33 You're Fired

The drive was hideous. They process me through the system as soon as we get to the building. They take my belongings, put me in a yellow jumpsuit, and send me to this common area where I’ll wait for my attorney. Apparently they already heard from him and he’s on his way. Luckily no one seems to recognize me, or care, because they don’t bother me.

An hour or so later, my representation shows up and they take me to an area where we can be alone. As soon as we sit down, I know I want a new lawyer.

“They already offered a deal and I think you should take it,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

Shaking my head I look him in the eyes, “No.”

“It’s a really good deal. Hear me out,” he bargains.

I just stare at him without saying anything and I guess he takes that as an excuse to explain.

“They told me that they would send you back to England on their expense, annul your marriage, and all this will be expunged from your record. Plus,” he lifts his eyebrows, “your friend won’t get charged with Marriage Fraud.”

“Are you done?” I ask keeping my face straight. When he nods, I nod back and yell, “Guard!” When the security gets to the cell, I tell him, “I’m done here and I’ll need my phone call now.” Looking back over to the attorney as I put my hands through the grate to get cuffed, “You’re fired. I don’t want someone who automatically thinks I’m guilty to represent me. Thank you for your time. Your services are no longer needed.”

I get taken back to a cell since it’s getting quite late. They tell me I can have my call in the morning which I fully intend on making.

When I get to the phone early the next morning, I call my husband. I’m almost nervous he won’t be awake. I’m not even sure it’s light outside yet. It rings a couple times before I hear his voice, “Hello?”

“Hi, love.”

His voice sounds shaky when he lets out a ragged breath, “Damian, I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m fine love, but I do need a favor.”

“Anything,” he promises.

“Call Johnny and tell him I need a new lawyer. The one he sent was a right prat,” I tell him as I lean against the wall next to the phone.

“What happened?” he sounds worried.

“He just wanted to settle and get me out of the country. If it takes going to court, I’m going to court,” I make sure he knows that I’m not kidding. “You don’t have to be involved with this. I can just say it was a fraud and they’ll annul it, but I’m not getting kicked out of a country that I’m legally a resident of.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” his voice sounds with finality. “This isn’t a fake marriage and I won’t let them say it is.”

“Alright, well I can’t stay on, but call Johnny. Tell him I want someone better and if I have to pay more, I don’t mind.”

“Money’s never been an issue, babe. I’ll make sure he gets the best and let him know why. I’ll call Linda too, to see if she knows anyone.”

“Oh,” I remember, “and I’m coming into the city today for my arraignment hearing. I’ll need a suit. Can you grab one from the spare closet for me?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” I nod even though he can’t see me. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Damian,” he breaths into the phone. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, love,” I hang up before he can say anything because his voice is making me sad.

He didn’t ask for this. He doesn’t deserve this.

After my phone call, they get me ready to go to the city. There’s no really getting ready for it. They just put cuffs on and transport me in a van for the almost seven hour drive it takes to get there.

The only reason I’m getting a trial in the first place is because I can fight the marriage fraud charge. And if we win, I’ll have a green card. In all reality, I don’t need the green card, but you can’t really go to court of your immigration status. It either is or isn’t and they’ve docked me as ‘isn’t’. I’m sure it has something to do with my father.

In fact, I know it’s my father because when I asked the officers yesterday what ground they had, they said I wasn’t in the system as a resident. Apparently they have a large database where everyone’s records are stored.

When we arrive they take me into the holding area where I meet my new lawyer. She apparently gotten my suit from Topher because it’s hanging on a hook fastened to the wall.

My attorney is a fiery red-headed woman that comes about up to my shoulder. She’s a tiny little thing. But by her determined expression and blaze in her bright green eyes, I know she means business. It’s a much needed change from the last.

“Bridget Madison,” she holds her hand out to me when they take the handcuff off.

I’m impressed with her firm grip when I give her hand a shake, “Damian Ashton.”

“Good,” she smiles and points a door on the opposite wall, “you can go in there and change. And how about you tell me what we’re facing.”

I take the suit from the wall and walk into a loo, closing the door behind me. As I take my jumpsuit off, I shout through the wooden barrier, “Have you talked my husband?”

“I have,” I hear her say. “He’s very kind.”

“He is that,” I chuckle lightly. “Did he explain everything?”

“He told me what was happening, but I want to hear it from you. You have all the details.”

