“Can you believe that fight last night?” Romeo asked as he walked up to me and Madison, Kamiko at his side.

Eye roll.

“Fight?” Madison asked, looking between me and Romeo. “What fight? Between you and Christos?” she gasped. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

I bugged my eyes at both of them. “Geez, you guys are worse than the National Enquirer! Christos and I didn’t have a fight. And, Romeo, stop being such a dramaholic!”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “I almost had my face bashed in by the jock squad last night.”

“Wait,” interrupted Madison. She looked at me pointedly. “What does the jock squad have to do with you calling me in the middle of the night asking where Christos was?”

Romeo, Kamiko, and Madison raised their eyebrows in tandem. They stared at me, dumbfounded.

“Don’t hold out on us, Sam!” Romeo demanded. “If you have secrets, you have to share.”

“That’s what I said,” Madison said, folding her arms across her chest. “Spill it bitch!”

“Fish tacos!” I cried.

Madison frowned, “That’s not an answer,”

“Look!” I pointed and everyone turned to look at nothing. I considered running away while they were distracted, but luckily, we’d made it to the front of the line and it was time to order. I was spared further accusatory looks from my friends. For a few precious minutes, anyway. After everyone had their food, we carried our trays outside to an empty table.

“Well?” Romeo asked me after everyone sat down. “We’re waiting to hear all about your fight with Christos.”

My fish taco was halfway to my face when I said. “Reel it in, Rumor Romeo. There was no fight.”

“Then what’s the story, Sam?” Romeo asked. “We all want to know what we missed.”

I scoffed. “You were the one who spent the night in Hillcrest with the vomit squad. Care to tell us about that?”

“Gladly,” Romeo smiled. “It all started when I met this guy outside The Brass Rail, down in Hillcrest.”

“What’s The Brass Rail?” Kamiko asked.

“A gay bar in Hillcrest,” Romeo answered. “Anyway, the vomit guy was—”

Madison cringed. “Can we table that discussion until after I’ve finished eating and digesting? Maybe after Winter Quarter is over or sometime next year?”

“I second that,” Kamiko grimaced. “I don’t need to know any more about Romeo’s alternative lifestyle than I already do.”

I would’ve gladly endured Romeo’s graphic tale if it meant taking the heat off of my back.

The three of them stared at me.

If I couldn’t tell my closest friends about my problems, who could I? Wasn’t that part of what friends were for? To help you deal with your problems when you needed it? But how would Christos feel if I told the gang all about his trial? It’s not like he’d willingly told me about it. I’d had to drag it out of him word by word. I contemplated waiting until Romeo and Kamiko were gone and just telling Madison. She seemed more leak proof than Rumor Romeo. I wasn’t worried about Kamiko, but she and Romeo were practically attached at the hip. I secretly believed that if neither of them ever met their one true love, they’d eventually move in together and live like spinsters.

“We’re waiting,” Romeo said, chewing on his fish taco.

Screw it. They were my friends. They had a right to know. “Okay, but you guys have to promise to keep this a secret,” I said.

“Oooh! Secrets! I love secrets!” Romeo cooed.

“I’m serious,” I growled. “You can’t tell anybody. This is a big deal. No fooling around. Especially you, Romeo. You. Can’t. Tell. Anybody.”

Madison and Kamiko turned to glare at Romeo.

“What, you guys?” he whined. “I’ve never spread gossip about any of you three and you know it, or my name isn’t Romeo Fabiano!”

“You mean Elmo?” I chided.

“Who’s Elmo?” Madison asked, confused.

Romeo looked distinctly embarrassed.

I arched an eyebrow at Romeo. “You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours. Deal?”

“Deal,” he nodded.

“Christos has to go to court on Friday,” I said.

“Court?” Romeo blurted.

“Friday?” Madison said. “That’s on Valentine’s Day!”

“I know,” I groaned.

“Why does he have to go to court?” Kamiko asked.

“Because he got in a fight.”

“So?” Madison shrugged. “Guys get in fights all the time.”

“Yeah,” Romeo said, “I bet nothing is going to happen to those rugby buttplugs from last night.”

“Rugby buttplugs?” Madison asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Romeo said. “Right now we need to hear all about Christos’ court date.” Romeo sucked on his soda straw like he was in the middle of a movie theater watching a juicy drama.

I sighed and said, “He hasn’t really told me much—”

Bitch…

“I just know he punched a guy out—”

Slut…

“—and I think it happened the day I met him.”

Whore…

Oh my god. That was it! Christos punching that fat guy who’d yelled at me! That had to be why he was going to court. Why hadn’t I seen it sooner? And why hadn’t Christos told me? I was a witness and I could help!

“What, Sam?” Madison asked. “You look like you just swallowed some bad sushi.”

“I think I just figured it out!” I shouted.

“What?” Romeo asked, on the edge of his seat, clutching his soda.

“I saw it!”

“Saw what?” Kamiko begged.

“I was there when Christos punched that guy! I’m the only other person who knows he started it! I have to call him right now!”

“You’re losing us,” Madison said, looking confused.

I whipped my phone out and dialed Christos. It started ringing. To the gang, I said, “I can help Christos win his trial! I saw everything!” Christos’ phone went to voicemail. Damn. He was probably still in court. “Christos, you have to call me right now. It’s about the trial. I was there! I can help.” I hung up and texted him the same information. With any luck, he’d at least look at his phone and call me.

I just hoped it wasn’t too late for me to be a witness for his trial.

CHRISTOS

“Are you saying that whatever we tell the judge today is what we have to say in the trial on Friday?” I asked Russell while we walked into the courtroom.

“Yes,” Russell said as we sat down behind the defense table. “The judge gave us several months to get all our shit in order so there won’t be any surprises on Friday. She’s assuming that by now we’ve turned over every stone there is to turn.”

There was still one stone nobody had turned. But I’d resolved to keep Samantha safely out of this mess from the beginning. It was my problem to deal with, not hers. “Got it,” I said.

Russell pulled a laptop and several folders out of his briefcase while I looked around.

Everything in the room was wood paneled in dark tones or upholstered in muted grays. The color palette of serious business. It almost made court seem like the hip place to be. Chuckle.

At least the pre-trial would be short. Things would get serious in two days when the actual trial commenced. For now, I could entertain myself by studying inconsequential details like the color of the chairs.

The Deputy District Attorney was already at the prosecutor’s table with two young assistants, the three of them going through files and murmuring softly about how they were going to hang my ass up on a spike.

The jury box was empty, as were the benches in the spectator gallery. No TV crews or reporters were present either. Nobody came out to watch pre-trials unless it was newsworthy. A one punch fight between two random citizens didn’t qualify.

Russell turned to me and said quietly, “Once the judge walks in, the D.A. is going to lay out the basic framework he intends to present on Friday, then I’ll lay out our proposed defense. We tell the judge up front about all the evidence and witnesses that we plan to bring into the trial. If we’re lucky, and Judge Moody feels like the D.A. has a weak case, she may dismiss it right here on the spot. If that happens, you’re a free man. If not, we step into the ring on Friday.”