Page 1 of Narrow Margins

“Not Guilty.”

Really? That’s it? I mean, shit, yeah; I’m a free man. But, no “sorry for your lack of job” or “sorry for all the friends you’ve lost.” No “sorry for the lies spread throughout the tabloids and trashy magazines and sorry for all the hate mail.”

No: “not guilty. You are free to leave.”

Standing in the courtroom, my lawyer has his hand on my shoulder to steady me.

My eyes fix on Shannon Abrahams as she shrieks at her lawyer, it looks like she may have a perjury case brought against her. She knowingly lied, from the moment I turned her fake ass down to the moment the verdict was read out.

She cried crocodile tears for the last four fucking weeks, now she’s showing her true colors.

“Griff?” A voice interrupts my deliberations. “Griff, let’s get outta here, man. I think we deserve a drink.” My lawyer claps his hand on my back, giving me a shake.

Turning towards him, I smile, not quite sure if it’s reaching my eyes but, right now, I don’t give a fuck!

“How did you find him?” I catch the startled look on the ever-cool Austin Reynolds, my amazing, and very expensive, lawyer. I owe him everything, his exorbitant fee is so worth it. He believed me from the outset and wouldn’t back down, even when I stubbornly refused to give him my alibi. He found it anyway and used it against my wishes. Good job, really.

“Does it matter?” Austin answers but it’s a guarded response.

“Well, to him, I imagine it mattered enormously.” I hear the sharpness in my tone.

“We didn’t hold a gun to his head, he’s a good man. Hell, he’s a war hero. What did you expect him to do?”

“I don’t know, and I guess I’ll never find out. He’s not a man I expect to run into again.” I brush the thoughts of the ruggedly handsome soldier from my mind, even though he haunts my dreams and wanders into my mind at every quiet moment.

“That’s true. So, come on, let’s go! If I’m lucky, I can get away and go capture my girl.” He smiles and gathers up the last of his papers before we head out. “There’s going to be shit loads of reporters outside, do you want to make a statement?”

“No, I’ll leave that up to you,” I joke, but I’m certainly not feeling the funny side of anything.