Lifetime Pile-Up
Frankie
The experiment with Coop didn’t go anywhere, because when we got back to my apartment, Mr. Wittaker was waiting for us. I hadn’t known the attorney was coming over, and he gave me an apologetic look as he exited his car to greet us.
“Miss Curtis, I tried to call, but I never got past your voicemail.”
Oh.
“I haven’t really had my phone on much.” The guys were here, and even when they were at school, one of them was with me. Otherwise, I’d have felt disconnected. I just didn’t want to answer messages yet. I still needed to straighten out how I felt about a lot of this in my head.
“I understand,” he said. “I spoke to Mr. Standish—the younger—this morning. He let me know, but this is important, so I came to you. Do you have time to talk to me?”
I glanced at Coop, and he gave me a nod. “Sure,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Would you like to come in?”
It had taken a lot to work up to propositioning Coop. The guys had been amazing. Really, really amazing. But I missed more, and I wanted…well, it didn’t matter what I wanted right now. Mr. Wittaker said this was important, and I wanted my official independence from my mother. So, one thing at a time.
My wrist ached and so did my back. Every day, I felt a bit better and could put off the pain meds longer and longer. But the aching twinges in my hand and wrist grew more pronounced with each passing hour. If it wasn’t better by the time Mr. Wittaker left, I’d take something.
I didn’t like taking any of the pain meds. They either made me loopy or knocked me out. Most of the time, it was both.
We sat at the table in the kitchen. Coop flipped on the light, and I opened the blinds that I almost never opened to let the sunshine in. In his suit, Mr. Wittaker seemed horribly out of place here, but he made no comment on the apartment size or state. At least it was clean.
The guys had been pretty fastidious.
Even in the bathroom, I’d only had to complain once about the toilet seat being left up, and they didn’t do it again. Kind of unfair I supposed, one of me and four of them, but they were being sweet.
Flipping open his black briefcase, Mr. Wittaker pulled out two folders. Then he glanced at Coop before he looked to me.
“It’s fine, you can talk to me in front of Coop.” He had talked to me in front of Archie, but Archie and Jeremy had paid the bill, so I supposed that might be different.
“Actually,” Mr. Wittaker stated. “It’s not fine. Mr. Benton is eighteen, correct?”
Coop nodded slowly as I frowned.
“That’s what I thought.” Mr. Wittaker focused his whole attention on me. “As your attorney, we share attorney-client privilege. Anything you say to me is protected. However, if Mr. Benton stays, he can, since he is eighteen, be compelled to testify should it come down to that to anything you said here.”
Scowling, Coop said, “I’d never tell her secrets, compelled or not.”
“Mr. Benton, that’s a truly noble thought. However, if you lie on the stand, then you would be committing perjury. That is also a crime.”
My stomach flip-flopped. The last thing I wanted was for Coop to get into trouble.
“I’m telling you this, Miss Curtis, because as your attorney, when we discuss matters of the case, it should only be us. Then anything you say is protected. I can’t prevent you from telling him after the fact, but just understand—anything you share may be up for grabs if they are compelled.”
Oh this sucked.
“What are the chances of them being called?” I didn’t want this to spill over onto the guys. I just wanted to get out of this mess with my mom.
“What are the chances your mother will fight this?”
She’d have to want me to fight it, right?
“I can go back to the bedroom,” Coop said, though he clearly didn’t like it. “You can call me when you’re done.” But he wasn’t talking to the lawyer. Instead, he focused on me. “If you’re okay with being alone with him. Otherwise, I’ll just go get my headphones and sit in the living room and turn them up real loud.”
I wasn’t worried about Mr. Wittaker at all, but Coop’s offer warmed me.
“I’ll be okay.”