I found out earlier I was correct in thinking I was more milf than motherly when I walked into the living room, Tate, Stella and Jonas all looked at me in my outfit, Tate smiled sexy slow and declared, “Jesus, you look like a sex kitten school marm.”
I turned instantly on my heel and headed back to the bedroom while I heard Jonas cackle loudly and effusively which almost, but not quite, drowned out Stella’s laughter.
Tate caught me before I made it to the bedroom and led me firmly to the Explorer.
The doors to the courtroom opened, I jumped and Wood walked in.
His eyes moved through me to Tate and he walked right to the front where the little, shiny wooden partition separated the onlookers from the opponents.
Tate stared at Wood as did Nina.
“I said anything,” Wood murmured to Tate and then turned his attention to Tate’s attorney. “I was there both nights Neeta showed at Tate’s, includin’ the night she drove there drunk.”
“And you are?” Nina asked.
“Neeta’s brother,” Tate answered.
Nina Maxwell grinned.
We were all seated, me between Wood and Shambles. It was ten minutes after the time court was supposed to be in session, the courtroom personnel were looking impatient and Neeta’s attorney was looking harassed.
He was about to be more harassed for the doors opened and Neeta came in and it didn’t take a waitress at a biker bar to know instantly she was drunk off her ass.
“Lordy be,” I heard Betty murmur as I stared at Neeta making her intoxicated way down the aisle.
She was dressed about two steps up from usual. Short skirt (wrinkled) see-through blouse (no camisole, black bra, blouse also wrinkled) and high-heeled, strappy sandals (with scuffs).
She was followed by a dark-haired man in an ill-fitting suit, the suit clearly purchased in a time when beer wasn’t the main component of his nutritional intake. I found myself even more fascinated by him than I was the inebriated Neeta because I knew, I knew just looking at him, he once was beautiful. He could have been as beautiful as Tate but I’d need picture proof of that, but the indicators were all there.
Tate was forty-four and looked in his thirties.
Neeta’s man was likely close to Tate’s age but looked in his fifties.
Boy, she wasn’t just dumb, the woman was stupid.
It was bad manners to gloat so I didn’t and anyway, I was too startled by Neeta showing up drunk to her son’s custody hearing to gloat.
My eyes moved away from the spectacle of Neeta’s man attempting to guide her to the front and I saw Wood watching his sister.
I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his bicep. At my touch, he turned to me and showed me his pain.
“Honey,” I whispered.
“Stupid,” he whispered back. “Fuck me. So fuckin’ stupid.”
I squeezed his arm and my eyes went to Tate who was still standing, his gaze glued to Neeta. His jaw was tight and his eyes were cold.
He looked to me and shook his head in disgust. I shook mine back and squeezed Wood’s arm again before I dropped my hand in my lap.
Neeta’s man got her to her attorney and she didn’t look at anyone as she passed us. This was likely because she was concentrating on walking. Blake retraced his steps and sat across the aisle from Wood. He didn’t look at Tate, he didn’t look at Wood, he didn’t look at anyone. He just sat down and faced forward.
“Are you finally ready?” the bailiff asked Neeta’s attorney.
“If my client and I could have…” Neeta’s attorney started.
“You’re ready,” the bailiff cut him off and disappeared behind a door.
I looked back at Tate to see he was seating himself.
Five seconds later we were all standing after we heard, “All rise…”
When we were given the all clear to sit again, I did and held my breath.
Five minutes later, the judge cut off Neeta’s attorney mid-sentence and, eyes narrowed on Neeta, he asked her directly, “Mrs. Daniels, are you intoxicated?”
“Your honor, if we could –” Neeta’s attorney started.
The judge cut him off by saying sharply and impatiently to the bailiff, “Get a breathalyzer in here.”
Then he abruptly stood, the bailiff called out, “All rise…” we all rose and the judge stormed out.
“I bought this outfit for nothing,” I groused in the Explorer on the way home.
“Baby, it’s sweet,” Tate replied.
I turned to Tate. “The judge talked to me for five seconds. I told him about the snag in Jonas’s carpet and how I was going to fix it and he just said, ‘Good thinking, Miss Grahame, those can be dangerous, send the hotel people in here on your way out, would you?’ That’s it!” I ended on cry.