Sapphire Attraction. Zuri Day
understand you being upset, Ms. Taylor. These types of cases are often settled out of court. But I assure you that this case will be handled with the utmost care, and in a way that makes this unfortunate situation as easy as possible. Which is why I brought you here.” He looked at Quinn. “It’s to recommend that you change your plea.”
“To guilty? No way.”
“Given the preponderance of evidence, which includes witness statements, a guilty plea can possibly assist in resolving this matter quickly.”
“You’re asking me to plead guilty even though the accident wasn’t my fault,” Quinn insisted.
“What’s the difference?” Maggie asked.
“Guilty means that one admits responsibility, that they are at fault. When this happens, the sentence—or in this case whatever reprimand the judge would impose, since jail is unlikely—would be lighter than what a jury typically hands down. ‘No contest’ means that the defendant agrees to the facts presented but not to their guilt in what happened as a result.”
Quinn’s ears perked up. “Meaning I wouldn’t be liable for his car damage?”
“No, that is not what I mean. The eyewitness testimony and police investigation both point to you being at fault. His repairs will be your responsibility no matter how you plead. Then there is the matter of your driving history and the number of speeding tickets you’ve received in the past five years.”
Quinn’s shoulders slumped. There was no arguing with that truth.
“This will be classified as a misdemeanor. You’ll likely get off with a fine, some type of community service and a suspended license for no more than ninety days. If you slow down and go the next few years without additional tickets, you could approach the judge to have the charge expunged from your record.”
“Unacceptable,” Quinn said with her back ramrod straight. “Grandmother, can we talk about this privately, please?”
“What’s there to talk about, Quinn? You did hit the young man’s car.”
“Isn’t that what insurance is for?”
“I’m afraid these expenses are going to go beyond whatever policy you have,” Joey replied. “When fully restored and in pristine condition, cars like the one you hit sell for half a million bucks.”
Quinn huffed in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”
Maggie raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, good Lord.”
“The ’61 Ferrari is a prized classic. Few were made and most of those are in various states of disrepair. That makes the one you wrecked even more valuable, and leads to the final point.”
“There’s more?” Quinn asked.
Joey answered while opening his briefcase and pulling out a manila envelope. “The owner of the Ferrari has decided not to wait until after the trial to take additional action. He has filed suit against you, Quinn, to ensure the repairs will be handled.”
Quinn eyed her grandmother. “Sued me! Can you believe it? Should I still not be upset?”
Instead of answering the question, Maggie addressed the attorney. “Mister, um...”
“Wang, ma’am. But please, call me Joey.”
“Joey, thank you so much for all you’ve done. I’ll discuss this with my granddaughter and get back with you shortly.”
“As soon as possible, please. The victim and his attorney want this matter resolved in all due haste.”
They’d not taken two steps outside before Quinn started in. “Grandmother, please talk to Dad again. One phone call and this would go away! I don’t know why he’s being so stubborn!”
“One could say the same for you,” Maggie answered, with kind eyes.
“Me? Okay, maybe you’re right. Even though there was a very good reason for me to swerve, I did in fact hit the other car. So I’ll pay the fine and fix his stupid car. But community service? There’s no way. And with Trent coming to town next week, a suspended license is totally out of the question.”
Trent Corrigan was Quinn’s plus one when she needed one, a mood lifter with a great gift of gab. She called him Trench Coat. He called her Q-Tip. They’d been best friends since high school.
“I was talking about the strained relationship between you and your father, the animosity that’s been present since he remarried. That happened twelve years ago, honey, when you were thirteen. How long are you going to hold on to the anger of your youth?”
“I don’t see him making a move to repair things, either.”
They reached the car and got inside. Maggie turned toward Quinn, grasped her hands and squeezed softly. “Quinn, my dear. I love you so very much. The attitude you’re exhibiting is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have spoiled you, but those beautiful hazel-brown eyes would get me every time.
“Your father isn’t perfect. But there’s one thing I know for sure, and it’s that he loves you. Are there other ways he can show it besides the ones he’s tried? Certainly. But like you, honey, he’s doing the best he can.”
“Grandmother—”
“No, no need for a counterargument. You have to handle life on your own terms. As for spoiling you, I don’t regret a single one of the all too few days we shared when you were younger.” Maggie ran a hand along Quinn’s cheek. “You missed so much. Your mother gone and your dad always so busy with work.”
“Work and Viviana. Don’t leave her out.”
“And his wife, yes. I tried to fill the void in ways that may not have served you. There were too few rules and almost no consequences. All things considered, what the young man is asking is not beyond the pale.”
Quinn started the car and headed home, careful to observe the speed limit along the way.
“Is that why Dad is refusing to help me? To teach me another lesson?”
“I can’t answer that, dear. But regarding the pretrial conference, I agree with Joey. This matter will be settled through the court. There’s no getting out of that. Changing your plea seems the best thing to do.”
Quinn didn’t voice the reaction she felt. We’ll see.
They arrived home, but Quinn’s plans weren’t to stay long. She went upstairs and returned with her jacket.
“Going out again?”
“For a bit. While I still have a license.”
“Do be careful, darling.”
Quinn jumped into the rental Corvette she’d been given while her own was being repaired. She would have liked nothing more than to rev the V-6 engine and use major horsepower to take the car from zero to sixty in a little under four seconds flat. She resisted the temptation. Took her time to gain a cool head. Talking Ike Drake into standing down on his notion of justice would take all the charm and calm persuasion she possessed.
Halfway to Drake Realty, her cell phone rang. She tapped the phone icon on the steering wheel to answer the call from her lone PC friend, whom she’d met the first time on a visit at the age of twelve. “Hey, Peyton.”
“What are you doing?”
“Channeling the negotiator.”
“Huh?”
“Will explain later.”
“You’d better. Those words sound mysterious.”
“I’m handling part two of the mystery now, so when we meet I can share the whole story. Busy later?”
“Not really. Just text me where and I’ll head over.”
“Perfect.”