we pa.s.sed through downtown, and headed toward Santa Fe Avenue, and a back road that I had never seen before. I looked around. The small building was low to the ground as if it were hiding from something, a few cars littering the dirt parking lot. Monica pulled up in front of the building, and cut the engine. Turning to me she smiled.

"This will only take a sec." She said.

"Wait, I want to go in with you." I said, looking through the windshield at the building seeing a Budweiser sign in a window. Hmm. Must be a bar of sort. Monica's face darkened slightly.

"Uh, well, are you sure?" she asked, her voice slightly nervous. My curiosity was definitely piqued then. I nodded enthusiastically.

"Yup."

"Okay. Come on."

We walked toward the door of the place, a piece of wood painted black, and nearly were bowled over by someone coming out.

"Monica! Where you been, girl?" I looked up, and up to the tallest man I had ever seen, his dark skin like polished onyx. He was extremely thin with very feminine features, chiseled cheek bones, and straight, white teeth. I squinted as I stared up at him. Was he wearing eye make-up?

"Hi, Magenta!" Monica exclaimed, succ.u.mbing to the ma.s.sive bear hug. I watched on. Magenta? They parted, and the large man looked over at me.

"Who's this precious young thing?" he asked, extending a long, narrow, yet surprisingly elegant hand for me to shake. As I slowly pumped our hands up and down I noticed that he had his nails painted a deep pink. What the h.e.l.l?

"This is Emily. She's working for me for the summer." Monica explained proudly. Magenta nodded with a bright smile.

"Well, it's sure nice to meet you, sweets." He let go of my hand and turned back to my boss. "Sweetheart, I'd love to chat with you, but I must be going. You need to come in some time. We miss you, girl." He said dramatically with an affectionate pat on Monica's shoulder.

"I will. I've been so busy lately."

"Well, catch you two cuties later." He said with a wink, and walked past us, out into the parking lot. I glanced over my shoulder as I watched him sashay to his car, then turned back to Monica to meet amused dark eyes.

"Come on, Emily." She chuckled, holding the door open for me. I walked ahead of her, looking around as I did. The place was dim, but obviously not open for business. As I looked at the string of lights strung around the ceiling and support poles, my guess was that the place was only lit by those tiny lights, and probably on the dark side. Small round tables were everywhere, chairs stacked neatly on top, a hardwood dance floor in the center of the largish room. The long bar was to the left, and back toward the back of the room. Two women were sitting at bar stools talking to the bartender. Other than that, the place was empty.

I moved to the side, allowing Monica to walk past me as I had no clue where we were going, and why we were there. The two women, and male bar tender looked over in our direction, one of the women standing, but not walking toward us. Her eyes were on Monica, only briefly darting to me. She was a short woman, not much taller than me, with short blonde hair tucked under a cowboy hat. She wore tight-fitting Wranglers, and black boots. Her western-style shirt was half unb.u.t.toned, revealing some of her cleavage. My eyes bulged slightly when I saw that, and quickly found the juke box in the back incredibly interesting.

"Hey, Mon." she said, her voice low and smoky.

"Hi, Lee. Thanks for meeting me." They embraced, then stepped back from each other. I moved away a couple steps, not wanting to eavesdrop. I looked around, walking out to the dance floor, and turning in a small circle. I had never been in a bar before. It wasn't so bad, granted it was closed at the time. I saw the bathrooms at the back, near the pool table. A large picture of James Dean was on the men's, and a picture of Marilyn Monroe was on the women's. Hmm. Kind of cool, I supposed. I looked past those to see more liquor signs, mostly different beers, and saw a giant upside down pink triangle on one of the mirrors. I drew my brows, and walked a little closer. I thought it a bit strange, having no clue what that was supposed to mean. Shrugging, I turned back toward the bar. Monica was sitting with the other three, talking to the bar tender, and laughing. I decided to see what the joke was.

"You guys have got to behave!" Monica was chuckling, rubbing at her eyes with her fingertips. "See, you're making me cry."

"You big baby." The blonde woman called Lee said, lightly punching her on the arm. "Always was a problem." Monica sobered slightly, and glared at her. The bar tender who had been leaning on the bar on his forearms stood, and smiled.

