When I was half way around the swimming pool and out of ear shot from the house, I answered. “What up, Russell?”

“Christos! How are you enjoying freedom, son?”

“Freedom rocks,” I joked.

“Yes it does. I’m somewhat inclined to it myself.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “The good news for you is, if you’re smart, you can enjoy as much freedom as your heart desires. All you have to do is stay out of trouble. You think you can do that?”

“I can give it a shot,” I chuckled.

“Don’t shoot anything,” he laughed, “just stay out of trouble. As in, no fighting. Feel me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I sighed.

“I’m serious, son. No fights. As in, none. Zero. Nada.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “Man, you’re as subtle as brass knuckles.”

His voice turned humorous again. Russell was never long on lecturing. “I don’t want you crying to me on the phone at three in the morning, waking my ass up to tell me that you’re in the can again. I need my beauty rest,” he laughed.

Russell always put me in a good mood. Not only was he a badass attorney, he was the nicest guy. “You know, you’re pretty cool for an old dude,” I said sarcastically.

“Watch your mouth,” he said with good humor, “I can still whup your ass, young man.”

“What, you trying to get me in more fights?”

“I won’t press charges, so it’s okay. And I will kick your ass into next year if I find out you’ve so much as given someone a dirty look.”

“All right, all right,” I smiled. “No fighting. So what’s so pressing you had to call me so late in the day? Shouldn’t you be relaxing behind a bloody steak at the Yard House by now?” I gazed at ruby clouds glowing in front of the golden sun hovering above the Pacific Ocean. My grandad’s house had the best damn view.

“My dinner has been delayed because your pal Hunter Blakeley may have a valid claim against you, my boy. It turns out, he does in fact do a fair amount of modeling, and his broken nose has been costing him jobs.”

I shook my head. I should’ve known Hunter was a total pussy. “What, does the prick want? A bunch of plastic surgery or some shit?”

“That’s putting it lightly. He also wants lost wages and substantial pain and suffering. You should see the bills his attorney is sending me for the high class shrinks Hunter Blakeley has been visiting.”

“Shrinks?” I rolled my eyes. “Why, because he has PTSD after the vicious beating I gave him?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

I sighed, “Do you have any good news?”

“I’m brimming over with good news,” Russell joked, “I’m the Santa Claus of good news.”

“Well?”

“I need the contact information of your friend Jake. I need to get his deposition and add it into the mix. Also, I’ve got people talking to the Hooters wait staff, see if they can corroborate your story that Hunter was in cahoots with three friends.”

“Of course he was.”

“Not according to his statement. He’s making it sound like his friends watched the incident from a block away while you roughed up poor Hunter.”

“Fuck. His buddies were ready to jump in until I put Hunter in his place. The guy is a total liar.”

“A liar he may be, but if I can’t prove he’s whistling Dixie on the stand, the jury is going to have a hard time believing your side of things. Remember, this isn’t a criminal trial, where the prosecution has to convince the jury beyond all reasonable doubt that you’re guilty. This is a civil trial. If Hunter’s attorney can convince the jury that it’s 51% likely that you’re at fault, instead of an even fifty-fifty, they will rule against you. That’s not much elbow room for us. Even if I present the greatest defense of all time, Hunter’s case need only be one percent more convincing than ours, and you’re gonna end up having to pay damages. And right now, Hunter’s attorney is asking for your left nut on top of all the other damages.”

“Maybe we can send him my left nut and call it even,” I grinned.

Russell chuckled, “Last time I checked, the nut market is in a recession, and you won’t get a quarter of what you’re hoping for.”

“Fine. I keep my nut and you win my case. Deal?”

“I’ll do my best. But I’d start looking into prosthetic testicles. I hear you can hardly tell the difference,” Russell laughed.

“Thanks, man. You’re all heart.”

“Don’t worry, son. I’ll take care of this. I’ve got plenty of people looking into things. We’ll track down Hunter’s friends and drag the truth out of them with pliers and tongs.”

“You do that.”

“I’ll have more good news the next time we talk,” Russell said. “Oh, and one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

“No. More. Fights.”

“I hear you loud and clear.”

“Then my job is done. Now, I have a steak waiting for me with my name on it. I’ve got to run. Bye.”

“Later, man.” I ended the call. While I felt fortunate to have Russell watching my back, as always, his expert services weren’t going to be cheap. At the rate things were going, I was going to run out of money before this case was over.

Too bad I’d destroyed that painting of Isabella. I could’ve gotten at least ten grand for it.

Whatever.

Stanford Wentworth had been right. That painting was a piece of shit. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.

I walked inside to join everyone.

Maybe Samantha’s parents could cheer me up.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

SAMANTHA

“Does anybody need a refill on their lemonade?” Spiridon asked.

Everyone, including Christos, was standing in the kitchen.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” my dad said as he looked at his watch, “but with the three hour time difference, I’m starving. Are you ready to eat, Linda? Remember, we still need to stop by Motel 6 to get our luggage at some point.”

My mom sighed heavily. “Sure.”

She sounded so happy to be here. The feeling was mutual.

“Is there a Cheesecake Factory around here somewhere?” my dad asked.

Leave it to my parents to fly across the country and eat at the same chain restaurant they always went to back home. Their sense of adventure made Christopher Columbus look like a homebody. Not.

“Yeah,” Christos said, “I think there’s one near Hotel Circle.”

“That’s near our motel,” my dad beamed. “We can kill two birds with one stone and get our luggage after dinner.”

Dad could kill three birds with one stone if he smashed me over the head and put me out of my misery.

Then an idea hit me. “Why don’t we invite my friends?” I suggested. “Then you can meet all the cool people I’ve met in San Diego!”

“I was thinking it would just be you, your mother, and I,” Dad said soberly.

“I agree with your father,” my mom said.

I knew what they were thinking. They wanted to corner me and berate me for being an idiot until I changed my major back to Accounting.

It wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ll text everybody right now,” I said, undeterred. I invited Madison, Jake, Romeo, and Kamiko. I’d gotten Jake’s contact info, as well as Spiridon’s, after Christos’ trial. I hated not being able to reach people in an emergency.

I briefly considered asking Christos to invite Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse. I was pretty sure her and my mom would bond over their bitchery. In the end, I decided we could do without her. No surprise there.

I pressed send and crossed my fingers that everyone would be able to join us. If they all showed up, I’d be like the quarterback in a football game with all the offensive linemen protecting me from my parents. I wasn’t going to let them blindside me. No way.

When we walked out to the driveway, my parents headed toward their rental car.

“Sam,” my dad asked, “are you coming with your mother and I?”

“I think I’ll ride with Christos and Spiridon,” I said. Did I sound snarky? Only a little.