Family Issues Ch. 13

"Futa-check. Threesome, check. Skinny dipping, check. Sex on an airplane, check. Sex with a futa, check. That was me. He was my first. The guy I gave my... He was my first, and I was a check box on his list. He's a futaphobe. Once he marked the check box, he started sleeping around behind my back."

"Bullshit! Mike likes the girls, that's true. He's got the charm and the looks. But you know what else is true? He'd rather slice his nuts off before he'd cheat on a friend. As for him being a futaphobe, that's just stupid."

"He is."

"Mike is the kind of guy I can call at two a.m. and tell him I'm stuck in Alaska, and he won't ask any questions. He'd jump on a plane."

"If he's so great, then how come Samantha saw him getting to third base with that French skank from the cafeteria? Huh? Two days after he told me he loved me so he could get inside my pants."

"Samantha Carter?"

"Yeah."

"She's the one who also told you he's a futaphobe?"

"Yeah." Ginger didn't sound so sure.

"Are you aware that the lying bitch was his girlfriend for two months after you dumped him?"

"She what, when?"

"Maybe you'd like to call her and ask her why she lied?"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"See, Kev. I tried to tell her."

"Yeah, I bet you did. Calling her Hitler and what not. Jesus, you're both so stupid. Mike, Ginger is representing Helen even though her boss threatened to fire her ass. I know how much that job means to her. She took Helen's case even though she was certain she'd lose. And she's not stupid, she's a talented lawyer. You should come to see her in court. Ginger, Mike told me not so long ago, and I quote, 'Ginger, I was so into her. I thought I'd found my one and only.' I've never heard Mike talk about any girl like that. And you know what else? It's not about a GPA or IQ, or if you draw a 100K salary or 200K. It's the people you care about. You two idiots, take it from me, because four years ago I lost two people that were everything, and no salary or brains can cure the pain I have to live with. I'm sure as hell not willing to let it to happen for the third time. So please..." He stared at Mike, daring him to say anything. Mike raised his hands, keeping his mouth zipped.

From the phone came Ginger's laborious breathing. "You really told Kevin I was your one and only, Mike?"

" I also told him that it took me no time to figure out we're a bad match."

"Your one and only and a bad match?"

"I'm Captain America, you're Hitler. Bad match."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. It's like talking to a brick wall." Kevin sighed. "What about the CCTV files?"

"Still downloading. It's gigs of footage."

"What do you mean your one and only?" Ginger's voice lost its hostility entirely. "Like with a ring, two kids, and a dog kind of thing?"

"Bad match, Hitler. Get it into your thick skull. Bad. Match. Under 'bad match' in the dictionary there's a picture of you and me."

"Kevin, when Mike said his one and only, what did he look like?"

"Sincere."

"Kev!" Mike snarled.

"What, bro?"

"You're not my friend anymore."

"Resignation denied. What about the files?"

"They're—Oh, fuck. I've been logged out."

"Log back in."

Mike shook his head. "They're onto us. One of their users who always uploaded files started downloading stuff. I've set the alarm bells; they're not that clueless, apparently."

"Do they know who we are?"

"I connected through a proxy, but they know where this user was installed. They might send someone to check."

"Fuck! I know who they'll send. Believe me, we don't want to be here when she arrives."

"I didn't get the footage."

"I have an idea."

"Why would you say something like that to Kevin?" Ginger was unfazed by the imminent danger. "You never told me you thought I was your one and only, Mike."

"I fucking hate you both."

–

"I was sitting at my desk, drinking coffee." Mr. Durham was a massively overweight man, one Hershey bar from obese. Black, bald, in his fifties. On the witness stand, he seemed like a shy child who wanted nothing more than to escape the situation back into his Fortnite game. "Then I received the call from Ms. Anderson."

"What time was that?" Ginger said.

"Around eight-thirty."

"What did she say?"

"That she was hiding in her office and she saw Helen Brion stab William with a knife. That I should hurry. She sounded terrified."

"What happened then?"

"Exactly what I said in my police testimony. I took the elevator up. It was faster than the stairs." He blushed. "I saw Helen attacking William with a knife. I pointed my gun at her and told her to back off. She screamed back at me that she was trying to save him. A few seconds later, the paramedics came because Ms. Anderson alerted the emergency services. The police came a few minutes later."

"Wait, wait, let's go back a little. You saw Helen attacking William with a knife? What did she do? Did she stab him repeatedly?"

"No."

"Then why did you say that she attacked him? Where were her hands?"

