“God, no! I was only fourteen. But one of the older girls—Suzy Flynn—she had to do the bathtub scene where the killer looked in the window, and she ran out with a towel the size of a washcloth. I remember her saying the director made her shoot that scene about twenty times. Such a creep.”
“Misogynistic pervert.” Theo couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that, or she’d get fired up and want to file suit against the film industry too. There was enough on her plate already. “That’s a truly fascinating story. So how did you get from Little CeCe to Dr. Perone?”
“After my mom got rid of Kyle, we finally had royalties coming in from international, and it was enough to get me through college after she died. It was crazy to stay in the business, but I guess I had Stockholm Syndrome. I went to UCLA and ended up going for my PhD in performance studies. That’s what I knew. I was addicted to it.”
“You don’t have to explain that part to me. Everyone should follow their bliss. I was the same way about law school. What I don’t get is, if you had the showbiz bug, why’d you leave California for a place like Atlanta?”
Celia drank the last of her wine. “I’ll need another drink to tell you that story.”
“Sounds like a plan. Is the food here any good?”
* * *
“…and in the last year of my PhD, I got involved with Gina Worley. You might recognize that name. She was the assistant coach for the women’s basketball team at UCLA, but then Harwood hired her away. Her first head coaching job. She got me an interview here that year. In fact, I got hired as part of her deal…one of those spousal placements, since we were living as domestic partners. It was a plum job for somebody right out of a doctoral program. I wasn’t all that crazy about living in Georgia, but Harwood’s the kind of place you can get used to in a hurry. Everything’s first class.”
Theo shook her head in an exaggerated double-take. “Excuse me, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Little CeCe was a lesbian. No wonder I liked that show so much.”
Celia laughed with delight. From the moment she’d revealed her childhood identity, their conversation had shifted from business to personal. “How do you think she got all those girls to go along with her?”
“Wait! What if I wasn’t even gay before that? What if you made me this way?”
“I’ve been known to have that effect on women,” Celia said almost flirtatiously, doing her best not to crack a smile.
If anyone could make a straight woman jump the fence, it would be Theo Constantine. Perfect white teeth that lit up her whole face when she smiled. Hypnotic blue eyes. Thick blond hair with dark streaks underneath…perfect for gripping during sex.
The second glass of wine had gone to her head, Celia realized with panic, and her meal hadn’t yet smoothed its effects. It was a miracle she hadn’t blurted out her thoughts.
“So what happened with you and the coach? Did you get benched?”
“Other way around. She got canned a couple of years ago. Took the Harwood women to three Sweet Sixteens and a Final Four. Then she hit a wall and had six losing seasons in a row. Now she’s coaching at some little state college in Ohio. No thanks, not moving to Ohio.” The way she said it made it sound worse than it was. Neither she nor Gina had been particularly sorry when their relationship ended. “We were already more miss than hit by that time. In fact, she tried to blame me for her last three losing seasons. Said I didn’t support her enough, that she was distracted by her home life. Could have been true, I guess. Once she started losing, she wasn’t a whole lot of fun to be around. I started working with the community theater so I wouldn’t have to come home at the end of the day. Sorry if that makes me a bad person.”
“Those things happen. Sometimes people grow apart.”
Celia had gone online and read dozens of profiles of Theo—and yet none of them had gone into great detail about her private life. Beyond her confirmation she was a lesbian, she’d given nothing away. Was there a partner lurking in the shadows? Children? She’d told
The Advocate
she thought it best to keep those close to her in the shadows, given the controversy that followed her.
“That’s enough about me. I looked you up on Wikipedia. I want to know how you got rid of your Jersey accent without picking up a Georgia drawl. That’s one of the toughest things to teach theater students.”
“South Jersey’s more of a Philly accent, not so noticeable. What I had, they neutralized my first year at Barnard. They’re big on diction.”
“Barnard…and then Columbia Law. That’s right, I read all about you,” she confessed. “What I don’t get is why you’d pick a place like Atlanta after so many years in New York. You’re hiding your talents down here.”
