Point of View: Narrator
It was 1:45 AM and Nick was still awake, thinking about the day he'd spent with Zoe. He was on top of the blankets on his bed, rather than under them, and staring at the sliver of moon that he could see through the dusty old window. Instead of thinking how shitty life was because of his position, though, he was thinking he was lucky he could even see the little bit of moon he could see.
Just like he was lucky he had Zoe.
It had occurred to Nick at some point during the long process of thinking that the reason Zoe meant so much to him was exactly the reason why she had said that he meant so much to her. She loved him like a son.
Nick's childhood had been shit, to say the least. He didn't like thinking about it or talking about it, and he'd struggled to forgive and let go to the best of his ability. He had managed to take the high road, to suppress his overwhelming desire to run like fuck and never look back... he'd managed to keep both his parents in his life, despite the horrible things he'd been through with them.
But just because he had a mother and a father didn't mean he had a mom and dad.
It was just nice, he realized, feeling like someone had that kind of unconditional love for him.
Across the small town the prison was in, Zoe was staying in a hotel room and was laying in bed, absently watching TV. The flickering light was making her drowsy. She was nodding in and out of consciousness, the remote laying across her chest when a thought occurred to her that made her feel cold inside.
She stared up at the ceiling… wondering, pondering… turning impossible threads over and over in her mind.
Pushing the thoughts away, she thought about how wonderful Nick had looked when she was finished with helping him clean up. She pictured that crisp charcoal suit on him as he walked into the court room and her heart rate rose in anticipation… and the next moment, Zoe was asleep, dreaming of proceedings.
In Los Angeles, Kevin was up, sitting at Brian’s dining room table, swimming in newspaper clippings, photo copies of evidence and test results and all kinds of stuff. Across from him sat Dirk Bentley, who wore thin framed glasses and a puzzled expression as he dug through the material with Kevin.
“Look at this,” Dirk said, holding up a newspaper clipping.
Kevin took the paper and his eyes scanned the article. It was an article about a show that Krystal Armaletto had done in Santa Fe the weekend before she’d gone to visit Nick on the tour. It wasn’t anything special, just a typical review of a concert.
“What about it?” Kevin asked.
“Look at the picture,” Dirk said, pointing.
Kevin squinted at the black and white image. It was Krystal in a skin-tight skin-colored body suit, covered with diamonds and rubies, similar to Britney Spears’ costume in the Toxic video, but with more stones in more suggestive patterns. Kevin shook his head, looking up, “What about it?”
Dirk reached over and ran a finger along Krystal’s arm, where the body suit’s sleeve had ridden up ever so slightly. The slightly three-dimensional form of an ace bandage wrapped around her forearm was suddenly screamingly obvious to Kevin. He blinked up at Dirk, “You think?” he asked.
“Well, it’s evidence of self-inflicted injury,” Dirk said, “I mean it doesn’t necessarily mean that’s what it was, it could’ve been anything, but it’s something that could mean that.”
Kevin stared down at the picture. “Nick did that once. Well, once that we knew of,” he muttered.
Dirk looked up at Kevin as his eyes grew sad. “Why?” he asked.
Kevin shrugged. “He never told us.”
Dirk stared at the picture and finally dropped the paper into the pile of evidence. “Well, every little bit helps,” he said, gently easing the subject away from Nick.
“That it does,” Kevin agreed, snapping back to reality from the memory he’d suddenly found himself floundering in. He cleared his throat and reached for a pile of phone logs from Desi’s cell phone.
Leighanne suddenly wandered into the dining room, wearing a robe that she was holding closed, her hair messy. Kevin cleared his throat a second time, this time to get her attention rather than to clear away the thick, raw feeling, and Leighanne looked up. She blushed when she realized Kevin wasn’t there alone, her cheeks turning scarlet. Kevin motioned to Dirk, “Leighanne, this is Dirk Bentley, Nick’s new lawyer and my friend from college.”
“I’d shake your hand but…” Leighanne smiled, then looked at Kevin, “A little warning would’ve been nice,” she chided him in a friendly, yet stern manner. She turned and headed for the kitchen.
“Nice to meet you Mrs. Littrell,” called Dirk, laughingly.
A moment later, Brian came bounding down the steps in his boxers and one sock, his hair also messy, and an unearthly glow radiating off him. He frolicked right through the dining room without even seeing Kevin or Dirk.
Dirk raised an eyebrow.
Kevin laughed, “They’re like rabbits.”
“Got it.”
The two turned back to the evidence.
In the kitchen, Leighanne pulled out the carton of eggs and milk and some cheese. Brian had suddenly had a dire need for scrambled eggs. He was sitting on the counter beside the sink in his boxers and one sock and kicking his feet like he was fine years old, watching Leighanne as she mixed together the ingredients for scrambled eggs in her robe. Brian smirked, “You’re pretty,” he said in a childish tone.
Leighanne laughed, “You’re biased,” she answered in the same tone.
“I love you,” Brian continued in that tone also.
“And I love you,” Leighanne agreed.
Brian smirked, “Baby, screw the eggs, I want youuuu,” he whispered, getting right up behind her.
Leighanne laughed, “Okay first of all, I’m exhausted, so no. Second of all, where are you getting all this horny-man-hormone lately?” Brian laughed against her neck, where his mouth was pressed against her skin. She pushed him back, “And thirdly, your cousin and your best friend’s lawyer are less then ten feet away and –“ she waved as Dirk looked up from the dining room table and into the open kitchen, “—they say hello.”
Brian turned around as Dirk nudged Kevin.
Kevin turned. “Oh get a room,” he groaned.
Brian turned red and waved, “Hallo.” He looked at Leighanne, and sighed, then, as she turned back to the eggs, Brian headed into the dining room. He looked down at the table. “What’s up?”
“Collecting evidence to present at Nick’s trial,” Kevin responded.
Brian smiled, “Yeah?”
Dirk nodded, “Not much to be found so far…” he muttered.
“What if we had the cell phone recording back?” Brian asked.
Kevin looked up at him, catching the hint in his tone.
“That would be brilliant,” Dirk mumbled as he read over an article, only half responding to Brian.
Kevin caught on before Dirk did. “Where in God’s green earth did you find it?” he demanded.
Dirk’s head snapped up, full attention on Brian as he smirked… and produced the cell phone, which he’d grabbed off the kitchen counter on his way into the dining room. He placed it into the center of the table.
“Jesus.” Kevin muttered.
Dirk laughed, “Awesome.”
“How many of you boys want eggs?” Leighanne asked, leaning out of the kitchen doorway.
“I think we’re all game for some celebratory eggs,” Brian laughed.
