—Aubrey

Subject: Re: Date.

I always answer truthfully. Is the word “stipulations” not plural?

—Andrew

Subject: Re: Re: Date.

You have to be a complete gentleman. I don’t want to be f**ked in another bathroom…

What time are you picking me up?

—Aubrey

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Date.

I actually wasn’t planning on f**king you tonight, but since you’ve clearly entertained that possibility, I’ll be sure to send a list of potential locations prior to the date.

Eight o’ clock.

—Andrew

I knocked on her door at 7:58, dressed in a black designer suit I’d purchased hours ago.

There was no answer, and before I could knock again, the door swung open and she stepped out wearing a short black dress that left little to the imagination.

“Are you aware that it’s still winter?” I trailed my finger along her exposed shoulders. “You’re going to need a coat.”

She looked behind me. “You took the subway here?”

“Yes.”

“We’re taking the subway on our date?”

“The car will come later.” I smiled as confusion spread across her face.

She grabbed her coat from inside and shut the door, looking up at me. “Do you even know how to use the subway?”

“Of course I do,” I said, clasping her hand. “I wasn’t always well-off when I lived here…”

A light snow fell as we made our way to the subway tunnel, and she leaned against me—pressing her body closer to mine. Holiday lights were strung about the tallest buildings—sparkling against the night, and a faint sense of excitement swirled through the air.

There weren’t that many people out tonight, and as we boarded a nearly empty train, Aubrey laughed at that fact.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a subway like this,” she said. “I usually have to fight for my own tiny space.”

“Hmmm.” I prevented her from taking a seat, instead making her share a pole with me. “How did your audition really go today? Surely you have more to say about it than okay.”

“I was crying when I sent that text. I was overwhelmed.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“I landed Odette/Odile in Swan Lake—on a professional level.” She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “I still can’t believe it…All of my dreams are actually coming true.”

“Maybe you’re meant to play that role…” I wiped a stray tear from her eyes.

“Maybe.” She leaned closer. “I’m just happy that they’re giving us the next few days off…I think I’ll be able to relax and keep up with the news a bit more. You know, actually have some semblance of a life outside of the dance hall.”

“You could spend more time with me if you want to take a break. The news in this city is overrated and mostly false.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” I said, looking into her eyes. “I wouldn’t believe half of the shit in any of these papers.”

She smiled. “Have you heard anything about the huge trial that’s happening this week?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s more than one.”

“No…” She shook her head. “Not like this one…”

I hesitated. “What makes this one so special?”

“It’s more intriguing than special…It’s about two lawyers who once shared a firm—both of them were big shots, you know? One of them even won against the government in his very first case.”

“It was probably a lucky break.”

“I don’t think so.” She looked into my eyes. “I’ve read the transcripts. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the verdict actually affected public policy.”

I said nothing.

“But the thing is, he never got credit for his work—outside of word of mouth from people who knew the details, you know?” She paused. “But anyway, from what I’ve read and pieced together, it seems like he was falsely accused of a laundry list of federal charges a few years later.”

“Aubrey…”

“It looks like everyone ran with the story—all of the papers, all of the news outlets, and the truth wasn’t filtered until months later, after his name was already tarnished.”

I stared at her, begging her to stop, but she continued.

“The charges are still pending against his old partner to this day, that’s just how many there were. But him—this upstanding lawyer with one hell of a track record, he just vanished. Into thin air.”

“If he was that upstanding, then I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” I said.

“I thought that, too…” She searched my eyes for answers. “But I think the guy I’m talking about is capable of anything.”

“What are the names in this case you’re speaking of?”

“The accused is Kevin Hart, and the key witness is Liam Henderson.”

“I’ll google it tonight.” I sighed, not wanting to continue this conversation.

A voice came over the speakers, announcing our stop, and I took her hand again.

“I know you made me agree to stipulations,” I said, looking at her as we stepped off, “but can you agree to one of mine?”