Page 2 of King of Justice

The first face that met my eyes was Nathan Wright’s as he sat in the opposite end of the room facing me. His perfect lips smiled as his calm blue eyes greeted me, while his hand rested on the table. I didn’t know why my eyes lingered on his fingernails as I walked inside.

“Mr. Wright, this is Sophie Jones, our writer.” Mr. Nichols introduced me. “Thanks to her, we have the case summed up chronologically and in clear-cut terms.”

“Hello.” I nodded and sat between them, separated from Wright by a vacant chair.

“Mr. Wright has agreed to take on the McFadden case,” my boss explained.

I turned to Wright, smiling. “That’s great. Ryan will be psyched to hear about this.”

“I’ve briefed him, but I’d like you two to go over the details in the file you have.” Mr. Nichols stood up, buttoning his blazer and shaking hands with our guest. “I’m forced to go… catch a meeting in Garrison. Would you please lock up for me?”

“Sure.” I quickly nodded.

“Well.” He held open the door. “Merry Christmas.”

As we both politely responded, I didn’t hear my own voice. Instead, Nathan Wright’s invaded my ears. It was steady and soothing, just like his eyes. Strange. I wondered if he sounded this cool in a courtroom, or if that was what helped him win every single one of them.

Mr. Nichols closed the door behind him, and I stood up, leaning over to plug my laptop into the projector. I felt his eyes on me, burning deliberate holes in every inch of my side as I faced great difficulty in focusing on the simple task. Was he evaluating the vintage dress I’d bought from Rue de Rivoli many years ago? It wasn’t a fancy Italian brand like his suit, and perhaps he wondered how much it cost. I wanted to say, ‘Four euros,’ but instead, I offered without looking, “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Do you need help with that?”

“I’m good,” I sternly said, and the screen was finally mirrored on the white wall across. Sitting back down, I took a deep, silent breath. “So, two years ago, Ryan McFadden shared his original demo with Jacob Buzz of Pinocchio Records, with hopes of brokering a deal…”

I talked and talked… and he nodded, listened, and barely had any questions at all.

Formally and professionally, we ended our meeting with me sharing my documents with him via email.

As I stood up and unplugged the devices, I waited for him to stand. “So, um… any questions?” I asked, hoping he would get the message that he should leave already.

His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on something on his phone, then mindlessly shook his head. “Thanks. You did great. Uh—I just… really have to get this.”

“Of course.” What was he thinking? Didn’t he know a storm was headed our way?

Leaving him alone, I closed the door behind me and froze in place at the sight that shocked my eyes. The entire floor was a lot darker than it had been when I had left it an hour ago. Through the window, I could see the outside world, nearly black as rain and hail hit the glass with noise that wasn’t reaching us inside.

“Oh, shit!” I breathed as I ran to my desk, opening my laptop and launching the website with the flight information.

Canceled.

Delayed.

Delayed.

Canceled.

And mine... Canceled.

“Fuck!” Allowing gravity to take hold, I let my ass smack down on the chair. I then quickly grabbed my phone. There was still service, so I launched the family group chat and started typing…

Allô! I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the storm has started earlier than it should have! Je suis vraiment désolé, but my flight was canceled, you guys.

I followed with a broken heart emoji.

Merde! My brother Silvain replied. Maybe you can find another one later?

Yeah, that’s the plan. I’ll keep you posted. But if you can’t reach me in the coming hours, don’t worry. Signals die around here sometimes, you know.

Just be careful, d'accord?

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