cruel summer; dallas winston

ONE

CHAPTER ONE: NEW TOWN SAME STORY

Darcey looked out the window of her father's light blue corvette, studying her place of residency for the next 3 months. Or 3 years. It depended on if Tulsa Oklahoma had any more exciting cases for her father to pick up after he finished his attempted murder project, AKA the case of the summer.

"We could at least pretend to be excited." Mrs.Picket sighed, looking back at her daughter from the passenger's seat. Neither of them were particularly ecstatic about the move. When Mrs.Picket married her lawyer husband she expected life of ease as a trophy wife, not moving every 6-12 months. And although Darcey was good at making new friends, she didn't particularly love uprooting near annually.

You see, the house was beautiful. All the houses they moved into were. It had a white wrap-around porch, a big back and front yard with a gorgeous apple tree placed in either one, tall dreamy windows, and was painted a cute peachy-cream color. Even their neighbor's homes were pretty, it was quite the perfect setting. However, the two women knew they'd be moving out of the gorgeous home in a few months.

Yet, despite the unavoidable moving that would come sooner than they'd wish, the two got out of the car to meet Mr.Picket at the porch, putting on their million-dollar "we so love it here" smiles.

***

Darcey surveyed her new bedroom, it was more spacious than her last, but not the biggest she'd ever had. It was cute, had a walk-in closet, and her own bathroom. Painted a light yellow with a cherry wood floor, a tall window that without curtains would leave her without an ounce of privacy, and then a light fixture that resembled a chandelier, but wasn't nearly as big. She then began unpacking, placing clothes in the closet and sheets on the bed. Strategically planning how she did it, making sure to make it as easy as possible to put back away into boxes in the next coming months.

"Darcey?" she turned away from her closet to find her father in the doorway

"Mhm?" she hummed, hanging up a cold shoulder sweater.

"Do you want to come with me to dinner tonight with my newest delinquent? Your mother refuses for now, as usual." he offered, chuckling on the last part. (Her mother never did like meeting the people her father would work with, however, she didn't like not meeting them, so she'd usually pretend she wasn't going to do anything to prepare but 10 minutes before the table would be set and plates would be served.) Darcey grinned despite herself at the thought of going to the introductory dinner, all afternoon she'd been purposefully sulking. But her father knew her better.

Darcey loved to meet the new people her father worked on cases with, tried to get to know them better. She often felt bad for them, no matter if they did the crime or not. That was why she could never be a lawyer, her father saw straight through people, only caring about how interesting the case was, how much money he could cash in from them and how likely he'd win. Mr.Picket had a perfect record, never losing a case once because he took on ones he knew he could manipulate.

"Yeah sure," she said coolly, her father nodded with a grin.

"He'll be over at 7:30, we'll be having lasagna." Mr.Picket then swiftly left. Darcey then continued preparing her bedroom.

***

Darcey descended the steps of her new home, clad in what she usually wore when meeting her father's clients. A red plaid skirt, a white button-up blouse, mary janes, and a red headband that matched the skirt. She subtly admired her house as she made her way, until stopping in the living room, right in front of her dining space.

Sitting at the table was her father, obviously, her mother who was passing out the salad, and the "he" her father had talked about, the delinquent.

He was dressed in the exact opposite of what you're supposed to wear when meeting your new lawyer. Tattered and frayed blue jeans, a white wife-beater, a silver Christopher necklace, and finally white converse so old by now they had a more brown appearance.

"Darcey," her mother said through a tight-lipped smile. Darcey smiled softly, making her way to her seat next to her mother, across from the delinquent.

The boy didn't seem to pay her any mind, glancing at her before returning his gaze to her father.

"This is Dallas Winston, he's being tried for attempted murder." her father said, Dallas scoffed.

"Tried," he muttered like it was already set in stone that he'd be spending his next 10 years in jail.

"You shouldn't talk like that," Darcey said as she cut her lasagna into pieces. Dallas Winston then looked her up and down, arched an eyebrow, made a decision in his head, and simply asked,

"Why not?" he was truly curious. Nobody, definitely not a girl had the gall to tell him what to do. Even if it was something as simple as correcting him on his speech. Darcey then shrugged,

"Because if you believe somethings going to happen, like being sentenced for attempted murder, and someone else wants it to happen, then it's going to happen. However," she then glanced at her father, then her mother, and then Dallas, who were all studying her in different ways. Her father, wondering what his daughter he had mentored and raised would have to say about not giving up, her mother who was surprised she even spoke during one of these dinners, (usually Darcey kept quiet and listened rather than talked when meeting her father's cases) and finally Dallas, who was trying to size this girl up, figure out what she was like.

"If you fight against what you find to be inevitable, and believe it's easily avoidable, then you'll have a better shot at winning the case." Darcey finished before taking her first bite of the lasagna. Mr.Picket smiled proudly at his daughter,

"Exactly," he said, gesturing to Dallas. Dallas shrugged standing.

"Alright," he muttered before leaving the home, most of his food untouched. This didn't phase anyone in the Picket family. It took a while for the delinquents Mr.Picket worked with to warm up to the idea of being told what to say, even if it was in a courtroom and could save their skin. However, this wasn't a pre-trial conversation, yet Mr.Picket had researched Dallas before deciding on his case to pick up. He'd only been defended by public defenders, a.k.a free lawyers. And he wasn't paying for Mr.Picket himself, he truly didn't even want him.

But, it truly didn't matter to Mr.Picket who was funding the case, although money was his second priority, interestingness was his first. And Dallas Winston was quite the character. However he'd never gotten told what to do in his life, and being semi-lectured by a girl in mary jane's definitely didn't help his attitude.