#nothing noteworthy to add i just wanted to say it just incase i get it right so i can feel smart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colettascorner · 7 years ago

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SL with @BestYoullNvrHve and @TryButYoullLose #WhenThePlanGoesFUBAR

SL #1 - Serving the Warrant

Oliver: [I dressed as if it were a normal day. A good shave, three piece suit, cologne, and before long, I was reading the newspaper as I sipped my coffee in the kitchen.

But today was anything but a normal day.

I was a bundle of a million emotions, but I’d learned long ago to push those down, to exude only confidence and calm. My poker skills were second to none, and I was never beat when it came to closing arguments.

I didn’t doubt my skills, I didn’t doubt my reasons, but approaching Coletta Martinelli was a ballsy move that had very real, deadly consequences if I failed to at least pique her interests or make her question her father’s business.

I knew I was good looking. I knew women fell all over themselves when they were around me. Most, not all. I worked out five days a week, I ate clean, and I just had good genes and plenty of money to spend on facials and such. I considered it a work expense. The jury would judge me by looks first, and I wanted to put forth the best version of myself.

Dating was the same. Best version of me. But at nights, after she’s left or when no one was here, I wondered what it would be like to have a place to let down the facade.

I likely wouldn’t be able to. It was best this way.

I checked the watch on my wrist, Tagheurst, about three grand. It made a good impression. And, as it seemed, it was time to go.

Jimmy stood against the car, and when he saw me, he opened the door. “Where to this morning, Sir?”] We’ll find out soon. Right now, just drive.

Coletta: {For the first time in years, I took full advantage of my station and having no responsibility and relaxed. Numbed myself out with a few joints a day. Read for leisure, went to the spa. Took a lot of baths. After about a week, I was going stir crazy. The silence from my father was deafening although I tried not to let myself dwell on it too much, a sure fire way to become a paranoid hermit. I knew there would still be a tail if and when I left my penthouse, but after a week, I needed to at least get some fresh air. I'd been ignoring the only number that tried to contact me for the better part of a week. What the DA wanted with me, I had know idea. The plan for my involvement in the bar would have eventually turned toward illegal, but I hadn't been there long enough to get those arms of the business established. The best he'd have was a loan shark charge. Surely that could be plead away as no real threat. Even still, I hadn't followed protocol. I hadn't contacted the family attorney as soon as law enforcement made contact. Yet another infraction to add to my list that wouldn't be taken lightly. I don't know why I hadn't. I had no interest in working with the law. The only thing I could think to justify it was that I was shaken. My faith in my father, my position in the family were unknown right now and I didn't like the feeling that had settled into my stomach. I'd been thinking in circles after the texted turned more threatening, and I needed a distraction. Something simple. I'd showered and dressed this morning with no other plan then to head to the Starbucks on the corner, grab some breakfast and an extra calorie latte and read, people watch, be no one for a little while. Maybe do some shopping after that. If I had any friends, it'd be nice to grab lunch, but I didn't. Well, anyone I was friends with was through the “family” so that was an absolute no go. Satisfied with my casual look for the day, I bundled up in my coat and headed out. Back to the life of the living, at least it was easy to blend in, in NYC.}

Oliver: [I answered my phone, hearing the report over the other end of the line: Starbucks. Perfect. I hung up without a word.] Starbucks. [I rattled off the address, tucked my phone back into my jacket pocket, and sat back in the car. That was the perfect spot. There would be a lot of people there, she’d be less likely to make a scene, and maybe since it wasn’t in an office or surrounded by officers, she’d be more willing to talk. Officers were on standby, though, incase something unforeseen happened, but I was confident in my control. I’d stayed up most of the night planning out what I’d say, trying to be several steps ahead if this didn’t go as planned, and I’d decided that there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do to make this happen. I was single now, not even any side attachments, and should it come to that, I could make it happen. She was a beautiful woman, and I was an excellent actor.

The driver stopped in front of the store and came around to let me out. I tapped my cell phone and he nodded before I walked toward the door. I ordered a double shot of espresso, one pump of sugar free caramel, and took it to the back, taking a seat in one of the armchairs and sitting back. I relaxed, crossing one leg over the other. I knew her, but she didn’t know me. It was time to execute. No room for failure.]

