Chapter 3

Emily tried to calm her racing heart as she waited to see Josh’s lawyer later that week. When Mr. Younger had told her that Josh could go to prison for close to six years, she’d wanted to throw up. He wasn’t even eighteen yet! And he hadn’t even been the one to rob that store. How could that be fair or just?

“Ms. Lassiter?” Mr. Younger entered the tiny waiting room at the public defender’s office. “Come on back.”

Emily followed him, once again admiring how young and handsome he was. When she’d first seen him in the courtroom, she’d almost demanded to know how old he was because he seemed too young to know what he was doing. She’d been afraid he wasn’t really a lawyer but instead some intern practicing on her poor brother. But, no, according to everything she’d found online, Phineas Younger, J.D., was as much a lawyer as she was a broke waitress and former model. He’d graduated at the top of his class from the University of Oregon, and he’d been working as a public defender since he’d passed the bar.

As they entered his office, the sunlight streaming through the only window, Phin’s hair gleamed. Emily had never seen a shade like that: it was strawberry blond, but depending on the light, it either looked pure red or pure blond. Right then, the sunlight made the auburn strands sparkle. It was ridiculous, really.

Emily had to force her thoughts away from admiring her brother’s lawyer’s hair like a total idiot. Stop gawking at the lawyer, Em.

“Right. Have a seat.” Phin sat down in front of his desk, which was immaculate in its organization, color-coded files placed in various bins and organizers. Pens were lined up next to his left hand, while a calendar with neat handwriting took up much of the room on the desk. Emily looked around, her gaze landing on the bookshelf that took up the entire southern wall.

Trying to make out the titles and knowing it was hopeless, she suddenly felt intimidated. Of course she knew Phin was smart: he was a lawyer, for God’s sake. But the books were like a flashing signal that screamed at her that she was out of her depth.

“Your brother, to put it mildly, is in a difficult spot,” said Phin as he opened a file, not wasting any time. He scanned a document, his lips thinning as he read through it.

“As I mentioned at the hearing, despite Josh’s age, he would be tried as an adult since second-degree robbery has a mandatory sentence if convicted, and Josh knew that his friend planned to rob the store, too. The fact that Josh and his companion were pulled over by the police and the stolen merchandise was found in the trunk, along with the more serious charge of Mr. Berkley threatening violence toward the sales clerk during the robbery, doesn’t help, either.”

When Emily had spoken with Josh yesterday at the detention center, Josh had insisted that it had all been his best friend Reggie’s idea. This hadn’t surprised Emily, considering that Reggie seemed to be the instigator of Josh’s skipping school and running away. Emily had tried to get Josh to stop hanging out with Reggie, but short of locking Josh in his room, she couldn’t watch over her brother constantly and work to pay their bills.

After meeting with Josh yesterday at the detention center, Emily had finally heard the entire story behind the robbery. Josh hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but Emily had badgered him until he’d given in.

According to Josh, during an afternoon when the two boys skipped school, Reggie came up with the plan of stealing from a local department store. “All you have to do is take shit to the dressing room, because there aren’t any cameras there,” he’d told Josh.

When Reggie had told Josh that they could steal small, expensive items like perfume and sell them for extra cash, Josh had finally agreed. It had seemed like a straightforward plan. Reggie had insisted that his cousin stole from places all the time and that was how he got most of his money.

After some discussion, Reggie decided he would be the one stealing; Josh would drive Reggie’s cousin’s car when Reggie came out of the store. It was a simple enough plan: steal bottles of cologne and perfume along with any other small items that Reggie could fit into his oversized jeans pockets. Easy in, easy out.

The plan seemed to go off without a hitch. Reggie stole hundreds of dollars’ worth of merchandise and walked out of the store without incident. Josh had noticed that Reggie seemed on edge as he’d gotten into the car, swearing at Josh when he hadn’t driven off fast enough. That was when Josh had noticed the knife in Reggie’s hand.

Reggie had denied threatening anyone, but deep inside, Josh had known otherwise. Reggie had insisted that they celebrate their victory. They hadn’t gotten caught, had they?

But their victory had only lasted for so long. Josh had pushed aside the thought of the knife.

Josh was so excited at how much Reggie had stolen for them both that he didn’t realize he was speeding. When a cop pulled him over for going twice the limit, Reggie almost bolted right then and there.

The boys weren’t good enough actors to fool the police officer. At their edgy and nervous looks, he asked them to step out of the vehicle, and within moments, the officer found the stolen merchandise. He’d already gotten a call about a robbery, and he identified Reggie as the person at large. Within minutes, both Josh and Reggie were arrested.

Sitting in Phin’s office, Emily wished she could go to the detention center and shake her brother until his teeth rattled. She’d wanted to do exactly that yesterday. How could he have been so stupid?

Emily rubbed her sweaty palms against her dress. “I still don’t understand why Josh would be charged with robbery, too. He didn’t steal anything—Reggie did.”

