Vain (The Seven Deadly, #1)(15)
“You,” a burly guard with bright red hair said pointing to the lone man. “You’ve been reassigned. You should be in Courtroom C now.” Of course.
“Oh, so sorry,” the man offered. He stood and gave me a half smile.
I wanted to vomit at the butterflies that gave me. Worry. You could see it in his eyes. Thick strain seemed to bulge the walls in all its sensationalism. It crawled over my body and settled heavily on my heart.
Pembrook called me to his table and sat me in a leather swivel chair. The animal skin ground against my own, cold and stiff to touch. The cumbersome weight of unease in the room settled over me with a finality that choked.
“All rise,” the bailiff said, surprising me from my thoughts. I looked up just in time to see Reinhold walk into the room. Doomed. “This court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Francis Reinhold presiding.”
Judge Reinhold refused to look my direction. “What’s on the docket today, Sam?” he asked the bailiff.
He meant “chopping block.” Reinhold knew.
“Your Honor, case one this morning is Price vs. the city of Los Angeles.”
Reinhold finally met my face with zero expression, but his eyes were calculating, measuring, assessing.
“Are you ready?” Reinhold asked my attorney and the prosecutor.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Pembrook said.
The prosecutor nodded her head with a single, “Yes.”
The door to the courtroom groaned open in that moment and in stepped three people I would have paid not to have step through. My father and mother moved to sit on the bench I had sat just minutes earlier, giving off the impression they had somewhere else they really needed to be but the real jest, it seemed, was Officer Casey in all his youthful, handsome glory and his countenance spoke volumes of hate, lust, anger, and want.
He earned a brief glance from me and that earned myself a cruel smile in return. I kept my gaze on him, leaned imperceptibly his direction, lightly touched the tip of my tongue to the top of my teeth, smiled effortlessly and winked. This startled him and his own smile faltered, stuttered and fell off his face. I turned back to Reinhold, no one in the room the wiser but for Casey and his thundering heart.
“I understand an agreement has been made?” Reinhold asked the attorneys.
An agreement?
“Yes, Your Honor,” the lawyers said in unison.
“Miss Price, please stand,” he ordered.
I obeyed, my booming heart clamoring to stay steady, and stood from my chair.
“I promised you the next time I saw you in my courtroom you would not leave as easily and yet here you are. Now, I’ve agreed to this plea bargain only because I feel it can teach you the value of your life far better than any amount of incarceration, rehab or community service.”
I wrapped my hand around the other to keep them from visibly trembling. I didn’t dare anger Reinhold’s already ice thin patience by asking him what the plea actually was. I turned to stare at Pembrook who stood beside me but he didn’t return the glance. I turned Reinhold’s way once more.
“Sophie Price,” he said with finality, making my stomach clench. My eyes closed tightly in preparation. “You are hereby sentenced to six months in Masego.” And with that, Reinhold slammed his gavel home, sending an icy shiver through my body.
I stood standing, mouth agape at the tabletop below me as the remaining people in the room stood when Reinhold exited.
And just like that, it was over.
When the room cleared, I turned to find my parents, but they had already begun to leave. My father barely acknowledged me with a nod. Casey loitered near the swinging doors and I turned his direction wondering what he could possibly want.
He leaned toward me. I could only blink where I stood. “Good luck, princess.”
He left chuckling under his breath.
Pembrook. “Pemmy, what—,” I coughed back the choking sensation that had taken up residence in my throat. “What is ‘Masego’?”
Pembrook sat in his chair and gathered all the seemingly unnecessary paperwork he’d strewn about the table before the short sentencing. He busied his hands and refused to acknowledge me with his eyes. “Masego is an orphanage in Uganda belonging to a very dear friend of mine I’ve had since primary. I expect you to work hard, Sophie. I expect you not to embarrass me. You leave in a week. The physician will be at your parents’ home tomorrow at three in the afternoon to administer the necessary inoculations. Be there, or suffer the court’s wrath. Also, here is a card your father has designated for you to purchase the necessities. Buy sturdy shorts, boots and things of this nature to weather the harsh Ugandan climate.” Finally, he looked up at me and took a deep breath. “I’m risking myself for you, Sophie. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. You need a hard dose of reality and Charles will be able to deliver that to you.”
“You think to change me, Pemmy?”
“You need to change and soon, or you will be beyond salvaging.”
“Nothing can prevent me from becoming what I already am,” I proclaimed, honest with myself for the very first time.
“True,” he said, setting his leather satchel on the table. “But people can change, my dear, and I know you’re capable of being better than this girl you’ve created for yourself. I never speak ill of your father if it can be helped, for obvious reasons, but you have been treated poorly by him and for some unfathomable reason I feel it my responsibility to fix it.