Page 15 of Shameful Addictions

“I’m going to stop you right there, Miss Aria. I know what you want and I’m not going to represent you.”

“What?” Surely she hadn’t heard right. “I haven’t even said anything. I can pay you. I can pay double.”

“No amount of money in the world is worth going up against that man. He would eat me alive. And he is going to eat you alive, Miss Aria.” The lawyer suddenly spoke softer, gentler. “I don’t know what your motivation was for this. I’m not heartless, but I have to protect myself. I doubt anyone in or out of this city will go up against him. You’d be much better off saving yourself the time and effort and just accepting a public defender right now. I can forward you to one.”

“But…”

“You won’t win this case. In my professional opinion, you want to use this time formulating a plan of how to minimize the damage he’s going to inflict upon you.”

Charlotte repeated, voice breaking, “I can pay double.”

“No.” Fredericks suddenly began to recite a series of digits. A phone number. “Did you get that? That’s the number you’ll call. If you ask for them to represent you, the courts have to allow it. I’m sorry. My daughter used to watch your videos. She made me watch that last one with her. I appreciate what you tried to do, but for my own safety, I can’t have any part in it. Good luck.”

“Triple!” Charlotte cried, breaking, but she was speaking to no one. The lawyer had hung up on her.

Charlotte pushed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, shaking. She hadn’t anticipated this. She should have. She’d just thought that because all traces of her had been removed from online, no one would know yet. Mamba had been several steps ahead of her on that. He’d no doubt reached out to every high-profile lawyer and given them reason not to represent her.

But there had to be someone, didn’t there? He couldn’t have reached out to every single lawyer in the city.

He must have connections I don’t even know about, though. He wiped me off the face of the planet. I’m insane to think that he isn’t capable of contacting every lawyer out there.

She had to try.

She spent the rest of that day calling number after number. As the day wore on, secretaries started turning her away, or she had her calls outright ignored. Word was spreading. It was too late. She kept trying though, long after offices had closed for the day, making pleas to emotionless voicemail recordings. She slept only when exhaustion claimed her sometime after midnight.

The first pale gray fingers of dawn pushing through the slats of her blinds woke her. She got straight back to work with calling lawyers and attorneys, though now no one was answering her calls at all.

She had been blacklisted.

Hunger drove her to break away around noon. She went into the kitchen to grab some crackers and peanut butter and was making herself a plate when another knocking came at her door. Charlotte jumped, and dropped her plate. Porcelain shards flew all over the kitchen floor and peanut butter crackers went skidding underneath counters and the stove.

“Damnit,” she said, and stepped over the mess. Something sharp jabbed at her heel, showing that she hadn’t been entirely successful in her attempt. She ignored the pain and limped the rest of the way to the door.

Just as she arrived, the knocking ceased.

Charlotte hesitated, then threw the door open. No one stood there, though when she craned her head around to look, she noticed a letter had been left on the carpet. She picked it up and read it while standing in the doorway, leaning heavily on the frame.

It was a reminder of the summons, and a warning. She needed to contact the court with her lawyer by 6 p.m. tomorrow, or else she would be given the most available public defender automatically.

She went back into her apartment and sat on her couch, letting the mess sit in the kitchen. She was so ruined, so done for. Nothing could possibly help her now.

You have no choice. Call that number Lila Fredericks gave you.

Charlotte put her hand over her mouth and let out a soft, bitter little laugh. She went to clean up her mess in the kitchen and noticed little splotches of blood, a trail where she had stepped on a shard of plate and cut herself. She knew that would likely not be the only injury she sustained for this.

After she tossed the bloody, peanut buttery broken plate in the garbage, she went to make what she hoped–and dreaded–would be her final call.

A brisk, masculine speaker answered. “I hoped I’d hear from you.”

“Is this…” Damn, she didn’t even know their name.

“Link Parskey. Lila told me you might reach out, Charlotte. There’s not much time to waste here. We need to meet.”

This wasn’t what she had expected. “Shouldn’t we talk first? More than this, I mean?”

“No. I don’t trust the phone, not when I know who you’re going up against. Who we are going up against. Come to my office. 1454 North Boulevard. Come alone and come fast.” Link hung up the phone before she could even say anything.

Charlotte knew she had no choice except to do as he asked. She got dressed and left her apartment building.

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