Coletta. {Head bowed against the wind, scarf wrapped around the lower half of my face, the walk felt longer than it was in the cold. I'd expected typical weather for NYC in winter, but I should have checked. One of those bone deep bitter cold fronts had the streets emptier than usual. Not ideal when hoping not to be noticed by any of my father’s men the might have been watching the door of my building, but that just seemed my luck lately. No harm, an innocent trip to the coffee shop would hardly be noteworthy when reported back. Ducking into the store, I breathed deep, loving the scent of rich coffee beans in the air. A venti caramel macchiato with coconut milk and an extra.espresso shot with a chocolate crescent had my stomach rumbling as I glanced around for a seat. I chose one as far as I could from the windows, a habit I knew well, as I settled into the corner of a small couch with a side table, crossed my ankles and took my kindle from my bag.}

Oliver: [I saw her walk in, and I waited. Patience was a virtue I possessed in abundance. I looked out the window, counting eyes on the princess, and there were many, but that wasn’t going to deter me. Not one bit. As if it were natural, I stood and moved over to the couch, smiling politely at her as I sat down. On my phone, I dialed her number discreetly, and when it rang, and she ignored me again, I sat back, crossed one leg over another, and held my paper up in front of my face] Tsk, tsk, Miss Martinelli. I informed you of what would happen if you ignored my calls. [I pretended to peruse the articles, staying relaxed] Before you make a decision about how you handle this, let me show you this first. [I flipped to the next page of the paper where the warrant was laid out, letting her see its authenticity if she was able to authenticate it at all] This is a warrant for your arrest for sexual misconduct. Outside, I have a few officers here to help me should I have to serve you with this warrant. I’m hoping I won’t have to. [I knew I should likely be more sympathetic, but such was life.] If you’ll merely listen to my proposal and seriously consider what I have to say, without alerting your detail or your father, this warrant will stay in my possession. You won’t have to go through the embarrassment of the testimony the bar manager gave. It’s quite detailed. [It was also quite trumped up, but there was circumstantial evidence in the form of videos and stills that could be coercive enough to create probably cause and take this to trial. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to test that theory] What do you say, Coletta?

Coletta: {There are moments in life that can change everything, that you well and truly don't see coming. This was it for me. I had just opened my current read, hit ignore on the restricted number incoming call, and sipped my latte, when the man I'd barely noticed sit beside me, spoke. Only years of training at my father's elbow kept my features in check, when every word he spoke had me dying inside. I'd only seen his picture in the papers or on tv, but glancing over, then keeping my gaze on him, I knew exactly who he was...and so would my father's men. I was already dead. I could only imagine the suspicion, the speculation. He'd think that after we'd had our disagreement, I turned tail on him, when the truth was the opposite. That wouldn't matter to my father. He trusted no one. Pulse pounding in my ears, my mind went into survival mode, flipping through the options and scenarios I had left to me. At this moment, my father might be making the kill order. If I bolted, I wouldn't make it three feet outside of the door. I wasn't worried about the charges. I knew they were bullshit. That asshole would never testify against me and risk my father's wrath. Not with his brother's life on the line. No, Mr. District Attorney had greased the wheels on this circus car and I was supposed to perform. As humiliating as it would be, I only had one choice left. I couldn't be witnessed going peacefully so arrest it was. Better to have my name drug through the mud than be dead, right? Maybe not, but still. Sitting up in my seat, I slid my phone and kindle into my bag, before hitching it to my shoulder, not that it would be in my possession for long. Smiling my best customer service smile, I held out my wrists to him, getting in a few words before he read me my rights.} I hope this case will be worth my death on your soul, Mr. Davidson. Although, I do look forward to seeing my attorney rake you over the coals in courts before I go. Did you want to put the cuffs on here? Pretty good scene you'll make. Nice headline for page ten of The Times. Or shall we take this outside? {He may have thought me a wilting flower that could be strong armed, but for as long as I had left, he'd only get the thorns. The thing about a person who has nothing left, is that they have nothing left to lose.}

