Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(56)
Author: Catherine Bybee

“That’s not necessary, Jack. When is the deposition?”

Jack hesitated on the phone. “Yeah… uh, it’s tomorrow in LA. Sorry for the short notice.”

It didn’t matter. There was no way he’d be able to rest until he knew he dispelled any rumors about Monica’s reasons for going to Jamaica. Yeah, she’d probably be pissed to have her fiancé know the details about their brief affair, but it was better than losing her career.

Trent ended the call to Jack and called his brother back. “Hey, Jason.”

“Everything OK?”

“No, actually. I need to go to LA.” He glanced into the hangar at his ride. “And I’m going to blow my cover to get there.”

“Seriously? Must be bad… or good. You gonna be a daddy or something?”

Trent actually stumbled when he walked into the hangar. He hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“Trent?”

“Ah. No.” Shit… maybe. “It’s important.”

“Do what you gotta do. We have your back.” Jason hung up.

Trent opened the hatch to the Citation and jumped inside. He took in the cockpit, checked the hours, did a quick once-over, and then exited the plane. He noticed one of the airport mechanics and waved him down. After a quick instruction, he made his way into the pilots’ lounge and dispatch. The girl behind the desk smiled as he approached.

“I need the Citation fueled and a flight plan filed for a one-way to LA. I’ll be leaving in an hour.” He wanted to get out of Seattle before the storm that was following this drizzle set in.

She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t get a call.”

Frank heard him and walked over. “Watcha doing, TJ?”

Ignoring him, Trent walked into the manager’s office. Frank followed and took his ridiculous glasses off his face.

The manager, Cornelius something or other, shared a confused look as Trent went to the logbooks to check the maintenance schedule. “I’m taking the Citation. Probably be gone a couple of days.”

“Excuse me?”

For the first time he realized he looked like a lunatic. Trent grabbed the book he needed and turned toward the boss. He extended his hand. “Trent Fairchild. Call Jason if you need a replacement.” He flashed a smile at Frank and took a brisk walk to his car. He could be at the hotel he was staying in, pack a bag, and be in the air within an hour.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Monica sat beside not one, not two, but three lawyers who wore suits so expensive that she’d have to work for a month to pay for all of them, and this was only half of the team. Mr. Goldstein was the senior lawyer in this trio. Back in Texas Mr. Goldstein had two other associates whom Monica lovingly referred to as Mr. Silver and Mr. Platinum. Not their names, but it was how they presented themselves.

Goldstein sat beside her with his sharp suit and cologne that was a little too potent for her taste, but she had to admit he smelled nice. It was as if the olfactory nerve was on trial and he planned on beating anyone within a foot into submission.

“This is only a deposition,” Goldstein told her. “You’re not on trial, though you might feel you are.”

“Do I have to answer everything they ask?”

“Yes. If they ask anything objectionable, I’ll stop them. Answer everything as truthfully as possible and don’t elaborate. If you don’t remember, say you don’t remember and leave it at that.”

Goldstein had already spent several hours with her talking about the case. He determined early on that she had nothing to hide. That didn’t stop the hospital attorneys from attempting to make a case against her. Not that Monica had any intention of working there again. But a discharge based on the crap they were spewing—and a loss of her license—would certainly prohibit her from working anywhere else.

Katie took her shopping before the deposition. Monica wore a pencil skirt, matching jacket and the perfect flats because her leg had only been out of the cast for a week and she couldn’t wear heels without falling on her face. Monica felt like she belonged next to these high-powered lawyers. More so, she was bent on proving she wasn’t some needy woman desperate for a vacation who would use a charity to score a free airplane ride.

She may not have been one to flaunt her sister’s new family, but she didn’t have any problem helping her accusers connect the dots so they could see how asinine their claims were.

A petite woman made her way into the conference room first. She reached over and shook the hands of Monica’s attorneys. She introduced herself as the court reporter and set up a laptop.

Monica sat up straight in her chair and rubbed her leg absently. Goldstein spoke with his colleagues in hushed tones as they waited for the hospital representation to arrive.

A lone man stepped into the large room, his abdomen preceding him by a good six inches. The sweater-vest he wore with a lack of a jacket, mixed with the thinning hairline, was a testament to the man’s disregard of the case. Monica couldn’t help but notice his general lack of polish. Suddenly she realized that her team knew exactly what they were doing, dressed the way they were. Her team stood and shook hands with the opposing attorney. He smiled at her, but didn’t bother putting his hand out.

Good. I don’t want this guy to think I like him or who he represents.

Mr. Hudson set his papers on the opposing side of the table, but didn’t sit.

“Looks as if the nurse union has stepped up their attorneys,” he said with a laugh that could only be described as guarded.

Goldstein sat back and said nothing while his colleague corrected him. “Oh, no, Mr. Hudson. There isn’t any union representation here.”

Hudson shot a look at Monica. The cocky smile on his face fell.

“Is that right?”

“That’s correct, counselor. Miss Mann has waived her right to a union attorney.”

Hudson started to smile again. As if he knew something none of them did.

Goldstein’s right-hand man, literally, removed a card from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it to the other attorney. All the while Goldstein had said nothing.

Hudson glanced at the card and Monica would swear she could hear his heart palpitate from where she sat. She really hoped this guy was healthier than his fast food lunch gut made him appear. It would suck to have to render aid to the enemy.

“If you’ll excuse me?” Hudson said as he left the room.

“Where’s he going?” Monica asked as she watched him retreat.