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I managed to keep my voice level as checked around the corridor and saw Paley standing over near security, talking to one of the guards. I said, “Look...look at his face. His jowls. His skin. How he...he...he’s even got bitch tits...”“What?” she snapped.
I smiled and almost chuckled, feeling more in control. “Moobs, if you prefer. The way his nipples are more like a woman’s than a man’s.”
“How do you know this?” She was all but disparaging.
“Pay attention! I told you! He was in a tight athletic t-shirt. A wife-beater. And his muscles, they’re blown up like balloons. I got the feeling if I stuck them with a pin, they’d pop.”
Walstead forced a chuckle. “C’mon, man, don’t you gay guys go crazy for muscles? And you did approach him.”
“It wasn’t his muscles I liked. It was his profile. The way he was standing...the image he made...”
Such a lovely image. The light rushing down from above, a bit behind him. Gleaming over the rear of his head and his back and ass. Highlighting the flow of them. With his profile in silhouette against that soft mist, just past him. The rest of him in shadow. That’s what stopped me. I’d seen his moobs and puffy jowls in the store and shown no interest, but seeing him posed like that...with those things hidden by the streaks of darkness...I wanted to capture it in pen and ink.
I’d snuck a photo of him when I exited...
That was still on my phone...
Yes...it was...
I opened it and went into photos. Scrolled through to find him. Right there, looking so elegant and welcoming and should have just used that instead of wanting him to model and...
“Is that him?”
It was Walstead’s voice, and it shook me. For a moment I’d forgotten where I was, and in truth I hadn’t wanted him to see it. But too late, now.
I nodded.
Manville also got a look at it and in her sneering voice said, “Nice. Small wonder you were thinking of ravaging him.”
I laughed. No surprise she was resorting to stereotypes to make a point. But still, “Don’t be ridiculous. If you’ve really done research about me, you’d have seen I’ve done a number of illustrations for book jackets and this would’ve worked well, as one.”
Walstead almost chuckled. “Book covers? What about this?” He held up the printout.
Of course. Like a dog with a bone. All I could say was, “This is why people like you should never try to discuss something about which they know nothing.”
He actually almost growled. “We can still use this artwork against you.”
Manville smiled. “They show inclination and maybe even intent.”
I looked at her in awe. I’d actually thought she was the smart one. Instead, she’s the worst aspect of a team player; even though she knows what they’re doing is wrong, Walstead’s made his decision and she will back him up. Like a dutiful wife or victim of abuse.
I sighed and said, “I’ll give you a list of the work I’ve illustrated. They’re on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books a Million, and available for order through your local independent book dealer.”
“You’re pretty cavalier about what these could do to you, in that courtroom,” Walstead said. His voice had an edge to it. Obviously, his attempt at intimidation wasn’t working.
“Again, pay attention. My name is on every coloring book and listed as illustrator for a dozen titles. Google me as an artist and the first one that usually comes up is The Best Way to Make a Straight Man Gay. It’s been banned a few times. People thought it was a how-to manual.”
Elissa tried to keep her voice snotty and mean, but I could sense surprise behind it. “It’s not?”
“Another reason you should read the work for yourself.” I turned back to Walstead, smiling, “I’ve posted some of my shorter poetry on the gay sites, as well. I just wrote one little ditty that would fit you perfectly. How’s this?”
Big bad boy Paley decided to gloat
That he’d seen how Walstead would quietly dote
On him walking by, so he sneered to quote,
“Y’know, it’s not sex if I cum down your throat.”
Walstead stiffened and I think he was close to hitting me. Instead, he just snarled, “I’m not gay.”
“So you say.” Then I put my portfolio in my backpack.
“Simon,” he said, his voice low and growling, “if we don’t deal, here and now, I’m aiming for jail time.”
“You will address me as Mr. Harper!”
“I mean it. Six months, thanks to the special enhancement. Thousand dollar fine.”
I rose, laptop in one hand, and slung the backpack over my shoulder, saying, “It amazes me that you graduated from Harvard Law, never mind passed the bar exam. And that is taking into account you were a legacy entrant. That school has lost all respect I had for it.”
Elissa circled me to return to Dillon’s side. “You’ve been doing your own research.”
“And it’s better than yours, obviously. Courtroom’s open. I’m going in. I prefer you both stay away from me.”
I crossed to the door, checked security but still no ReShawn, so showed the guard my driver’s license and a text on my phone. A reminder of the time and date for the trial. The guard passed me in.
Dillon and Elissa followed.
If they were going to call me by my first name, from now on I would call them by theirs. It’s petty, I know, but right now I’d take anything I could get.
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