Sedona Law 4 by Dave Daren (ready to read books TXT) 📕

America on a motorcycle vision quest. My parents had never been so proud of anyone in their lives, I don’t think.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a rock show,” Vicki told me. “I haven’t done this kind of thing since college.”

“Really?” I was surprised.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I bet you didn’t know I used to be a total punk rocker chick.”

I stopped and glanced at her sideways. “No, I seriously did not know that about you.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I had pink highlights, and angled bangs, and wore fishnets, combat boots, and miniskirts.”

My eyes widened. She wore pencil skirts, button downs, and smart business suits, all with high end labels, and we typically spent our evenings in, Netflixing over wine and takeout.

“I did not expect that from you,” I said.

She laughed. “It was my freshman year, and I was away from home, and so I... sort of…”

“Please tell me you were not a groupie,” I said.

She laughed harder. “I was never that, but my friends and I did follow this band around for a whole summer.”

“But you’re so…” I couldn’t find the words.

“So what?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” I said. “You just surprise me.”

“Surprise you, how?” she laughed. “That I’m not all prim and proper?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you repeat the question? I’m still stuck on the picture of you wearing the fishnets and miniskirts.”

She laughed and smacked my arm. A massive tattooed man bumped into me and yelled obscenities. I ignored him and put my arm around Vicki.

“Hey,” the drunkard yelled after me, “Aren’t you the fancy lawyer defending that girl that killed that queer dancer?”

I continued to ignore him, and once we were out of earshot, I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“Of all the things you could say about Beowulf,” I told Vicki, “I don’t think queer is one of them.”

“We’re getting quite a reputation in this town,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think we might need to tone down the whole pseudo celebrity thing. Lay low for a little while.”

“Oh, gosh,” she rolled her eyes. “You are not a pseudo celebrity.”

“I don’t know,” I laughed and turned up the collar on my leather jacket. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain. In fact, I don’t know if I can be seen with notorious characters like you.”

“Am I bad for your image?” she mocked. “Your zebra defending image?”

I laughed, and we reached the front entrance to the PAH. Music pounded through the building, and I didn’t know who was on stage, but I didn’t recognize any of it. Not that I would to begin with, it was all pretty average crappy rock music, stuff that I wouldn’t listen to unless I had to for a client. We showed our mobile tickets to a security officer, who sent us through a makeshift metal detector station.

“That’s new,” I muttered to Vicki after they were done practically frisking me with a wand.

“You know why,” she replied.

“I just can’t imagine them sending Iakova through one of these,” I said.

“And it’s ridiculous anyway,” she began, “because the murderer, whomever they were, likely had full security clearance.”

When we entered the auditorium, and I could physically feel the vibrations of the music resonating through the dark room. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I noticed much of the crowd was standing against the walls. There was no way we would find my family in this mess, so Vicki and I joined the bystanders, and I figured we’d wait until a break to find our seats.

I leaned against the wall with Vicki and listened to some band play music I had only heard in passing. I wasn’t impressed with any of it in recorded form, and the live form did little to change my mind.

When I was younger, I could definitely be construed as the prototypical millennial music snob. But I just don’t have time to keep up with the scene anymore, I don’t care that much anyway, especially since it’s no longer part of my job to have to care. So, the casual observer would think I don’t listen to music, but that’s not true. I actually love music, but only really, really good stuff. I guess I’m my father’s son that way.

Every other way, though, I’m not like my family at all. When I was in school, I was an actor, and it was something I enjoyed, and I was good at it. At the insistence of my drama teachers, I applied to Julliard, and got accepted. My family was over the moon. Art, creativity, and making a statement were what fueled my family’s values, and getting into the most prestigious performing arts school, was the mothership of all of those things.

But, the idea of Julliard, and whatever else came after that, never sat well with me. The stage was never where my passion was, or at least what I wanted to do for a living anyway. I had a passion for justice, and I enjoyed a good debate. Not to mention, looking at the probable earning potential between the two professions, well, I’m a logical kind of guy.

So, in the end, I turned down Julliard to go to UCLA and eventually law school. But judging from my family’s reaction, it would have seemed I had announced that I want to join a band of pirates and pillage ships for booty. My parents spent the last half of my senior year sighing, “Well, you’re eighteen now. It’s your life.” It wasn’t until Harmony’s case that the ice started to melt. I guess my family finally realized it might actually be useful to have a lawyer in the family. Things have gotten a lot better with them recently, Vicki has had a lot to do with that.

She’s amazing really. She’s the type that can chat