As I pull my suit trousers on, I call out, “He pretty much has them too.”

“You both trust each other so much.”

It seems like a random statement so I wait for her to finish, but she doesn’t. Then I ask, “What do you mean?”

“You trust him enough to put your trial information in his hands. And the way he told me everything, it was like he didn’t doubt it for a second,” she sounds a little shocked and that surprises me.

I walk out of the toilet as I tuck in my shirt, “Why shouldn’t we?”

“No, no,” she holds up her hands waving them like she’s trying to erase a blackboard with two hands. She drops them to the table top and looks up at me, “It’s good that you trust each other. It’s just so complete. It’s rare to find a couple that in sync.”

“He was my best mate first,” I shrug before sitting down in a chair next to her with my socks and shoes. “So what do you need to know?”

She grabs a legal pad from her briefcase and set it on the table. Her pen goes to a ready position when she says, “Tell me everything.”

And I do. I tell her how I’m dual citizen and why. I tell her that my mother has all the paperwork from my birth. I even forgot my American passport there while we were on holiday.

We discuss how much I love my husband, but she says there are details that can be misconstrued. I make sure to let her know that I don’t want our sexual orientation to be part of the fight. I don’t want it throw out as a prejudice or impartial. I want it out of the case completely. I know that even though it’s my father’s reason for wanting me gone, it’s not something I plan to use for or against him. I won’t stoop to his level.

“Do you think we have a case?” I ask as we finish with our discussion.

She nods quickly, “Oh yea. We’re more than within your rights. The only thing is that we’re going to have to get your mom here to testify and bring those documents.” She put the paper back into her bag before looking up and smiling, “Now, we need to get you into the arraignment.”

“Can I see Topher?” I ask her, a little unsure, as I knot my tie.

I know he’s here. I just want to see him for a second.

She looks around the room for a second like she’s check for something. I look too, but there’s nothing.

“I’m not supposed to,” she admits, but looks at my shaky fingers. “But it looks like you need some help with that tie.” She juts her lips out pretending to be sad, “Maybe I can find someone in the hallway to help,” she cocks an eyebrow and holds up a finger for me to wait.

From outside the door I hear her, “Officer you don’t know how to knot a tie, do you?”

“No ma’am.”

“Shucks,” there’s a pause and then, “Excuse me sir, do you know how to tie a tie?” There is no reply, but I hear her again. This time her voice is laced with a flirty tone, “Officer you don’t mind, do you? My client really needs to look good for court.”

I guess he agrees because I hear the door knob turn. All I can see after that is blue eyes, the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen, and my lips are suddenly occupied.

My hands fit themselves into the hair at the back of his neck as he pulls me closer.

We kiss. We kiss like we need each other’s lips to breath. We kiss like there is nothing more important in the world than to be this close to each other. And at the moment that may be true.

It lasts only a minute, or maybe a year, until we both pull away and he rests his forehead against mine. There we stay panting; my hands balled around the hair at the back of his neck, his fisting my lapels.

“It’ll be over soon,” I promise in a whisper. “They don’t stand a chance.”

“I miss you,” he admits.

A sad smile comes over my lips, “And I miss you.”

I hear someone clear there throat and look up to see Bridget, “I hate to do this, but we have to go.”

Christopher runs his hand down the front of my suit to smooth it out and places a peck on my lips, “I love you.”

“I love you,” I tell him as he walks towards the door.

When he leaves, I take a deep breath and look at my attorney, “I’m ready.”

She throws her hands in the air playfully, “He didn’t even tie your necktie.” She struts right over and knocks my hands away, knotting it perfectly, “There! Now we can go.”

Smirking, I watch her grab her suitcase before walking out of the small room, “I thought you didn’t know how to tie ties.”

“I never said that, Mr. Ashton. I was simply trying to find someone who could help us.”

I take a quick look around as we make our way through the corridor, but my husband is nowhere in sight. I just follow along behind Bridget until we’re standing in front of a set of double doors.

She stops and turns to me with a crooked eyebrow, “Don’t say anything. This is just arraignment. We’re not debating your case yet, so just keep your mouth closed, I can handle this.”

She turns back to the doors without another word or waiting to listen to me. I guess the no talking starts now.

We wait at the back of the large courtroom as other cases are presented. Miss Madison reminds me over and over to stay quiet with promises that she knows how this is supposed to go. She tells me she’s handled much more difficult cases and this should be a breeze. All the time, I’m just sitting and listening quietly. It’s when a familiar face walks in through those double doors that I actually start to get nervous.