"Hey, kid." He said. I smiled back at him through clenched teeth. I hated it when people called me kid.

"Hi.' I said.

"This her?" the blonde asked, looking over at me, taking in my shorts and tee, then her eyes traveled down to my bare legs, and shoes before making her way back up.

"Lee." Monica warned in a low voice. I was utterly confused, and I'm sure it showed on my face. I looked from one to the other, then back to the bar tender who was trying to stifle a chuckle. I glanced at the blonde, irritated by her arrogant stance, and condescending gaze.

"I'm Emily." I said, my chin raised higher than I actually felt. The blonde looked at me with hooded brown eyes, as if she were bored. Finally after further contemplation of my legs, she swiveled her bar stool around to face me, her boot heels hooked on the bar of the stool.

"Lee." She said, tipping her hat. I felt a strange flush rush up my neck and cheeks. She was a really pretty lady, and something in that stare made me slightly uncomfortable. She looked as if she were taking in all of me with that stare, my outer as well as inner person. It was kind of eerie. Suddenly I felt a boldness flow through me that I had never felt before.

"Well, now that we have that straight, why don't you ask me if I'm her or not?" the only way her expression changed was by the slightest lift of a dark blonde brow. She grinned a bit, and nodded. The bar tender and other woman whistled quietly under their breath, and glanced over at Monica, then back at me.

"Fair enough." Lee said, then tipped her hat again, and turned back around to grab her beer, and take a drink. I took a deep, shaky breath, not sure I believed I had done that. I was not the type to confront people like Lee. I glanced at Monica to meet impressed, albeit surprised, eyes. She smiled and shook her head, turning to the others.

"We better go. It's this one's birthday today." She said proudly, standing, and putting a hand on my back. Part of me was irritated that she would tell that blonde woman that. I didn't want her to know anything about me. I didn't even like her!

"Hey, congrats, kid. Happy birthday." The bar tender said with a genuine smile. I smiled back, shyness sliding in again. Monica picked up a book off the bar that I hadn't even noticed.

"Thanks for bringing it by, Lee. It's only been nine months." Monica smiled, but just as quickly it was gone.

"Well, get everything next time." Lee said, crossing her arms over her chest, her shirt opening a bit more with the movement, which caught my eye. I blushed, and tried to look away, but caught myself sneaking a peek.

"Come on, Emily. Later, all."

With a round of good-byes, we finally left the bar. I felt refreshed as we headed out into the parking lot that was certainly much darker than it had been when we'd gone in. Tall street lights were s.p.a.ced strategically through out to rain bright, bluish light down on the cars. I took in a deep breath of fresh, summer air, and let it out with a smile. Monica turned to me with a grin.

"You look happy." She said as she unlocked the driver's side door of her Cherokee.

"I am.' I grinned back. Somehow that place had revived me, cleansed me. I knew that seemed stupid. It had only been a bar, I a.s.sumed like any other, but despite that blonde, I had felt a kinship to those people, even that strange guy, Magenta. I couldn't explain it any better to Monica than I could to myself, I knew, so I didn't tell her. "It's a great night." I said, in answer to her silent question, but only revealing half the truth. "It's my birthday, I'm headed to my last year as a teenager, and I have something wonderful to look forward to." I opened my door that she had unlocked from the inside of the Jeep, and climbed in, reaching for my seatbelt. I stared out the window, looking at the place as I saw the sign outside suddenly turn on. Campy's Bar. "I like that place." I said, turning to my friend. She raised her brows.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I want to go back some time. When they're open."

I slowly scanned the houses that lined the street, large, old houses that had graces the streets of Pueblo for nearly a century or more. I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hand to compare the address, when I saw it. The house was on the left, and stood tall, a three story Victorian. The dark green paint was accented with white shutters, and columns on the porch. I was breathless. Monica and Connie's house was truly beautiful. Two cars were parked in the narrow drive, one behind the other. I a.s.sumed both were home. I had not called to say I was coming, but instead wanted the element of surprise. I did a U-turn in the street so I could park along the front of the place, but not face the dead end that was behind me. I knew it was silly. Just my nerves getting the better of me, should I need to leave quickly. I cut the engine of the Camry, and sat for a moment, staring at the lawn that I knew was well taken care of, winter-yellow. With a deep breath, I got out of the car. Time to say h.e.l.lo to the past once more.