Mr. Durham chewed his own tongue when he was nervous. Ginger found it very annoying, so she tried focusing on the hairs coming out of his ear. "Uh... She held the hilt with one hand, and the other was, eh, on the blade."

"You can't stab someone with your hand on the blade. You'd cut your fingers."

"That's what she did."

"Where exactly did she touch the blade? Near the hilt?"

"No, farther down."

"Where it entered the body—she applied pressure where the knife entered the body."

"Yes."

Ginger nodded, smiling. "Because that's how you treat a knife wound. On the field, you never take the knife out. She stabilized it with one hand and put pressure on the wound with the other, around the blade. That's how you stop someone from bleeding."

"Maybe she pretended to stop the bleeding because I pointed the gun at her?"

"We don't deal in speculations regarding other people's thoughts in court. Just what you saw and your thoughts, Mr. Durham," Ginger said tenderly. "You said in your testimony that the victim's shirt was torn. Did you mean it was ripped, or torn due to the stabbing?"

"Ripped, like someone ripped it off."

"You mean, Helen ripped it?"

"Probably."

"And didn't you find it odd that after stabbing someone Helen took the time to rip off his shirt? I mean, why bother doing that unless she wanted to search for more wounds? Because that's exactly what you should do at a knife wound scene."

"Ma'am, in the heat of the moment, I had little time to think. I acted on instinct."

"You mean you acted on Ms. Anderson's phone call."

The tongue chewing increased tenfold. "I guess."

"Fair enough; no one judges you. You did the right thing." Ginger gave him her most reassuring smile. "Helen's phone was on the ground, and she was talking with someone when you entered the office, correct?"

"The emergency services."

"That couldn't have been a pretense. The defendant called them before you arrived on the scene."

"Yes."

"Now let's pretend that you came on the scene by mistake, without receiving Ms. Anderson's phone call first. Is it safe to assume you'd think Helen was trying to save William's life?"

"Probably yes."

"No further questions your honor."

–-

"I didn't pressure him on purpose, even when he said he saw Helen attacking William." Ginger's hands shook as she rinsed her face in the cooler water for the third time. At court, she looked as fresh as the next beautiful weather girl, but every time she came out of the session, she breathed like she had just completed a marathon. "I wanted Durham on my side. I didn't want to alienate him."

"You were brilliant back there," Kevin had his eyes on the stairs, which Helen was supposed to come up. The jail had made a blunder this morning, and she was late to court. It took several angry phone calls from Ginger to fix. "I'm so glad I had the balls to call you."

"Really?"

"You nailed it, Ginger. You gave the jury something to think about."

"Thanks. It means a lot."

He once thought like Mike, that Ginger was a calculating, confident, selfish bitch. The past year had taught him that nobody wears shades of either black or white. He eyed her carefully and saw a beautiful girl, fighting her own demons and insecurities.

"What's in the duffel bag, Kev?"

"I've cooked stuff that Helen loves. She looked so thin last time, like they don't feed her. I thought you might slip it to her. Maybe. Please? I'll bribe whomever it takes."

"They'll never let me."

"It was worth a shot."

Ginger swiped more water. "Fuck, I'm sweating like a hog."

"Nah, you look great. I like what you've done with your hair."

She gave a faint smile. "I dyed back to my original ginger color. I'm done being a fake blond. That's the real me. Carrot-top Jenny from da Bronx."

"I'm sorry that things got so ugly between you two, but you shouldn't let Mike get under your skin."

"Mike is okay. I've hurt him more than I realized, and for something he didn't even do. We talked and... Fuck, okay, Mike is awesome."

Mike chose that moment to show his smiling mug. He strutted into the court's hallway swiveling his hips like a cat-walk model. "Mike is ready to lock and load and testify the ass out of the jury. Whaddaya think about the costume, Kev?"

Kevin stared at him, eyes wide and mouth open. Speechless.

Mike wore a suit. Jacket, grey trousers, white shirt, waistcoat, pocket square, and a soft blue tie. Nothing to write home about except that it was Mike. You wouldn't catch Mike in a suit even if you'd promised a threesome with Scarlett Johansen and Emma Stone. He wore fake glasses and had shaved for once. The most astounding alteration lay on top. His trademark, Mike's long dreads, were gone. Sheared. He wore a clean butch cut instead.

"Whaddya think?"

"I like the straight un-wasted vibe. Brings out the dork in your eyes. Just one question."

"Shoot!"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Funny. I'm doing it for Helen, so you like owe me favors for the rest of your life." Mike loosened his tie. "Shoot, I feel like an idiot."