Theo grinned and pushed her empty plate aside. She looked completely relaxed now, having removed her suit jacket and tucked her scarf into the pocket. The sleeves of her white silk blouse were rolled to her elbows, revealing an expensive gold watch and delicate chain bracelet. Not a ring in sight. “Hiding my talents, huh?”
That was more of her wine talking, Celia realized, trying to be complimentary without coming right out and gushing over what a rock star Theo was in the legal world. “New York’s the biggest stage on the planet. You just don’t strike me as someone who’d be at home down here in the Deep South.”
“Fair enough. Turns out I ended up here the same way you did—I followed a woman. We met at Barnard, and when I was finishing up at Columbia, she got a job teaching philosophy at Spelman. Shonnie Thurman’s her name.” She said it with unmistakable affection. “We moved down here together and I hung out my shingle. I like Atlanta. The pace is a little slower than in Manhattan, but it’s got its own sophistication. Besides, there’s Harwood, Emory, John Marshall, Georgia State…it’s a good pipeline for young, smart attorneys.”
“Spelman.” Celia had worked on a community theater presentation of
Showboat
with several members of their drama department, all of whom were African-American. “So you’ve been together for…”
“Oh, we’re not together now. What you said about New York, about it being a bigger stage…you’re right. But it’s more than that. It’s a whole different culture there. Cosmopolitan. Shonnie and I fit together well in the city, but not so much here in Atlanta. She found a better kinship at Spelman…closer to her cultural roots.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Though it made no sense at all someone would throw over Theo. “So you got your heart broken.”
Theo shrugged. “It worked out for the best. She has a wife now. I went to their wedding last year. We’re still friends…not as close as I thought we’d be though. We’re different people now.”
So where did that leave Theo? Most likely on the receiving end of women throwing themselves at her. She was rich, successful and gorgeous. And fortunately for Celia, the effects of her wine had faded, enabling her to think that without saying it aloud.
Instead she managed something more benign. “And now you’re married to your job, I bet. Just like me.”
“Feels that way sometimes. Good thing I love what I do. Do you?”
“Most of the time. I’d like to be teaching TV classes instead of theater…and seniors instead of freshmen. But it’s fun seeing students get excited about the performance arts. Kids like Hayley and Michael. Hayley had real talent…maybe even too much of it for her own good.” A shudder ran through her as she recalled their last conversation. “She told her sorority sisters what happened to her. Apparently some of them thought she was just being dramatic, that it wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. Ironic, huh? You’re so good at something that it kills you.”
Theo’s smile faded, and Celia realized hers had too. Here she’d sat chatting up a woman who piqued her sexual interest when the whole reason they’d met in the first place was a girl who’d killed herself after being raped.
* * *
After a full glass of wine, Theo had been careful to watch the clock—an hour since her last sip. It wouldn’t do for someone of her notoriety to get pulled over for DUI. The press would eat it up.
“Where are you parked?” she asked as they stepped onto the sidewalk. In the last few days, the humidity had crept upward, reminding everyone in the city that summer was on its way.
“At the MARTA station in Dunwoody. You couldn’t pay me to drive in this city.”
That meant they were heading in opposite directions, unless… “I can give you a ride to your car if you like. I’m in the garage around the corner.”
“Thanks, but it’s probably easier on both of us if I take the Red Line. Pretty hard to beat a sixteen-minute ride.”
“Very true.” To say nothing of the fact that it probably wasn’t a good idea to feed her attraction to someone who was practically her client. She hadn’t been drawn to a woman so quickly since the first time she met Shonnie. Something compelled her to say so. “I don’t mean to be crass about this…considering we met because of Hayley’s assault, that is. I’ve enjoyed talking to you, hearing your story. It blows me away that I watched you on TV when I was a kid. Maybe one of these days…if our circumstances are different, I wouldn’t mind seeing more of you.”
Celia stopped abruptly. Eyebrows up, mouth agape. She was Little CeCe all over again.
“Geez, that sounded pretty arrogant, didn’t it?” Though she hadn’t expected Celia to be shocked.
“And we can’t see each other now because…?”