Monica had taken me to eat at a crazy place called Papa's Bag that had clowns running around, squirting unsuspecting guests with flower-squirt guns, or they would go up to you and honk your nose. It had been great fun, then she had taken me to see the newest Molly Ringwald movie. We had laughed, talked, and laughed some more. It had turned out to be one of the best birthdays I'd had in a long time.

I had called Jack earlier to tell him that I was going to be in late because I had had some last minute things to take care of before I left for Boulder in a month. The summer had gone so fast, and part of me didn't want to go. I almost wished I could have just stayed in Pueblo, and worked for Monica in her practice. As I drove to the office, I remembered what she had said to me when I had mentioned the thought to her.

"Emily, I'm flattered, believe me. And you have been of immense help to me. But this is not your dream, to be stuck here, working for an attorney. Your dream is to be the attorney. Don't give up on that. Ever."

I turned the wheel of my banana yellow Jeep, and pulled into the lot of the office, only to draw my brow as I saw a policemen getting into his cruiser, and heading out. I followed the black and white with my eyes until he disappeared around the corner. Nudged out of my daze by my fear, I tugged at my seatbelt, finally getting it unbuckled, and hurried to the side door of the office that would take me into the hall by Monica's office. The door was closed, so I by-pa.s.sed it and went into the lobby to ask Jack what was going on. He sat at the desk as usual, chewing on the end of a pencil.

"Jack?" I asked, walking up to his desk. He looked up at me, surprised.

"Hey." He said, tossing the yellow number two to the desk top. "Glad you're in. You should really go talk to Mon."

"What happened? I saw that police car outside. Did someone break in?" I asked, looking around to see if anything was awry. He shook his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch.

"No. Mon can explain it to you." He patted my hand that rested on the edge of the desk, and pointed to the closed office door. "Besides, I think that you're the only one who can keep us in our jobs." Confused, and worried, I hurried over to Monica's door. I knocked softly.

"Monica?" I asked, my voice low. No answer. "Monica?" I heard a very faint "Come in." so I opened the door, and closed it softly behind me. Monica sat behind her desk, her head in her hands. I walked up to the desk, looking down at her. "Monica?" I asked again, my voice low, careful.

"Hey." She said, her voice thick and wet from crying. I pulled one of the chairs up to the desk, and sat, never losing sight of her. Finally after a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, she looked up at me. Her eyes were heavy, and her face pale.

"What is it?" I whispered. "What happened?"

"Rhoda Mills is dead." She said, her voice dull. I stared at her, my stomach in knots. "I knew it, Emily. When her husband came slamming in here that day I knew I should have called the police." Fresh tears began to form in her dark eyes. My heart went out to her. I could see that she was trying to completely take the blame for what had happened.

"Oh, Monica. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing." I said, feeling totally helpless to say anything that would make her feel better. Guilt was a hard thing to levy.

"I knew he was dangerous though!" she cried. "He just walked into the house this morning, pointed his .38 at his wife and their daughter, and pumped three bullets each into them. They never had a chance." She swiped at her falling tears, frustrated that she couldn't get them to stop. I grabbed her hand that rested on the desk, and took it into my own, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort. "Why am I doing this, Emily? I don't make a difference. These people in this town are screwed. Just plain and simple, they're screwed, and no one, and nothing can help them, least of all Monica Nivens, Attorney at law. What a joke." She said bitterly.

"No, Monica. Please don't say that." I begged, fighting back my own tears at her pain, frustration and disappointment. "Just think about all the cases we've worked on these last six weeks, and," suddenly the face of Laura Martinez flashed before my eyes. "Just think of what you did for Laura Martinez!" I exclaimed, trying to hold on to anything to help her out of the funk she was in. "Her face that day in court when you waived her fees," I stopped to take a breath, "Monica, do you know how profoundly you changed that girl's life?" she looked up at me through tear-puffed eyes.

"Do you really think so?" she asked, her voice child-like with hope. I nodded enthusiastically.

