Just Be True To Me

Chapter 6

“What better way than to make you more human by showing everyone that you’re happy?”

Clifford tugged on his earlobe, the sensation caused his eyes to roll. When he opened them, he found her looking at him. “My mom used to do this when I couldn’t sleep.” It was the first time he’d revealed anything about his family. “Funny how something so simple has the power to reveal the stress that’s accumulated throughout the day.”

“That’s cute.”

He stopped, grunting as he climbed to his feet. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “It’s good. That’s the side of you that you need the jurors to see. We’re going to win this case by reminding them that you were like them at one point in time. Way, way back in time.” She laughed as he fell back beside her, thanking him after he filled her glass. She smacked her lips after swallowing the burgundy liquid down. “This is really good.”

“It better be. It cost $8,000 a bottle.”

She managed to catch the liquid before it shot from her lips. Coughing it down, she dabbed her mouth before asking him to repeat what he’d just said.

“Yep. It’s a 1990 Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru.”

“That’s younger than you. I thought the best wines were the old ones.”

“Vintage,” he said. “Napoleon drank this.” He swirled the glass, wafting the scents toward his nose. He invited her to a sniff. “Smell that?”

Mia scrunched her nose. She held her breath to avoid from exhaling. After several seconds, she said, “I smell wine.”

Clifford huffed, shaking his head. “Some people just don’t get it.” He took a large inhale of the liquid before throwing it back.

“That’s the problem. I’m by no means living paycheck to paycheck, but I don’t even know the first thing about wine. We can’t have the jury seeing you as the big-shot handsome businessman, who not only has more money than he’ll ever be able to spend, but who’s cheating the system to get more.” She hopped to her feet, offering her hand to help him up. She then turned on some music. Turning the lights off, she pushed the coffee table to the side. Snapping along with the beat, she began twisting her hips.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing. Come on, you’re not that old. I know you had some signature moves back in the day.”

“I’m not old. I’m seasoned. There’s a difference.”

“Then show me what you’ve got.” Mia added a spin between the side steps. “Come on old man.”

***

He watched her as she spun and dipped, laughing as she did the swim move. His feet were ready to move, but his brain was too busy questioning itself, unable to produce a memory from the last time he’d danced. The song switched to one from his childhood, his mother’s favorite, “Surfin’ USA.” He began a simple two step, his arms remaining stiff by his sides.

“That’s it, Knight. Now all you’ve gotta do is loosen up.”

“I don’t see how this is helping anything.”

“It’s fun,” she said, pulling him into the center of the floor. “You can’t be too old to remember how to have fun. I bet you can’t out-dance me.”

His competitive spirit had been sparked. He bent his knees and held his arms out to the side as if he was surfing. Jumping into the air, he landed facing the opposite direction. Circling his hips made it look like he was off balance. On one leg, he snaked his arms through the air. He was in the snorkeling portion of the swim dance when an old school hip hop song came on.

Mia reached for the phone.

“No, leave it.” Clifford rolled his sleeves up. He suddenly became more pliable and bouncier. Guessing the amount of space he had, he set the table on the couch and pushed it against the wall. His brows were pulled together as he walked back and forth. Placing both hands on the ground, he kicked his feet into the air. He began pacing once more. After some time, he began to unbutton his shirt. He repeated the move.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about doing, but please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Get back little girl.” Nodding his head to the beat, he allowed it to sweep through his veins and bones. Without warning, he spun himself into a windmill.

Mia’s face resembled the women’s at the restaurant, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide.

He stopped on his side with his head propped up on his fist and his legs stretched out. After catching his breath, he hopped to his feet. “Pay up.”

“We didn’t… we didn’t shake on it.”

“In business, your word is your hand shake.” He went into the kitchen, returning with a towel and a bottle of water. After he dabbed himself dry, he replaced the table and couch to their original places. Falling onto the couch, he propped his feet up. “It’s been so long since I did that.”

She replayed the scene in her mind after he’d gotten up again, the banging and clanging interrupting the process. She read the bottle’s label as he poured two glasses. “Good old Jack Daniels. I thought you would have some 200-year-old bourbon.”

“It gets the job done.” He tapped his glass against hers and swallowed the drink down. His hair clumped between his fingers as he combed them through it. Dabbing his chest caused the coils to lay straight. “I gotta do that more often.”

“I’ve created a monster,” she said, laughing. “When did you learn how to do that?”

“Me and a couple of buddies were heavy into the hip hop scene when it first got started. I guess it’s like riding a bike.”

***

The longer he talked, the more she became distracted by how well he looked in his undershirt. It was clear that he spent a decent amount of time in the gym, his arms toned, his pecs built to a nice size and shape. He also managed to somehow make his stomach remain flat despite breathing deep. Unlike most people of his tone, his arms were all one color, demonstrating that he spent an equal amount of time out of his shirt as he did in it.

“Can I ask you something?”

He gave her his full attention.

“How many pairs of jeans do you own?”

“Two,” he said. “And one’s a back-up that has yet to see the light of day.”

“We’re going shopping tomorrow.”

“I’m swamped tomorrow. My day is jammed packed with meetings. I also promised a couple of reporters an interview about the picture. And I—”