Oliver: [This wasn’t what I expected, not in the least. This wasn’t even third or fourth on my contingency plan list. I stared at her wrists for a moment, then looked up at her. I’d underestimated how desperate she was. Desperate wasn’t the right word, though. This called for a different approach. I stayed calm, though, watching her react, and I kept the paper up so my face was hidden.] Sit back, Miss Martinelli. You’re the only one that’s making a scene. [I turned the page of the paper, hiding the warrant] Your attache can’t see me. I don’t plan on making myself known either, unless, of course, you’re going to do that for me. [I pursed my lips, turning to meet her eyes. She was used to alpha males, being bossed, being controlled. Maybe a more human touch would go a long way. I could do that. I handled a jury.] Coletta, you deserve better than the way you’re being treated. I’ve seen your accomplishments, your grades are superior. You’ve worked hard your entire life. You didn’t ask to be born into this family, and whether you realize it or not, or want to see it, you have options. I’m giving you an option now. I have a job to do, and sometimes that makes me an asshole. I know you won’t believe me, but I understand this isn’t easy. He’s your father. Mine was demanding growing up too. [I sighed, looking away. Time to do some fancy footwork.] But you and I aren’t the only ones to think about. The Jones’, the Scotts, the Lesters, the Jacobs...these are just four families who’ve been forever impacted by your father. They lost /their/ mother, father, brother or sister. You can help me stop it. We can do something about it. [I met her eyes, trying to be as sincere as I could be. I did want this case because it would make an impact. There was a personal reason for me, but that wasn’t her business.] Just agree to meet me again. Let me show you some things. I’ll take care of the details and it won’t be a problem. [I paused, lowering my voice] Please, Coletta.

Coletta: {The strong arm hadn't worked, so what, here came the empathetic appeal? I was supposed to fold under the emotion weight of my father's crimes because I was a female? Could he be any more textbook? He may have done his homework on me, but he had no idea who I was. I learned how to control my emotions long ago as I watched my father ruin my mother. My heart no longer bled for anyone but me.} Why you think I would trust one word you have to say regarding my safety, I have no idea. Please don't insult me with pleas as though you actually care about anything more than a win. Rumor has it you've got your eye on the mayor’s job, Oliver. I bet taking my father down would lock that position right up for you. {Sneering as I lifted the coffee to my lips, if he wasn't going to arrest me, I was going to finish enjoying my breakfast before risking the bullet to my brain that might be waiting of me outside. I suddenly wished my coffee was something much stronger.} Good luck with that. Unfortunately, you'll have to find yourself another rat. {I didn't need him telling me how I did or didn't deserve to be treated. I knew I'd been dealt a shitty hand when, even with my MBA, I'd had little choice in the career path I'd be able to take. But I was a survivor. Like my mother. The hope that someday I'd be able to get out like she had was what kept me going. Revenge was a dish best served cold. Someday, I'd get back at my father. Show him exactly who I was, but I wasn't about to trade the control of one strong headed bully for another. Lifting my kindle from my bag once more, I settled back into my seat, studiously ignoring the GQ attorney beside me.}

Oliver: Fine. [I folded the paper down, putting it in my lap and showing my face, scraping every plan I’d come up with in the last week. This woman wasn’t fitting any of the profiles I had on her, but the more she talked, the more I put together my own profile, and the more I realized we weren’t that different.] Six years ago, Miss Martinelli, my brother hit a rough patch. He’d always had problems, gambling, drugs, you name it and Johnny dealt in it. He was my older brother, and I have one younger sister too. Anyways, six years ago he hit rock bottom, got mixed up in your father’s underground gambling. I was just out of law school, trying to get a job anywhere I could. I had aspiration even then, so I changed my last name to mother’s maiden name to distance myself from my brother’s record. I ignored his calls, refused my parents when they asked for help, until I got a call one night from a police contact of mine telling me he’d been found dead in an alley near an old Italian restaurant downtown. Two shots to the back of the head. [I reached over for my own coffee, taking a slow sip, fine with the fact that she was acting like she didn’t even hear me. I’d already resided myself to the fact that I’d underestimated her, and therefore would have to find another plan. I didn’t like to lose, but I hadn’t lost yet. Martinelli had to have another weakness. I didn’t even know why I was finishing my story to her. Maybe just for posterity.] So yes, I have my eye on the mayoral position. Nailing your father would be a step in the right direction. But what I think about almost every day is doing this for my brother, so he wasn’t just another name on a list, and maybe I’ll be able to sleep without wondering what would have happened if I’d have answered my damn phone. [I finished my coffee and stood, reaching out for Coletta’s hand, cradling it carefully in mine as I brought it to my lips and kissed the top.] It’s been a pleasure, truly. You know where to find me. [And with that, I tucked the paper under my arm and headed for the door.]

