Authors: Verona Vale
After Andrea had shown out the opposition, Sterling had called her into his office. I didn’t stick around to listen to the gory details, but I knew she wouldn’t be setting foot in Sterling House after this.
When all the paperwork was finished, I found myself glancing at my phone, wondering if somehow things could have worked out with Nick. But that was me making the same mistake as Sterling—doubting myself when all of the evidence pointed in a clear direction. Nick believed our needs were too different, and perhaps his belief made it so. It was a sad end to our second try, what had ended up being a one-night stand without any of the simplicity of being strangers. It would be a painful episode to look back on, and we might not be able to retain our friendship. I sat on the side of the bed and let that thought linger a little. The most I could get out of it was that maybe I could start a new chapter in my life full steam ahead. I didn’t take much comfort in that, as much as I might have wished to.
I expected not to sleep well in the face of such a big day tomorrow, but the flight from the night before caught up with me and I dropped like an olive into a martini and was out.
The courtroom
on the mainland was tense and full of reporters in the back, all of whom would be sorry to leave without the story they were hoping for. I was confident of that. There were a lot of hearings on the agenda today, so the place was crowded, but I knew the reporters were here for Sterling’s case alone.
Since the court was back on the mainland, I’d had to talk to Sterling this morning about whether he’d need anything more from me after the verdict. We’d kept it businesslike, and he’d said no, but that if we won, I was welcome to return to the resort for as long I’d like to vacation there, and he’d consider it a perk of doing business with him. Because we hadn’t technically won yet, I told him that sounded nice. It was an awkward moment, neither of us acknowledging the obvious elephant in the room. Things had changed between us, but I felt like we had gotten through the rough patch. Maybe, once this was finally settled, we could say whatever it was we wanted to say.
The judge came out, worked through a few minor claims, and then called me and the plaintiff’s counsel forward. One of the reasons Sterling had decided not to come to court in person was to further reinforce the message that this wasn’t worth his time.
I came forward to the microphone. “I represent Mr. Sterling, your honor.”
The judge waited for the plaintiff’s lawyer to join me.
The Asian woman from the meetings came forward. She read off an extremely long statement full of circuitous language and puffery, then listed off a long enumeration of the damages ostensibly done to the plaintiffs, finishing up with some harsh language about the irresponsibility of Sterling’s company. It might have convinced a judge who had no familiarity with contract law, and it might have won over a sympathetic jury who didn’t care to understand the details, but to me it was no better than rattling off a grocery list: they had no ace in the hole. This had been a money-grab they thought they could win, perhaps because they had an inside ally. Legally, they were sunk.
The judge listened lethargically, then turned to me. “And what is Mr. Sterling’s response to these charges?”
I read out my own statement, which quoted so many relevant clauses from the contract that even if three-quarters of them had been dubious, the remaining quarter would still have been damning on their own. “Simply put,” I finished, “the plaintiff’s claims are not only devoid of all legal weight, they are in fact completely paradoxical given the contractual specifications I’ve just listed. This is a matter of someone not liking the conditions they’ve already agreed to, and it’s already been a profound waste of public time and funds to hear this case at all.”
The judge nodded. “I rather agree. Case dismissed.”
I smiled. “Thank you, your honor.” I put away my statement and turned to the opposition. “Was Andrea supposed to be your ace in the hole? Judge Wilson certainly wasn’t.”
The woman looked at me. “Doubt is more powerful than you realize. It brings the strong to weakness.”
“I realize exactly how powerful doubt is,” I said. “But it’s not as powerful as me.”
I left the courtroom and called Sterling to tell him the news. He was ecstatic, thanked me profusely, then said, “So are you coming back to the island? I remember I promised you a trip to space as well, though that may be longer in coming. But I hope you’ll take advantage of everything I’ve offered.”
That tone was all I needed to know what he was thinking. “That depends on which room I get to stay in.”
“Any room you want.”
“Really,” I said, with all the double-meaning I could squeeze into it. “Any room?”
“Any at all.”
I grinned. “I’ll be on the next flight.”
~
He met me right at the plane this time, and as soon as I was out the doorway we were in each other’s arms. His big hands were warmer and gentler than ever, and juxtaposed with the clear-headed strength he’d shown yesterday, their softness was all the more powerful. We looked at each other’s faces, smiling, no longer stymied by some undercurrent of stress, instead simply open, happy, free. He leaned in, and his lips on mine were strong, seeking, asking, and I let them take.
“How long are you staying?” he finally said, his mouth on my neck and my ear.
I ran my hands up his solid back and dug myself into him. “I might never leave.”
“How can I get rid of that ‘might’?”
“You’re doing okay so far.”
“I’ll do even better,” he said, and he picked me up so quickly I had to laugh, feeling uprooted and nervous inside and yet completely trusting him. He carried me up toward the house, and I didn’t know quite what to expect inside, but I had a feeling Victor hadn’t even begun to show me all that he was intent to offer. As he climbed the grass, I held onto his shoulders and caught a glimpse of the ocean in the distance under the afternoon sky, its wide blue reaching out beyond forever and hiding within itself so much mystery. Yet down at the beach, the waters rolled in clear, letting the sunlight swing across the sand beneath them, everything bright and visible and certain. Since I first came to the island, things had grown ever clearer, and I let Victor carry me wherever he liked, like he was a wave and I was floating on him.
His bedroom, I’m sure, was the most lavishly ornate thing imaginable, but by that time I had closed my eyes, leaned my head into his chest, and forgotten everything in the world but his strong body around me. My eyes stayed closed as he laid me on the mattress, kissed my neck, and began to undress me. Nothing in the world could have broken the freedom of that moment, of completely letting go of all control and letting him please me. I had told the opposition lawyer that I was powerful, but what I hadn’t said is that power can be exhausting. While Victor’s hands massaged my body and his mouth kissed mine, I gladly let go the baton of control and let him express the hugeness of strength and heart that all along I’d known was in him. I had been strong when he needed to be weak, and now he was returning the favor. I let myself evaporate into his firmness and muscle, his strong fullness, let myself be filled by it, and let myself become that ocean of clarity, that cloudless sky, that endless, beautiful shoreline of waves ever-crashing, ever-receding, ever-merging the landscape of rock and water into one.
The End
About the Author
Verona Vale has been writing fiction for over ten years, and holds a Master of Fine Arts in the craft of fiction. This is her first published novel. You can follow her online at
www.veronavale.com
.