So it wasn’t shock after all, though it left Theo with what felt like a sterile explanation. “Because of your involvement in this case. It would be way too easy for me to forget how important you are as a witness. If we file this suit, I need to focus on my legal obligations to Hayley.” As difficult as that might be. It was critical she keep her objectivity about Celia’s credibility and potential effectiveness, and not let herself be swayed by personal feelings that had nothing to do with the case.
“
If
we file this suit? I thought you’d decided.”
“I meant when.”
That was the sum of Celia’s response—a deflection to the case. Nothing to suggest she was interested in seeing more of Theo outside of their work, or even flattered by the idea.
“I assume you’ll hold one of your famous press conferences.”
“Damn right. You’d be surprised how many people decide to settle the minute they see me on the news.”
“Doesn’t surprise me at all. I saw the one you did last week for Loretta Collingwood.”
“That was fun.” And effective—they’d been called back to DC the next day to meet with the senator’s attorneys and expected a very generous divorce settlement. “We’ll definitely launch Hayley’s case with a bang. The more noise we make, the more likely someone will step in and prosecute.”
Given the difficulty of proving wrongful death by suicide, it was quite possible their only victories might come from public outrage. She had to hope it would be enough to upset the status quo at Harwood.
“So when will you file?” With every question or comment, Celia was making clear her intent to keep their relationship professional.
“Not for a while, I’m afraid. We have a lot of work to do first. Securing the best plaintiff, making sure we’ve identified all the defendants, lining up witnesses and evidence. But I promise to keep you posted on the benchmarks.”
“Thank you…for everything.” Celia’s girlish smile appeared again. “You can’t possibly know how much I appreciate you taking this case. You’re just…just a hero in so many ways.”
A hero
. Not exactly an invitation for something personal, but at least it was a compliment. “Have a safe ride home. Let me know about Michael and his basketball player friend. But remember what I said—no emails, no texts.”
“Got it.” She made a phone gesture with her thumb and pinky as she turned and walked away.
Theo found herself dazed. When had she started wanting to kiss her witnesses goodnight?
In the passenger seat of Hank’s ancient Chevy Suburban, Theo scanned the first draft of their complaint, which at this point contained a brief outline of events, the state jurisdiction, and an exhaustive list of named defendants, from the young men involved in the rape all the way to Harwood’s board of trustees. Hank also had identified the two officers who took the original complaint at the student health center and the head of campus police.
She turned to Jalinda, who had raked all the garbage in the backseat to one side so she’d have a clean place to sit. “Did you bring an extra copy of this? We’ll probably need to leave one they can put in Belinda’s file.”
“Right here.” Jalinda patted her rolling briefcase, which was stuffed with all the documentation they’d gathered so far.
Theo had planned to spend the day reading the latest round of wage theft briefs from Kendra and her team. Instead, they were riding to Macon to meet with Belinda Burkhart’s custodian, whoever that turned out to be. Until they secured cooperation from Haley’s family, they had no plaintiff—and therefore no case.
As a boutique firm with limited resources, Constantine and Associates rarely waged more than two or three major cases at the same time, though she frequently jumped into the fray when a high-profile client called. It kept her services top of mind and made the phones ring—to say nothing of the fact that famous clients usually found themselves involved in seven- or eight-figure disputes that paid hefty fees.
A semi-truck roared by on the left, causing their vehicle to waver.
“Jesus, Hank! You drive slower than my grandmother. Does this bucket of bolts even have an accelerator?”
He cast an indignant look from the driver’s seat. “Don’t complain. It’s paid for.”
For what she’d paid him last year in bonuses alone, he could have bought a brand new one for cash. At his core, he was still a crusty gumshoe.
“What did you learn about Belinda Burkhart?” she asked.
“Social services wouldn’t tell me squat, but they gave me a number for her uncle. That’s the grandmother’s brother, a guy by the name of Donald Lipscomb. I talked to him on the phone last night. Sixty-six, divorced. He used to be a developer of some sort…strip malls, I think. Nothing major. And not all that successful either. Two personal bankruptcies and a lien on his house. He paid all his debts off about four years ago with some cash his sister left him and retired. Lives in Atlanta out by the airport.”