Page 83 of The Seven Rings
Owen sent Trey a long, long look. Trey just shook his head.
“No, we’re not heading down to Boston so you can hold my metaphorical coat while I kick his ass. Punches only hurt so long. My way’s going to hurt deeper and longer.”
“Why not both?”
“Counteracts the deeper, longer pain if we’re arrested for assault.”
“And here I sit agreeing with both of you. My gut wants that ass-kicking, Owen,” Winter said. “But my brain has to agree with Trey. I’d like a copy of the cease and desist if that’s okay. And don’t worry, I honestly don’t see him coming here. But if he does, he won’t get in, and I’ll call the police. I think being arrested and charged will shock him enough to make him stay away.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Then I’m more than ready to put all things Brandon Wise in a bag, tie an anchor to it, and toss it overboard.”
“I like the visual. Now, you all go eat your pizza. I think I’m going to order one myself.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, baby. And that goes for everyone else. We’ll talk again soon.”
When Sonya signed off, she breathed out. “She’s upset and angry, but she handled it well. She always does.”
“Seems like you take after her there. And one more thing,” Owen continued, “before you tie that anchor? If you ever change your mind about that ass-kicking, I’m available.”
“I’ll keep that offer in reserve. Now? Anchor tied, bag tossed. Splash! Let’s have some pizza.”
PART TWOConversations
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things.”
—Lewis Carroll
Chapter Eleven
It didn’t take long. Within a week, Brandon was arrested, charged, and transported to Maine. Trey sat in the courtroom as an observer, noted that the defendant had the wit to hire a local attorney, and had dressed in a suit that made him look like Mr. Clean-Cut and Successful.
The defense claimed the entire matter was a misunderstanding, a simple tiff between two people who had, mutually, ended a relationship.
The prosecution came out strongly in opposition. As Trey expected—as they took trespass seriously in Maine—the judge didn’t buy the misunderstanding.
Trey watched, with quiet satisfaction, as Brandon shifted, even squirmed some, during the legal back-and-forth. Then found himself amused every time Brandon scribbled something on a legal pad, pushed it at his lawyer.
Scared, aren’t you? Trey thought. And still think you know better than your own lawyer.
The judge granted bail, and granted the defendant permission to return to Boston until trial. But that was all the slack he ruled.
“This is ridiculous!”
At Brandon’s outburst, Trey settled back with a very satisfied smile. He’d expected no less.
He watched Brandon turn to argue with his lawyer, and thought: Fear, more fear. He caught waves of it now.
“I’m not going to jail. Do you get that? That lying bitch attacked me!”
“Mr. Wise, you need to stay calm.”
Trey saw the judge, who’d overheard the outburst as he had, raise his eyebrows. “Mr. Wise, calling the complainant names, particularly in my courtroom, won’t help your defense. Counselor, please control your client.”
