Zuri Day - Sapphire Attraction

“I’m angry, Niko, not irrational, and will not change my mind. This accident was a direct result of her foolishness. Her beauty isn’t going to sway me from making her face the consequences. It’s time she learned a lesson on cause and effect.”

“I’d think you’d want to school her in some...less combative areas.”

“Not you, too. First it was the police wanting to go easy, then Mom wanting me to send flowers and now you’re suggesting I make a date with that daredevil? That would hardly be practical. She’s much too wild.”

“Which would make taming her all the more satisfying.”

“You’re suggesting that I court her when why I called you is to take her to court. So your unrequested yet respected personal opinion aside, legally, how do I proceed?”

Niko laughed. “All right, man. I hear you. But I can’t help you, not directly. My expertise is corporate law. You need an accident and personal injury attorney.”

“Do you know any?”

“Not offhand, but let me make a couple calls and get back with you. Meanwhile, follow Mom’s advice and send those flowers. It’s the right thing to do.”

Later, Niko referred Ike to an attorney who was not only well versed in the field but quick to act. Two days after the accident, attorney Lance Holden demanded the police report be completed and filed. The day after that, Quinn was charged with reckless driving. A week later, Lance represented Ike at an arraignment at which Quinn pled not guilty. Lance then suggested they avoid a trial by requesting a pretrial conference in the judge’s chambers. That was fine with Ike. His demand for repayment and appropriate punishment would be met. Victory was all but assured. According to Lance, the matter would be resolved shortly. The defense attorney had left court, heading to his office and a meeting with Quinn.

Chapter 4

Quinn sat and seethed. Was she really sitting in a lawyer’s office over a car accident? Seriously?

“Where is he?” She stared at the door as if it had an answer.

“I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, Kristin Quinn. Try and stay calm.”

On cue, the door opened. A harried-looking lawyer in a wrinkled suit charged into the room, carrying a bulging briefcase in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.

“Hello, ladies. Sorry to have kept you waiting. A case ran late.” He set the briefcase and travel mug on the desk, then extended his hand to Quinn. “I’m Joey Wang, the defense attorney who’ll be handling this case.”

Quinn’s handshake was as lackluster as her desire to be here.

He shook Maggie’s hand as well. As he walked behind his desk she said, “We hope you were able to do what the other attorney couldn’t.”

“I’m afraid that’s not why I called you here. The victim is adamant. He wants this matter to be handled in court.”

“I can’t stand that man! He’s such a jerk!” A hearty stiletto-heeled foot stomp was the exclamation point to her anger.

“Quinn, please.” Maggie reached over and patted Quinn’s hand. “Take a breath.”

Quinn did as instructed even as she gave the attorney an icy stare.

Maggie looked at the attorney. His bewildered face matched her own.

“I 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.