Fenella’s POV
Another week passed, and we reached the end of January. Laird was supposed to rest for another month, but he insisted on going to New York. The first reason was that he couldn’t stand his father at home anymore. The second reason was that he couldn’t help but miss me.
I smiled happily as I recalled how Laird whined like a child to go to New York. He didn’t want to be separated from me, he said. That’s why, now, I spent all day with him resting in his apartment.
However, Laird couldn’t fully rest in New York. Prosecutor Golden called us several times to request written testimony. After going unheeded twice, we finally answered the official summons on the third call.
“Why are you smiling?”
Laird’s voice woke my reverie. He leaned in slightly to look at my face from the front. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Oh, no, nothing.”
I cleared my throat to get rid of my thoughts about how wonderful it would be to stay with Laird all day. This one week was a fantastic time for us. We’d relax in the apartment, then walk together every morning and evening around the park. During the day we would have picnics in the park, buy bread or dinner, or just put clothes in the laundry, all together.
I felt happy but still a little anxious, realizing that these times were coming to an end. Laird would eventually go to work as usual, while I would be busy with projects with Jessy. There would be no more time alone all day like this.
“We’re here,” Laird said.
Laird knocked on one of the doors at the end of the hallway. The door opened, and I immediately saw Mr. Golden’s assistant. The two of us then entered a room that looked messy, with piles of documents all around the room. There was only one small space for us to sit at the corner of a table that was also full of documents.
“Ah, you’ve come. I must say you took a long time to answer the call. I almost issued a warrant.” Prosecutor Golden chuckled crisply as he invited us to sit around the table with him.
“I’m still recovering, old man. You put pressure on my bleeding stomach wound yourself.” Laird shook his head and smiled lazily.
“But Fenella is not recovering, is she?”
“We’re in this together or none at all.” I replied quickly.
“Yes, we’re one package,” Laird added.
“Yeah, right.” The man snorted. “Well, there’s not much I want from you today. I just need your written testimony as witnesses for the trial later.”
“Questions.” I held my hand low.
“Yes.”
“Does that mean we’ll testify at the trial?”
“Are you deaf? I just mentioned that.” Prosecutor Golden frowned and asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Hey, watch your mouth. We’re unpaid here,” Laird growled in a low tone.
“Oh, bullshit. Don’t think I don’t know about the bonus money Fenella kept. We’re not paying you guys, but I’m not pressing about confiscating that money.” The man laughed and waved his hand.
“How did you know?” asked Laird.
“Matthew told me.” Mr. Golden squared his shoulders.
“Then how could Matthew tell you? He’s usually so secretive about limited conversations.” Laird folded his arms across his chest.
“Now he’s paid to be an informant for the FBI and the DA’s office.”
“Excuse me? You used to hate how he gathered information. That’s why you kicked him out of this office.” Laird furrowed his brow even deeper.
“As an assistant prosecutor, yes, I disliked the way he often used illegal means. But now that he’s hired as an unofficial informant, we don’t have to take responsibility for all the illegal things he does.” Mr. Golden sneered as he shrugged his shoulders.
“How convenient for your selfish ass.” Laird snorted.
“Do you want me to kick your ass out of this office too?”
“I can walk my ass off here by myself.”
“Hey, enough!” I called out loudly in the room to break up their feud. “What is your problem? Yesterday you cooperated and cared for each other, then today you’re back to being like dogs and cats.”
I scoffed as I laughed in disbelief at their behavior. As I recall, Mr. Golden was already almost 50 years old, while Laird was only half that man’s age. Despite that fact, they still argued endlessly.
“Yesterday is history.” The two of them simultaneously said that.
Laird’s eyes blinked, while Prosecutor Golden’s face immediately contorted in displeasure. Before they argued again, I saw the only glass jar of cookies on the table. I hurriedly picked up the jar and held it up to them.
“Can we have some of this, please?” I called out, interrupting them with a big, forced laugh.
“I can get you some tea.” The assistant prosecutor suddenly stood up with a nervous look.
“Oh, yeah, tea would be nice. Thank you,” I told him. He then busied himself at the table near the hot water dispenser.
Mr. Golden and Laird were now silent. Mr. Golden tapped his fingers on the table, while Laird still had his hand to his chest. It seemed that my interruption was successful enough for them to realize that there were other people in this world besides them.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I frowned as I took a closer look at the jar in my hand. “I recognize this glass jar and these chocolate chip cookies,” I said, noticing the lid of the glass jar decorated with a red ribbon.
“Are these the cookies my mom made? Why are the cookies heart-shaped?” I turned my head toward prosecutor Golden with narrowed eyes.
“Ah! Are you flirting with her mom?” Laird spread a lame smile.
“I’m not! It’s her way of giving thanks to everybody. She said she gave the cookies to Jessy and Matthew too.” The man dodged with a stammering exclamation.
“But yours are different from Jessy’s. His cookies are round and normal-looking, while yours are heart-shaped with different colors of chocolate chips.” I lowered the glass jar back onto the table.
My eyes scrutinized every corner of the man’s face. There was definitely a hint of redness on both cheeks. His white Caucasian skin did nothing to hide the blush.
“Shit.” Laird muttered.
“It’s nothing! Come on, let’s just start with the testimony. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be testifying in court from my side. Period.”
“Apparently you’re just being denial.” Laird snorted.
“Are you done with the tea yet? Let’s finish the testimony from them immediately.”
Mr. Golden turned to his assistant, dodging Laird’s accusation. The assistant then hurriedly carried a tray with three glasses of hot tea.
“I’m on it.” The assistant set down the teacups, brought the tray back to the dispenser, then took the laptop to our table.
“Now, I want you to answer my questions, take home a printed copy, and memorize it until the trial.” Prosecutor Golden’s voice turned serious again.