"But you look tight." Ginger danced forward and straightened his tie, then gave him a peck on his cheek. "Wow, Mike, I'm speechless."

"Mike, may he rest in peace, was a cool cat." Mike made the sign of the cross. "He used to play in a band that was all about social justice. This scarecrow is Michael. The douche who sold his soul to conservatism. Might as well join the Tea Party and start hash-tagging, was fun for me too."

"No one gives a crap about your soul." Ginger pulled Mike's tie and, in front of Kevin's astounded eyes, conquered his lips with a French kiss. Mike didn't resist. In fact, he locked his hands around her slender neck and pulled her for another long kiss when she was done.

"What the fuck?" Kevin finally found his voice.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? I fell through a hole in reality, and I'm in a parallel universe. I just saw you guys kiss. You're...? You're back together!"

"It makes it easier to fight."

"When did that happen? Wait, wait, time out, Mike. Every night this week you that didn't return to the dorms. You told me you were sleeping at some friend's place."

Ginger smiled like a cat caught with its paw dipped inside the fishbowl. "He lied. He barely slept. Very little sleeping was involved."

"Gross."

Ginger sucked on her finger and cleaned the lipstick she'd left on Mike's face.

"What about your, 'We're a bad match' speech?"

"Meh." Mike waved his hand in dismissal. "Matching is overrated."

–-

"I've just received an email from you, Your Honor," Mike beamed.

Judge Henley squinted his eyes. "Really?"

"Yep, I'll read it. People reflecting about our law system might think of TV shows like Suits, or Law & Order or Boston Legal. But actually, it's more like Lost."

People sniggered, and even the judge cracked a smile. "Very clever of me, and surprising, considering my Sent Items box is empty."

"Nonetheless." Mike showed him his laptop. "Your Honor, I can make you send any email I want to, to any recipient I feel like. For example, I can make you send an email telling me to launch Destiny Mall, and you'll never be the wiser."

Michael D'Angelo, the conservative security expert with an array of bombastic acronyms attached to his title (he took a test for Amazon AWS and several other lesser known companies a week before his testimony), and owner of M&GB Cyber Security (Ginger and Mike registered the company a few days earlier, M&GB stood for Mike & Ginger, Bullshit), gave brilliant testimony in court. He took the jury by the hand, explaining in simple terms how the NBI5 key-logger worked.

He brought his laptop to court. Using his natural style, charm, and wit, he demonstrated, with the device found in Helen's apartment, how to hack into the court's system. As a final stroke, he sent a fake email to himself from Judge Henley's account. The jury's male part was impressed. The female part wanted to adopt him; the younger ones wanted to have his kids.

All that was left was Larry's cross-examination.

"It's a bit confusing." Larry began pacing but then remembered that Judge Henley hated melodrama. "My esteemed colleague received a search warrant for the defendant's apartment a few hours ago, and already you've managed to search it, find this, this..."

"NBI5 key-logger." Mike had his half innocent, half rascal smile on. Girls loved it; boys, not so much.

"And so quickly concluded that it was used to hack the defendant's home PC."

"Was there a question?" Mike said.

"I'm just a bit confused, Mr. D'Angelo."

"Does it happen a lot?" Mike appeared genuinely interested. "You, feeling confused?"

Larry didn't like cocky kids with an attitude. "I've read the FBI reports. There is nothing about a dongle spying device thing on the defendant's computer."

"The NBI5 key-logger has two modules. The box I found in Helen's apartment, and a dongle, similar to the one I've attached to the court's PC. This particular key-logger is useless without its counterpart."

"But the FBI didn't find one on the defendant's home computer."

Mike turned his head in Helen's direction and winked, earning a grin.

"Please tell me why you're so certain Helen's PC had a spying module when the FBI found nothing."

Mike gave the prosecutor a blank stare. "That's for the FBI to explain. It was there at some point. People buy expensive wiretapping equipment for one reason."

"There were other computers in that house."

"Kevin's laptop?"

Larry nodded. "A possibility."

"You mean someone bought the NBI5 to spy on a computer science student?"

"It's still a possibility."

Mike snorted. "Maybe they needed help with calculus?"

"It's—"

"Or maybe they wanted to know where you can pick up the hottest girls on campus? It's on the law school faculty's lawn, hands down, in case you were wondering." Mike beamed in Ginger's direction. She sent him a discreet air kiss when no one was watching.

"I wouldn't know," Larry said. "Unlike you, when I was in law school I did this strange thing called studying."