Coletta: {God fucking damnit. The laundry list of names that could be attributed to my father hadn't ever really affected me. Not really. The exception being putting a face to the names. Once I'd taken a position in the company, I'd made it my secret mission to reduce the collateral damage as much as possible. Whether that meant covering part of the huge percentages my father placed on loans, unbeknownst to anyone, so that the borrower actually had a chance of paying of the debts, or, as in was the case with the bar, taking a more hands on position so that I could act as a buffer, along with the legit business methods I'd put into place, I'd tried to reduce the senseless murders, even if no one ever realized it. The story the DA spun was more than just that. I could see the truth and determination in his eyes in those few covert glances over, I'd chanced. That told me he wasn't giving up. Taking down my father was more than a career move for him. It was person. For me, that meant I could play the game or become a casualty myself. Eyes closed as he stood and walked away, when I opened them, a small business card sat before me. Narrowing my eyes at the heavy stock card, I glanced around to be sure that he was gone before picking it up. The front was his official business card, complete with the little court seal in the corner, but on the back was scratched in penmanship too neat to be a guy's, was, “personal #” followed by the ten digits. Jerk. I should leave it here, I thought as I slipped it into my bag. I took my time, finished my coffee and croissant doing my best impression of relaxed and at ease while keeping a watchful eye on the patrons coming in and out of the shop, looking to see if I recognized anyone. When I couldn't wait any longer, I stood and made my way towards the bathrooms...only I continued down the hall, glanced around and again before pushing through the back exit into the alley. Breathing coming in short pants so that I could see my breath, my pulse pounded in my ears in time with every step I took. Any moment now...at least it would be quick. The walk back to my apartment building, through back alleys, peeking around dumpsters, jumping at the slightest rustling of a garbage bag, was the scariest ten minutes of my life. It took me five minutes to unlock the door to the penthouse my hands were shaking so badly. Once inside I locked and bolted the door, set the alarm and hit the switch on the wall that lowered the privacy blinds. I'd made it back alive, but for how long?}

Oliver: [I pounded the bag, left right, left left right, kicking up my leg and rounding it to hit the bag and send it swinging. I got back into the rhythm, hitting with elbows, bringing his knee up to break a rib or a nose, but only hitting sand. The sweat felt good, and I relished the breaths I sucked in, finally swinging in a flurry of fists, then giving one hard punch. The bag swung high, and I stepped out of the way, reaching down and grabbing my towel and water, taking a long drink and wiping my face, catching my breath.

I looked in the mirror, my profile surprising me a moment. Johnny and I looked so much alike, and the older he got, the more than was true. There would come a time when I’d resemble what my brother would have looked like had he been able to grow older, gracefully, instead of decaying six feet under.

I saw my phone flash on the ground, and I picked it up, pursing my lips at John’s number. I wasn’t ready to explain my failure. He’d likely be pissed his warrant had to stay in limbo, the more time it stood, the more a chance someone would find out. I’d need to go withdraw it soon and decide on a different path.

I’d call him tomorrow.

A knock on the door started me, and it opened on its own. “Sir, we have several CIs that have informed us that there’s been a hit contract taken out on Coletta Martinelli.”]

Fuck… [I ran my hand through my hair, my gut flipping. If she died, he’d be responsible, even if no one ever knew besides the ones in on the meeting yesterday. I had no choice.]

Go pick her up. Bring her here, then we’ll figure out a plan. It’s close to midnight, and she’s going to be hard to handle. If you have to, arrest her for resisting. Make her wear a helmet and vest. God damnit! His own daughter?

[I picked up my things and followed the officer out.] I’m going to shower and dress. Be quick. Go undercover.

[I turned to go to the showers, my mind going a mile an hour. How would I justify protecting her if she won’t help me? And if she won’t turn States evidence, I’d have to let her go. No witness protection. This just kept getting worse.]

