Page 36 of Courtroom Drama
The answer surprises me. “While flying through the air and avoiding collisions over earsplitting motors?”
He huffs and his mouth parts. “Yeah.”
“What do you think about? On your bike?”
“I don’t know.” He straightens. “Life. Roadway signs. Hairless cats.”
“How does a man of so few words write such punny roadway signs? This feels like one of life’s great mysteries.”
“Better on paper,” he says, as if it’s an obvious answer.
“Like the pages of a twelve-year-old girl’s padlocked diary,” I confirm.
He releases his jaw, and perhaps I imagine it, but the corners of his mouth curl up farther than I thought possible.
“Wait, is that a smile?” I muse.
His mouth falls. “I can smile,” he says, though his face makes no movement in the direction of said smile.
“Right,” I say, crumpling the peanut butter cup package in my hand and walking past him toward the courtroom. I feel him watching as I do, and I can’t help the extra sway in my hips this notion causes.
After lunch, D.A. Stern and the prosecution continue their parade of Margot slander, this time in the form of her self-built business. Bess Waterford is called to the stand.
Margot’s former business partner plods to the front of the courtroom, her black patent leather Gucci loafers squeaking as she walks. The irony of those shoes is not lost on me. They were a gift from Margottwo years ago for her birthday, the handover of the expensive pair aired during the finale of season six.
Bess looks like the “after” picture of a former plain Jane who’s undergone an expensive makeover, with her heavy but well-blended makeup, highlighted cheekbones, and svelte frame. There’s an ongoing debate online over whether she is actually pretty or simply meticulously crafted. People on the internet have very strong opinions about her face.
Once Bess has taken the stand, at D.A. Stern’s urging, she explains, “I was Margot’s business partner for GotMar when it launched and for the first year.”
“And for those who are not familiar, what is GotMar?” D.A. Stern asks.
“It’s a line of push-up bras, which Margot launched in season three of the show.”
And sells exceptionally well, I know. I’ve seen the GotMar display at Nordstrom, right beside a table of Skims. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, realizing I’m wearing one of her products under my A-line dress right now. I instinctively tug at the neckline of said dress to ensure no evidence of this coincidence is visible. I will note mine is from the everyday line and, though adequately supportive, not push-up.
Having Bess Waterford on the stand talking about bras makes me think of the shopping trip to Walmart at age eleven with my mom for my first bra. I needed one several months before, having taken to layering and sweatshirts to hide the growth below, but this was the first time my mom attended to the need. She kept calling it a “training bra,” which I deemed archaic. What was I training, exactly? My breasts how to stay put? They were hardly ample enough to go anywhere.
I don’t particularly remember what that first bra looked like or if we argued about which one to get. What I do recall is that my mom was nice. Doting, even. I don’t know what made her especially attentive that day, but I took in every bit of it. I went home with two “training bras,” a sugar high from a Rocky Road cone, and a hardcover copy ofCinder. I hadn’t thought of that day in a long time. I still savor the rare glimpses Iremember of an attentive mother. It’s all I ever wanted from my parents when I was young.
My baby sister Gen’s cherubic face flashes across my mind, and I wonder what her first bra-shopping experience will be, if I’ll be there for it.
Next to me, Damon clears his throat, and I look at him. We make eye contact, and just that link causes a jolt along my spine. His eyes are always filled with so much, but I never quite know what. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, fighting the urge to take Damon’s hand in mine, right here in this courtroom, and squeeze it.
18.
Character Witness (n., phrase)
testifies to a person’s positive or negative character traits and reputation in the community
possibly of the backstabbing kind
“Tell us what your relationship with Margot was like when you worked for her,” D.A. Stern asks Bess Waterford, returning my attention to the stand. A pen bounces wildly between Stern’s fingers as I interpret his question:Tell us all the reasons you hate Margot.
Bess Waterford looks to Margot briefly, then flutters her eyes to the gallery. “She was... intense. Demanding.”
“How so?”
“Nothing was ever good enough. She was always appalled by our ‘lack of professionalism.’ ” She uses air quotes. “Meanwhile, she did a bunch of weird shit herself.”
