STILL FEELING STUNG by Davis’s cross-examination of Rich Conklin and the stress of the entire horrid1 day, Yuki left the Hall of Justice by the back door and walked several blocks out of her way, checking her BlackBerry as she walked.
She deleted messages, made notes for the file, sent an e-mail to Red Dog, who was now back in his home office asking for a report. She entered the All Day parking lot from the rear and had just opened the door of her brownish-gray Acura sedan when she heard someone call her name.
Yuki turned, frisked the crowded lot with her eyes, saw Jason Twilly loping toward her against traffic on Bryant, calling out, “Yuki, hey, hang on a minute.” Yuki reached into the car, put her briefcase2 on the passenger seat, and turned back to face the superstar writer, who was closing in.
Twilly looked fantastic, Yuki thought, as she watched him maneuver3 through the crowded parking lot. She liked everything about the way he put his act together: the cut of his hair, the Oliver Peoples glasses framing his intense dark brown eyes. Today he was wearing a fine blue shirt under a well-fitted gray jacket, and his pants were buckled4 with a plain Hermès belt that must’ve cost seven hundred dollars.
Twilly pulled up to where she stood with her car door opened between them, not even blowing hard from his run.
“Hey, Jason. What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” he said, eyes locking on hers. “I just wanted to tell you that I thought you rocked today.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. You’re great on your feet, and it’s smart the way you’re handling the press. Davis is out there campaigning on the front steps and you’re -”
“The defense5 has to spin this,” Yuki said. “I have to prove Junie Moon is guilty, and that’s not going to happen in front of the Hall.”
Twilly nodded his agreement, said, “You know, I wanted to tell you that I overheard a conversation in the hallway, and what I heard is that Junie’s a little slow, below average IQ.”
“I don’t get that impression,” said Yuki, wondering what the hell Twilly was getting at. Was he working an angle? Or was her six months in the DA’s office making her cynical6?
Twilly set down his briefcase on the asphalt, took a soft leather eyeglass case from his breast pocket, removed a small square of cloth, and massaged7 the pollution off his Oliver Peeps.
“I gathered that Davis is going to get an expert shrink to tell the jury that Junie is dumb and suggestible and that the brutal8 cops could make her say anything.”
“Well, thanks for the heads-up, Jason.”
“No problem. Look, Yuki,” he said, adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose. “I’m dying to pick your very lovely mind. Would you have dinner with me? Please?”
Yuki shifted her weight in her narrow, pointy shoes, thought of the nice cold Coors waiting for her at home. The ton of work she had to do.
“No offense9, Jason. When I’m trying a case, I like to be alone at the end of the day. I need the solitude10 and the time to clear my head -”
“Yuki. You’ve got to eat, so why not let me treat you to a lavish11 expense account dinner? Caviar, lobster12, French champagne13. Anyplace you want to go. You’ll be home by eight, and no business talk either. Just romance,” Twilly said, giving her his full frontal, lopsided grin.
He was charming and he knew it.
Yuki laughed in the face of such practiced seduction, and then she surprised herself.
She said yes.
1 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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2 briefcase | |
n.手提箱,公事皮包 | |
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3 maneuver | |
n.策略[pl.]演习;v.(巧妙)控制;用策略 | |
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4 buckled | |
a. 有带扣的 | |
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5 defense | |
n.防御,保卫;[pl.]防务工事;辩护,答辩 | |
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6 cynical | |
adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的,不信世道向善的 | |
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7 massaged | |
按摩,推拿( massage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8 brutal | |
adj.残忍的,野蛮的,不讲理的 | |
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9 offense | |
n.犯规,违法行为;冒犯,得罪 | |
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10 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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11 lavish | |
adj.无节制的;浪费的;vt.慷慨地给予,挥霍 | |
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12 lobster | |
n.龙虾,龙虾肉 | |
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13 champagne | |
n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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