Sin & Savior

CHAPTER 8, PART 2

"No retainer necessary; your mother has been a friend of the firm for a very long time. Just leave the preliminary investigative work to my team, and if there's a case we can build, we'll communicate an affordable rate with you at that time, or—more likely—handle things based on a percentage of the final judgment amount of the lawsuit. I'm not fond of allowing financial burdens to impede upon the structure of civil justice. We'll make them pay for what they've done to your brother, alright?" smiled the short, dry, blonde-haired woman before her.

"Thank you so much, Vivienne," said Seraphina, having been formerly introduced by her mother. She shook her hand and headed toward her mother, with a thank you in her eyes and a kiss on her lips—one she'd planted squarely upon her mother's cheek.

"I'm going to head out now and meet with Ricky. Thank you for letting me spend the night," she said, ignoring her mother's previous statement about it being her home as well.

"Drive safely, and text me whenever you're ready to go and see Alexander. I'll get ready now while you're out."

"Alright, Mom. Will do...byyye!" she said, waving at her as she walked backward toward the car, clanging her keys. Once she'd climbed inside, taken a deep breath, and settled into her seat, reality dawned on her. Broderick had asked to meet with her at his house instead of her own—something she didn't want to do considering the last conversation they'd had there—but she wanted answers, and if meeting at his house was the only way to get them, then there is where she would go.

As she pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, she couldn't help but feel unsettled butterflies trying to rise from out of the nerves in her stomach and into her throat. What he'd asked her to do the day before wasn't insignificant by any stretch of the imagination. Even as a prank, it was unacceptable behavior within the constraints of their relationship, but the potential implications beyond it, having been the word-vomited byproduct of an anxious man-child's abject inability to control his emotional atmosphere, were enormous.

If something happened, she would never forgive herself for becoming so intoxicated that she'd lost control that way. But even this would be a dramatic departure from her nature. She hardly ever had more than three drinks, irrespective of the size or stature of the party; her propensity for athleticism and performance wouldn't let her drink anything but vodka or tequila straight in order to keep her calories down and cut out any unnecessary sugars from her diet, and she almost always had significant amounts of water afterward. In two years of drinking, she'd never known herself to have had a hangover or blanked out with no recall or memory of the night before. One thing was certain: Broderick would answer for last weekend's events, or lose access to her permanently. She was tired of being the apple of his eye and the devil amid his details.

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"You aren't explaining ANYTHING there is to be explained, because you'd rather focus on your second brain, and when you ARE telling me what I'd like to know, the details aren't lining up at all! Like the fact that you took me to your house that night, but I drove Alexander and me to the party. So how did my car wind up at home already when Alex asked me if he'd gotten into a car accident on his way back when he woke up in the hospital? Alexander does not drive, Broderick. And my car was JUST fine where it was sitting. A better question is: how on earth did Alexander find his way back home after that party when nobody else knows his address except me if he was anywhere close to being as drunk as you claimed he was when you hit him? How dare you put your hands on my little fucking brother, Ricky!" she said, hitting him in his chest. "But you don't like it when somebody does it to you!" she screamed as he fought to catch her hands and block himself from her assault.