Coletta: {I knew myself well enough to know that I wasn't going to sleep tonight. Spent the first few hours after I'd returned home pacing. Wondering. Worrying. Should I call my father? Would he call me? Not hearing from him could be good or bad. Would he call me if he suspected anything? Would he not because he'd already made a decision? Mid afternoon, I called my mother in Colorado, knowing she would just be getting her day started. Trying to pretend everything was okay, was extremely hard, but I made it through twenty minutes of hearing about her shop and how things were going then promised to get out there for a visit soon. I barely choked back a sob as we said our goodbyes. She had no idea that it might be our last. I tried to think of what I'd want to do if I knew I was going to die today...but after five minutes I was so depressed, I wanted to do the job for my father. That's show him, right? No. He wouldn't care. All of my internal torture was speculation of course. I had no idea what he knew or didn't, but the unknown was part of what was driving me insane. So I turned to cleaning my penthouse apartment from top to bottom. It didn't matter that the cleaning lady had been there two days ago. Occupying my hands with menial tasks occupied my mind. Until every inch of the place was sickeningly spotless. Only my stomach growling close to nine o’clock gave me something else to do. Opening a bottle of wine, I went through the fridge and decided on leftovers. Some last meal, but hey, tacos. You would think I'd have little appetite, but I was the opposite. I stress ate like a champ. Didn't stop until I was well and truly stuffed, because who fucking cared about calories when you were a dead woman walking. I hoped my casket was heavier for whatever assholes my father assigned to carry it. That thought told me just how drunk I was getting as I poured the rest of the second bottle into my goblet. Taking the glass, I stumbled to the sette facing the windows that overlooked the city. God, I loved this view this city. I don't know how long I sat there and stared, the buzz of the wine numbing my mind nicely. I was very nearly passed out when the pounding on my door made me jump. Momentarily confused as I thought the pounding was in my head, then felt it in my chest as it matched the staccato on my door, I'd never been more relieved to hear, “Police. Open up.”}

Oliver: [I sat on the couch in my home, a scotch in one hand, comfortable in sleep pants and a cotton t-shirt. The officers had informed me that Coletta had come willingly, even...compliantly, given she was quite intoxicated at the time. I wasn’t going to judge because as soon as I made sure she was set here, for the night, I was going to drink this bottle till it was gone.

When the bell rang, I stood, settling my tumbler down, and walked to the door, finding the two officers on either side of her, and I nodded, stepping aside and letting them in] Good evening, Miss Martinelli. Welcome to my home. [I pointed them to the living room, having them sit her on the couch while I went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of water and brought it back to her, setting it on the coffee table in from of her.] I’m sure, at some level, you understand why you’re here. But just incase, I’ll tell you. We received intel from several reliable CIs that your father had put out a contract on you tonight. It seems it’s irrelevant that you’re his daughter.

[I sat down across from her, picking up my brandy and sitting back] We have officers outside my home tonight, enough to protect both of us, given he also put out a contract on me. So you see, Miss Martinelli, we’re in the same situation. It seems he’s trying to control the narrative. But you see, I’m not a man who likes to be controlled.

[I gritted my teeth and stared out the window, quite irritated to see tactical men in my front lawn] Nevertheless, there’s a room ready for you, and you’ll stay here tonight, and in the morning, we’ll make more concrete plans.

[I took another sip of brandy, sighing, no ability to concentrate on anything else but the fact that I was going to bury the Martinelli name so far under that no one would even remember them, only that the city was safer and stronger now than before. That would be his punishment, to be forgotten. Forever to rot behind bars until he died. I didn’t even realize I’d drained the glass, so I stood again, going to fill another] I have wine, if you’d like, and it’s not my place to police you. So if you’d like another glass to forget this shitty situation for a bit, tell me now and I’ll bring it to you while I can walk.