"Absolutely!" I moved around her desk until I was kneeling next to her chair, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "Monica, I wanted to be a lawyer before, but after watching you, it makes me want it that much more, just so I can be like you." She looked down at me, her eyes unwavering as she let all that I had said soak in. Suddenly the sunlight burst through the clouds, and she smiled.

"Thank you, Emily. I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me." She said quietly, her hand gently coming to rest against my jaw. I nodded dumbly. My soliloquy over, I didn't know what to say. With a deep breath, the spell was broken, and she turned back to her desk. "Come on, woman. We have some cases to work on." She winked at me, and I stood, plopping down into a chair to hear what was on the menu for that day.

It was a Sat.u.r.day, and a rare occasion where we had to work, but some unpleasant surprises had come up on our latest case, and had to be dealt with p.r.o.nto. I had spent the night at Monica's the night before, crashing in her spare bedroom after going over new depositions, and trying to find holes in the defense's case. I sat on the floor, my head resting against my hand as I poured over the file that rested on the coffee table. I was going cross-eyed, and wanted to fall asleep again.

"Monica?" I called out, never breaking a sentence on the file with my eyes, "Did you fall in, or what?" I heard the toilet flush further into the house, and turned the page to start on the backside when I felt something wet dribble on my head. "What the" I looked up at the ceiling, no leaks. It hadn't even rained lately. I went back to the file when I felt it again. I turned around to get hit smack in the face with a thin stream of water, and a laughing lawyer. "You!" I stood, putting my hands in front of my face to protect myself from the onslaught of the squirt gun. Monica screamed with joy as she completely soaked me. She put the emptied gun down, and grinned, looking at my T-shirt that stuck to me like a second skin, and bangs that hung in my eyes. I stared back, my hands on my hips. "You think this is pretty funny, don't you?" I asked. She nodded.

"Uh huh." She screamed again and took off running through the small house, me on her heels, and into the backyard. I immediately went for the hose, turning on the faucet as fast as I could, and then chasing her around, trying to spray around potted plants, trees, and even the house. She disappeared around a corner, and the hose would not reach that far, so I decided to take up camp. I could wait. Patience is a virtue, after all. I grinned to myself as I thought of just how wet she actually was. Her white polo was virtually see-through, and her cotton shorts hung on her frame, her hair pasted to her scull. Teach her to try and sneak up on me- "Huh!" with that thought I gasped as I felt ice cold water pour over my head, into my eyes, and down my shirt, getting me even wetter than I already was. I closed my eyes as my body adjusted to the cold water and the heat of the day. When I was finally able to lower my hunched shoulders, I turned to see a grinning Monica holding a water cooler at her side. "You are evil." I breathed. She nodded.

"Yup."

"Went around the fence?"

"Yup." I nodded, then got my bearings back, and brought up the hose, and pressed the nozzle on the sprayer, and giggled as she screamed, and tried to protect herself from the barrage of water. She began to advance on me blindly, spitting water out of her mouth, her eyes tightly closed, peeking one open now and then, until she reached me, and we began to struggle with the hose for dominance. We were laughing and screaming like school girls, but it was just too funny.

"Noo!" I yelped as she began to take control, nearly getting the hose out of my hands. She laughed evilly.

"Ha ha!" she managed to wrestle the hose from out of my hands, and I took a step back, my foot getting caught in the hose, and down I went, pulling her down with me. We hit hard, me on the gra.s.s, her on me, leaving me breathless.

"Ow." I giggled opening my eyes to look up at her. She was giggling, too. She put her hands down on the gra.s.s on either side of me, having tossed the hose aside, and pushed herself up a bit, but then stopped as she stared down at me. I looked up at her, laughing as I got my breath back, only to lose it again as I stared into her eyes. Her grin slowly faded from her face as she continued to stare. I didn't know what to do, only that I wasn't so sure I wanted her to get up, so I just laid there, my arms out to my sides. I could feel Monica's warm breath on my face, as she seemed to get closer to me, spreading that warmth to other areas, her eyes lowering, staring at my open mouth. Then as suddenly as it had happened, she blinked, and pushed herself off me, reaching a hand down to help me up.

"You okay?" she asked, looking at the hose, gathering it up, and taking it over to the sidewalk by the house.