"And I'd say I believe you excelled at it, only I'm under oath, so I can't."

Larry reached a boiling point, which was good, because Mike's testimony had several holes. "No further questions, Your Honor."

–-

"Ms. Anderson," Court Ginger reminded Kevin of a hawk. Focused and aimed. Dangerous. "How long have you been a real estate analyst?"

"Almost twenty years now."

"She was the senior analyst, but she's also fifteen years younger than you. Was it difficult working under her?"

"Quite the contrary." Marianne's smile oozed confidence. If the Ginger hawk intimidated her, none of it surfaced. "It makes me proud when one of us girls make it in this world, despite the prejudice that sadly still exists everywhere."

"Ms. Anderson, where were you employed before Richardson and Williams?"

"Brian Dunn Real Estate Services."

"You weren't promoted to a senior analyst at Brian Dunn, right?"

"No."

"Was it because of 'the prejudice that sadly still exists everywhere'?" If Marianne hoped pressing Ginger's futanari sisterhood buttons might earn her points, then that strategy failed utterly.

"Brian Dunn filed for bankruptcy. I'd only been there for a year."

"I know. There was some sort of embezzlement claims. Someone from the inside stole the company's money and used the company to launder drug money. Sound familiar?"

"There was an investigation, but no charges were pressed." Marianne suddenly looked like she wished she could be elsewhere.

"Ms. Anderson, where were you employed prior to Brian Dunn?"

"Various real estate firms."

"I'll refresh your memory." Ginger zeroed in on the juicy rabbit and was waiting for the right moment. "Colony Capital. You worked there for two years until the company died; bankruptcy again. A fraud investigation—"

"Objection, Your Honor, irrelevant." Larry looked like he was ready to burst into tears.

"Really?" Judge Henley raised his eyebrows. "You can't see how it's relevant?"

"Thank you, your honor," Ginger dimpled. "Colony Capital had its capital stolen."

"I had nothing to do with it!" Marianne's voice cracked.

"But the police interrogated you. Why?"

Mike poked Kevin's ribcage. "Isn't she the hottest?" he whispered. "I can watch her bully people all day."

"You mean, Hitler?"

"First time I heard her sing, I knew she was the one. She sounds like Adele."

"Last week you wanted to tar and feather her."

"That's so last week, Kev, get over it."

"You said she eats souls for breakfast.

"I'm a complex person, I'm an onion like Shrek. I have multiple layers."

"And they're all the same."

"Pretty much."

"Before Colony Capital, you worked for Jonathan Woodner Holdings." Ginger was in full swing. "Another job terminated by your employer's bankruptcy. Before Woodner Holdings, you worked as an analyst for Kraft Real Estate Group. It didn't file for bankruptcy, but there was a fraud investigation. The owner claimed Mafiosi blackmailed his personnel and robbed the company." Ginger let the information torrent sink. "Do you believe you're jinxed, Ms. Anderson? Or can you offer another explanation why every company you've worked for during the past six years was investigated for blackmail and theft through dummy corporations?"

"Objection, argumentative."

"I withdraw the question." Ginger held out printouts which she gave the jury and Marianne. "Presenting exhibit 76C, a text message I obtained from the victim's mobile service provider. The text was sent from the defendant's phone on November the sixth. I'll read it now." Ginger paused, waiting for a second for the whispering to die down. 'William, our company is under attack. It may sound imaginary, but criminal elements have planted employees in our firm. They plan to steal and have already stolen funds using dummy corporations. Destiny Mall is a land fraud, it's a fake project. We must prevent its launch at the meeting today.' The defendant continues and lists the people she suspects are part of the conspiracy. Among them, the missing board member, Suzan Owens, and the current CFO, also missing, Alan Mason. Now, Ms. Anderson, can you explain why your name is on that list?"

"Who knows what goes inside a criminal mind?" Marianne smirked. "Helen needed to shift the blame, so she tried to blindside William."

"And failed. William was on to her plans, so Helen murdered him?"

"Obviously."

"That night, according to your testimony, you saw him yell at her in his office."

"I stand by that testimony."

Ginger lowered her voice and smiled sweetly. "Because he didn't buy into her wild accusations?"

"Obviously."

"Well, on the victim's desk, on the night of the murder, the police found five letters of dismissal. Please observe exhibits 54a to 54e. Dismissal letters, effective immediately, for every person mentioned in the defendant's text message, including Ms. Marianne Anderson. There's one name missing from the stack. Can you guess which one, Ms. Anderson?"