Coletta: {Because I was drunk, the humiliation of being carted from my penthouse and paraded through the lobby, barely registered. I nodded off almost as soon as I was put in the back of the police car, so far from caring about anything it was almost scary. Only when I felt the car stop, did I look around, bleary eyed, then really confused. Instead of parked in the grimey lot of the police station we were in front of a three story brownstone all the way out in the part of the city that actual had front yards. Well, small patches of grass, by most lawn standards, but in NYC, these places meant money. My heart immediately sped as my mind ran through any number of scenarios. We're these dirty cops, paid off by my father? Was this the home of one of his “associates”? Slack jawed, I had no choice but to find out as the officer hauled me from the back side and I stumbled up the walk beside him. When the door open to show Mr. All-American District Attorney, my jaw may have actually hit the floor. It was completely unfair that he looked that good this late in a t-shirt and sleep pants while I looked like a bum off the streets in my hoodie and sweatpants. How drunk was I? Was hallucination drunk even a thing? Snorting at my own thought, I moved with the officer inside, sat where he put me. Wasn't I a good little criminal? Before I could open my mouth and let my drunken sass get me in even more trouble, of course, the lawyer took the floor. Hands between my knees in my sweats I never left the house in, shoulders slumped, I listened as he confirmed my greatest fear. I wasn't really surprised, and yet...blinking rapidly, there was no staving off the tears that fell. Stupid wine. To hear confirmed what had been my deepest darkest fear for as long as I could remember, if there was ever a choice which would he make, broke my heart in two. The last of the faith, the hope that I had locked away in a tiny box in my heart slipped away. He didn't care at all. I was his only child. Well, legitimate child from his first marriage, and he was ready to toss me away to save his own ass. Fuck him. Head ducked so that a curtain of hair half hid my face, I angrily swiped at my tears. I could only nod. My voice, my words, well and truly stolen from me. Taking the bottle of water, I chugged most of it. When he offered me another drink and laid out the parameters of my stay here, I lifted my heavy head. A drunken coma was exactly what I needed right now. I knew I wouldn't be lucky enough to give myself alcohol poisoning.} Do you have anything stronger?

Oliver: [My head was pounding, and the thick film on my tongue made me gag eve more than the nausea that was rolling around in my stomach. The last thing I remembered was opening a new bottle of scotch...what time was it? I reached over to my side-table, to the right, to pick up my cell phone, but my hand didn’t fall on a cell phone, or a side table, but a breast, if I had to guess.

I did not.

I slowly pulled my hand back, not wanting to wake her, and without opening my eyes I rolled to my left toward the side of the bed. I sat up slowly, everything still spinning, and cracked my eyes open as I looked down, and nothing. I wasn’t wearing any fucking underwear.

Well, that was just fucking great.

I smashed the heels of my hands into my eyes and counted to ten. It was a slow count, more to calm myself down than to change the situation.

When it was over, I looked up, stood, and walked into the bathroom. I looked back, trying to find my clothes, but they weren’t there. I shut the door, looked at myself in the mirror, and groaned. Ragged, still tired. Hungover.

I hadn’t drank like this since college. Not law school, but college, when I was stupid and young. Except I wasn’t so young anymore, but at times I felt quite stupid.

I’d rolled the dice with Coletta, her father, and I’d lost. Unless I closed this case, nailed Martinelli, this was always going to be hanging over my head.

I heard a ringing phone, and I looked around, not seeing it on the counter, I opened the bathroom door and scanned the room, seeing the light flash under the bed. I crawled quietly to get it, waiting till I was back in the bathroom with the door closed to answer low.] Hello? [Shit, my voice sounded rougher than I looked. “Oli. Man. What’s going on?” Concern colored Coen’s voice, the only ADA that even remotely cared for me.

Just the noise of his voice made my head throb again.]

Can’t talk. Explain later.

[I heard a chuckled, and I rolled my eyes. “Are you...hung over?”] Go away. [It took me a few more moments of hearing him begin to ramble to realize I could hang up. So I did. I looked around on the counter for anything of mine, but this wasn’t my bathroom. It was the guest bathroom. Her room. Maybe I could get to my room without her…

I opened the door, and quickly realized that was going to be impossible. All I could do was stand there.] Morning.

