"State your name."
"Shanice Brown, Your Honor."
After all the preliminary blah, blah, blah type stuff he asked, "You understand why you're here, Miss Brown?"
Actually, she had no idea, so she responded with an honest, "No, your honour."
Then the judge proceeded to give her a scathing set down for something she hadn't even done, all while acknowledging she indeed hadn't done anything. What the hell kind of sense did that make? The portly fellow wrapped himself in an extra layer of condescension as he described the luxuries and privileges to be had in jail—snarky bastard—and advise on how a woman "her age" could avoid these kinds of situations. Right.
Boiling mad, and none too embarrassed, Shanice bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, fighting to keep a stranglehold on her emotions. Lord, if she opened her mouth something in the smart-aleck department would escape and make the situation worse.
"Okay, let's get down to it." The judge's impatience crackled in the air. "The charges against you are..."
"Excuse me. Massimo Buzzeo, attorney at law. I'll be representing Ms Brown. I apologize for being late, your honour. I was just made aware of Miss Brown situation." The voice came from the back of the courtroom followed by the cadence of determined footsteps.
Aw, hell. She recognized that voice.
Shanice's head swung around. Her mouth dropped open the moment her gaze stuck itself to that of the most handsome man she'd ever seen walking around the Expedex offices these past few months. Though they worked for the same company, they didn't work in the same department. In fact, they were seldom on the same floor, thank god. All Shanice really knew about this man was the effect he had on the goofball females of the company. It seemed that any woman walking down the hall at the same time as him fell under some ridiculous spell. After he passed they fanned themselves, made little "mmm" sounds, and giggled like children.