“But he knew Reggie had planned to rob that store, and he helped him get away. That’s more than enough in the eyes of the law,” said Phin.

“So that’s it?” She felt tears of despair prick her eyelids. “Josh will go to prison no matter what?”

Phin’s voice was gentle as he said, “Most likely, but since he wasn’t the one who committed the robbery itself, that gives us a little leeway. I believe a plea deal is in his best interest in this case. He can plead to a lesser charge so this doesn’t go to trial, and then it also doesn’t fall under a Ballot 11 measure. He’d be tried a juvenile, which is about rehabilitation, not punishment.”

Emily listened as Phin spoke at length about plea deals, sentencing, and all kinds of legal jargon that went over Emily’s head. By the time he was finished speaking, she felt like her brain was completely overloaded.

“It can’t be that easy. Josh takes a plea deal, and that’s it?”

Phin smiled grimly. “Well, we can try. The judge doesn’t have to accept it.”

At that thought, Emily felt a bubble of hysteria building inside her. The burden of everything weighed on her until she wanted to collapse under its weight. She wondered if this was what it felt like to drown—one minute you were breathing oxygen, the next, your throat closed as the water rushed in and filled your lungs.

The thought of Josh in prison shot straight to her heart. And their mom—she’d be devastated if she were alive. Emily had failed their mom as surely as she’d failed Josh.

To Emily’s immense humiliation, tears filled her eyes until she started crying right in Phin’s office. She couldn’t stop crying even if she wanted to. It was like a dam had burst and the river had to run its course.

“I’m sorry,” said Phin quietly as he placed a box of tissues in front of her. “I’ll do the best I can for your brother. I promise you that.”

Emily just cried harder. She grabbed a handful of tissues to wipe her face, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop crying.

Finally, her sobs turned to hiccups, and then she was dabbing at her reddened eyes and blowing her nose as she tried to put herself to rights. She blushed scarlet when she looked up to see Phin watching her, his own expression one of secondhand embarrassment tinged with dismay.

Emily sniffled. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t come here just to cry in your office. I’m a mess.” She grabbed more tissues, like they could ward off more tears. “I’m not usually a crier.”

“You’re not the first person to cry in my office, Ms. Lassiter, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

She laughed a little. “I guess that’s reassuring.”

“At least you didn’t throw a book at my head.”

“Someone threw a book at you?” She stared at him, incredulous.

“She was… distraught. Luckily it was a paperback, and she had terrible aim.”

“I’m not sure why someone would want to throw something at you. I’d rather throw something at my brother.”

“Ms. Lassiter,” said Phin, his expression turning serious. “I meant what I said. I know a court-appointed lawyer seems like the short end of the stick, and I won’t lie and say that that’s not often the case. There aren’t enough of us to go around. But I don’t do this job for the glory: I do it because I want to help people who need help the most. The people who are forgotten in the system.”

He sounded so sincere, so passionate, that Emily’s overburdened heart lifted a little at the words. When had she last been able to rely on someone else? Too long. Since her mother had died, really. Emily had taken care of herself and Josh without any help.

There had been a few boyfriends who’d come and gone, but they’d never been reliable. They’d buy Emily trinkets and tell her she was beautiful, but when they realized she had to focus on paying her bills and taking care of an annoying younger brother instead of paying attention to them, the boyfriends inevitably left her for greener pastures.

“Thank you for all of your help. And please, call me Emily.”

Phin smiled. “You’re welcome, Emily.”

Hearing her name on his lips felt almost like a caress. They stared at each other, the moment lengthening, until Phin glanced at his computer screen and said, “I have another appointment, but let me walk you out.”

Desire flashed in his eyes, but only for a second. She knew that flash almost as much as she knew her own reflection: it was how men always looked at her. But Emily was tired of men seeing her merely as a pretty face and body, with no brain or personality. Phin was hardly like any of her exes, but she knew men: they were all the same in the essentials.

Caught between feeling flattered and frustrated that even this man would only see her as a pretty face and nothing more, she saw Phin reach behind her to hand her her forgotten sweater.

“No, I’ll get it,” she blurted. She grabbed the sweater up before he could touch it, and she instantly regretted the action, like his touching her things disgusted her.

His face closed. The softness in his expression instantly hardened. She wanted to apologize, but she felt so awkward that she was tongue-tied.

“If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me,” he said as they entered the waiting room, now brusque and formal. He glanced at his watch, like he was already dismissing her from his mind. “Have a nice afternoon, Ms. Lassiter.”

So it was already back to Ms. Lassiter, not Emily. Emily almost called him back to apologize, but he’d already walked away. She stood there, uncertain, until the woman at the front desk asked her if she needed anything.

Feeling stupid, Emily muttered a noncommittal answer and told herself that getting entangled with any man—let alone her brother’s lawyer—would be the height of idiocy. No matter how nicely he filled out a suit, or how his hair gleamed in the sunlight, or how kind he’d looked for an instant before she’d ruined the moment.