Coletta: {Oooouuuccchhhh....I don't know what woke me up, but my head was pounding. Shit, had I been shot? Where was I? Fuck. My brain came online in a cloud of confusing as I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to thing through the pain. Oh my god...I was drunk when I'd arrived at the DA’s house, and it had only gotten worse from there. I don't think I'd ever been that drunk in my life. Then my brain just stopped. I don't remember going to bed at all. So this is what a black out felt like. It sucked. Groaning as I tried to stretch, which was a mistake as it awakened aches all over my body, my eyes popped open when I felt the slide of sheets against bare legs. That wasn't right. I'd had on sweats and a hoodie last. Night. Now my pulse was pounding along with the pain in my brain as I slid my hand across my belly. I was naked as the day I was born. Had I gotten too hot and taken my clothes off in my drunken stupor? Sleeping naked in a stranger's home was not me. Noise from what I could only assume was a bathroom drew my attention, brows furrowed as I headed the muffled gravelly voice of a man. It had to be my host. What, did the bathroom connect the bedrooms? Odd. What the hell. First thing first, I needed clothes. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I sat up...and immediately regretted it. The competition between the spinning of my head and stomach kicked into high gear just as the bathroom door opened and Oliver Davidson stepped out in all of his well toned and tanned naked glory. The worst part was the realization that this wasn't the first time I'd seen him naked. Aaaannndddd that was that. A clumsy lung toward the bathroom door he'd just exited, I collapsed in an unceremonious heap, my head just made it over the toilet as my stomach rebelled, and emptied the contents of the gallons of alcohol I must have imbibed last night.}

Oliver: Oh, come on! Dramatic much? It’s not like I’m repulsive or anything. [Just the sound of her heaving made me dry heave, and I went to sit on the bed, not even bothering to cover up, because at this moment I couldn’t give a shit less. I’d just slept with my witness. I’d made so many ethics violations it was unreal. Hell, if this got out, I’d lose my job. I might get disbarred. No one in the city would ever trust me again, and I’d still likely get killed.

Fuck. This.]

Look, [I tried to sound professional, but my professional was all gone right now, and my head was spinning as well.] I don’t know know what happened last night. But whatever it was, let’s keep it between ourselves? I mean, it’s obvious you don’t care about your image with the way you were going to so easily give in and let the whole world think you’d sexually harassed a man, but I -do- care about mine. Furthermore, if you said we slept together, I could deny it and it would be my word against yours, and who are they going to believe? The daughter of an organized crime boss or the city’s District Attorney? That’s obvious. [She heaved again, and I was tempted to close the door, but I couldn’t have a conversation like this without being able to see the person I was talking to, even if they were blowing chunks.] Also, unless you remember specific details, it’s ambiguous at best if we even did have sexual intercourse, and if we did, where’s the proof? Once we shower and dress, DNA will be washed off. The sheets have our DNA, but unless there’s fluids, you can’t prove anything. Even -with- fluids it might have been a drunken jerk off. [I stopped myself, thankfully, and pushed the heel of my hand into my temple.] Bottom line, this, whatever it is, didn’t happen.

Coletta: {Holy. Shit. I'd slept with the world's biggest asshole. Who knew? So far my sexual history consisted of a fuckboy and an self centered narcissistic asshole. Well, the first one was that too, so at least I had a type. My anger had my headache momentarily taking a back seat as everything he spouted had a fire forming in my belly. He ran through his defense out loud, and whether he realized it or not, it doubled as his admission to something wrong. Very wrong. I couldn't even speak to defend myself between wretches and this jerk off was threatening me?! The only thing I could do was reach behind me, middle finger extended until I could breathe again. Tears leaked down my cheeks from the force of my heaves and I was sure my eye liner was smeared to hell with it. Once my stomach was well and truly empty and I'd sucked in a couple of deep breath, I turned my head, aiming a death glare at the golden boy sitting on the bed. Voice barely above a croak, I let it all out.} And what if I ran off to the hospital and demanded a rape kit, right now? I know exactly what I look like, and if you don't think that I could whip up a bout of hysterics, you've never met a drama queen. So listen here, All American, you don't get to threaten me any more than you already have. It's your fault I'm here in the first place. And if you don't think I'd air everything, and I mean everything on the stand for god and all the city to hear, you've never met a girl who literally has nothing left to lose. Ruining your career would be the icing on the cake. So keep telling me what did and didn't happen. Haven't you ever listened to Joe Biden? If she's drunk, she can't consent, and I may be an MBA, but I know that New York City has some of the strictest rape laws on the books. How sensational would it be for the top law enforcement official to go down on laws he helped create? {Sucking in more deep breaths to stave off the next wave of nausea, my eyes narrowed to slits.} I know exactly what matters most to you, Oliver. So if you don't want to be reduced to nothing more than a glorified frat boy, you better get the fuck out of my face for a long while. I may be stuck with you temporarily, but I will not be ordered around like some stupid whore. If you haven't figured it out yet, let me clue you in...you have no idea who you're fucking with.

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