"Let me see if I understand this. I plead not guilty, then I have a trial, and maybe you get me off. Does this mean that I'm tainted for the rest of my life? Will everyone point at me and say, 'He's the guy who beat the porn rap'?"
"Anything's possible. This case has already attracted quite a bit of news coverage. A trial would be a media free-for-all. That's why I would prefer to reach an arrangement with the prosecutor."
"Which means I plead guilty?"
"Maybe, it depends on the deal. For today, stick with not guilty." Constance reached into her oversized handbag and pulled out a shirt, folded up and neat. "And since you look like you've been living in that shirt, I brought you a clean one. Light blue, matches your eyes." She smiled, wondering if she should have added that last part. "And here's an electric razor, too. Get cleaned up. We're going into court soon."
"Do you bring extra clothes for all of your clients?"
It's so strange to be sitting here discussing his clothing. Constance found it difficult to act like an attorney while erotic dreams of her client played in her head. She wrestled with the arousal that was building, just staring into his amazing blue eyes.
She forced her thoughts aside and answered his question. "Yes, our defense group has a supply of clothes for our clients. When the hearing is over, I'll have the shirt cleaned and ready for someone else."
Nick suddenly darkened. "How about this? Keep your shirt. I'm not kissing the ass of a system that's rigged against me. I'm screwed no matter what I do, so let's stop pretending."
Constance groaned. "Don't be a fool. The 'system' you talk about is made of people, and those people care about your appearance and your attitude. I know it looks bad. That's why I want you to take every advantage." She threw her hands in the air and let them fall to the table. Why did she always have to explain these things to her clients? She picked up the razor and set it closer to him. "Just do it for me."
Nick got up slowly, staring at her the entire time. His eyes burned, but she couldn't say why. Whatever it was, it sliced straight through her, down to her foundation. She stared him down and waited.
With his mouth scrunched tight, he scooped the razor from the table. She pointed to a mirror on the side of the room, and he went to shave. When he was finished, he squinted at the mirror. "This is one of those two-way mirrors, right?" He leaned into it and shouted, "I'm innocent! Fuck you for ruining my life." He flipped a finger at the mirror.