I guess it shows because Bridget puts a tentative hand to my knee, “Everything going to be fine.”

“That’s him,” I whisper and motion my head in the direction of my father. “That’s Clark.”

She shakes her head like she’s annoyed, “He’s just here to rile you up. Don’t pay him any mind.”

“He’s doing a good job,” I admit.

“We just have to ignore-”

She’s cut off by the judge’s voice, “Case docket 73596, please approach.”

“That’s us,” my attorney mutters as she stands and brushes off her skirt. “Let’s do this.”

The determination on her face and in her voice gives me a little more confidence. I stand and we make our way to the podium. The female judge looks powerful in her black robe. Although she’s an older woman with short hair and tortoise-shell glasses, she has a glint in her eye that makes her seem wise. I decide I like her right on the spot.

Next to us (and facing us) stands a skinny man with sharp dark features and a debonair smile. If I wasn’t so scared of what he could potentially do to me, he would be very attractive.

“Mr. Damian Ashton, on the charges of ‘Illegal Immigration’ and ‘Marriage Fraud’, how do you plead?” The judge looks down from me to my lawyer over her glasses.

Bridget squares her shoulder and announces, “My client pleads not guilty, you honor.”

The judge looks at her with a worried look, “Are you sure, Miss Madison? It’s not easy to prove.”

“As soon as his paperwork gets here from England, I’ll be filing to a motion to dismiss charges,” she states confidently.

“That won’t be necessary, your honor,” the handsome prosecutor comes into the conversation.

“ADA Halloran, nice of you to join us,” the judge smiles over at him, “would you like to tell me why?”

“There is no record of Damian Moore-Hill being a United States citizen in our systems. The trial would still have to go on. They could have faked the documents,” his smile turns from confident to vicious. “You might as well just wait for the hearing, Bridget.”

“I thought his name was Damian Ashton,” she looks a little puzzled as she glances back at the paperwork on desk in front of her.

“It is, your honor. He took his husband’s name when they got married,” Bridget verbally steps in.

“A marriage that was not legally obtained,” the ADA defends.

The judge holds her hand up to silence the two attorneys, “We’ll discuss this during the trial. Now, Mr. Halloran, onto the issue of bail.”

“I suggest remand,” Halloran states plainly to which my jaw drops.

“That’s a little excessive even for you, John,” Bridget looks over at him to raise a brow. “I recommend a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bail and a forfeiture of passports.”

“What?” I can’t help myself when the word slips from my mouth. That an outrageous amount of money.

“You have the-,” she whispers, but she’s cut off again by the other lawyer.

“He obviously has the means and opportunity to leave when he wants. If he can get into the country illegally, I’m sure he can get out of it.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Bridget asks.

“I agree with Miss Madison, Mister Halloran,” the judge then looks over at Bridget. “Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars. Plus, the defendant must submit his passport and driver’s license to the court.”

“Thank yo-”

“I’m not done, Miss Madison. Your client also must wear an ankle bracelet and is only to remain in his residence until trial,” the judge states firmly. When it looks like my attorney is about to say something the judge holds up her hand, “And if your client is to violate the terms, he will be remanded without bail. Is that clear to you, Mister Ashton?”

“Yes ma’am,” I nod politely. “I understand.”

She chuckles slightly, but not unkindly, “With an accent like that, Mister Ashton, your lawyer is going to have a difficult time proving you’re from America.” Then she bangs her gavel, “Now go visit the clerk and set up a trial date. Next case! Docket 73602, please approach.”

A court officer grabs my arm lightly to escort me out. As we make our way through the courtroom, I catch my father’s eye. He just smiles viciously and watches closely as we pass. The only good I can see that came out of this is the black eye and busted lip Clark seems to be sporting. A little pride rushes through me and I square my shoulders, walking out with my head held high.

~A/N~

The song makes me feel old, but I actually love Chumbawamba. Plus it's appropriate.

Okay, so a bunch of people have been asking about a sequel... (it's not even over yet) ...and I have some news. There will not be a sequel in the sense of the term. I may do a story (that I've been working on) that they will be in, but I can't put them through anymore hell. I love them.

So to recap - sequel no. Story that they may or may not be a major part in - probably.

Miss Bridget Madison on the side!