Superficial (DE)

Twenty-eight.

"Your honor—," Cerise paused, narrowing her eyes at herself as she stood before a random mirror in her condo before shaking her head. She cleared her throat, straightening her posture some before trying again. "Your honor— I'd like to put in a motion for dismissal,"

Cerise paused again scrunching up her face as she looked down at the piece of journal paper she'd ripped from one of her work journals with her defense scribbled on it.

"You need to be more assertive Ree," Cerise coached herself, taking a pen and scratching out the sentence before writing down a new one.

Cerise cleared her throat once more before looking back at herself in the mirror with her chin held higher and posture more demanding. "Your honor, I'm requesting a motion for dismissal under the pretenses of my client not being read his Miranda Rights at the time of arrest nor interrogation—,"

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips before she nodded in approval, doing a little dance. She'd been spending all evening getting her opening statement together, practicing what she was going to say and how she was going to say it.

With only a few days left until the beginning of what she was predicting to be a nasty trial, she was using any spare time she could to get her defense together. The media was beginning to go crazy with the historic details of the Sorvino family and all the different defendants being prosecuted under the RICO ACT— including Brandon.

"Self made millionaire and well known philanthropist, Brandon Valentino, among the nine to be prosecuted on Tuesday,"

Cerise turned away from the mirror to look at the TV at the mention of his name; a college graduation photo of his flashing on the screen briefly. Her brown eye twitched listening to the local news anchor speak of him so distastefully— as if he were a monster like the rest.

She picked the remote up, turning the mounted television up some, folding her arms across her chest as she listened. Hearing her phone ring from the other room, she set the remote down and ambled slowly to go get it. "Hellooooo," She sang, answering Brandon's FaceTime call as she plopped down onto the bed tummy first.

"Are you packing?" He questioned— shirtless in bed with his glasses on and a book spine down on his toned chest.

"No," Cerise peeped, trying not to laugh as she watched his face take on a scowl.

"Have you started packing at all?"

Cerise pursed her lips together to keep from smiling as she shook her head no once more. "I'm watching the news— they're talking about you actually,"

"Yes I've heard. The organization I donated to for the philanthropy gala is refunding the donations I've made now," Brandon snickered, seemingly unbothered.

"How does that make you feel— what everyone is saying," Cerise asked curiously, propping her chin up in the palm of her hand, her elbow digging into the mattress as she held the phone up with the other.

Brandon took a second before shrugging meekly. "I don't care too much, that's why I don't watch it— the news that is," He answered, his tone nonchalant. "How much longer until you will be finished?" He asked, changing the conversation.

"Like an hour,"

The corners of Brandon's lips turned down making Cerise giggle. "I'll be quick I promise!" She exclaimed, small giggles escaping her lips.

"You left five hours ago, what have you been doing?" Brandon questioned, slightly irritated that she was taking so long. He missed her presence already.

"I was writing and practicing my defense. I got side tracked— I'm sorry," She said softly with a small pout to her lips.

"Be ready in an hour because I'm coming to get you— I miss you," Brandon instructed.