“Okay then, Miss Reed, can you please share how you met Mr. Connelly?” A tall man in a dark pinstriped suit—Leo’s lawyer—gestured at his client, who stared at her with forgiving, softened eyes.
Bailey smiled as she crossed her legs and straightened the hem on her black skirt. “I met him when I was employed at the Beacher Inn,” she said. “That’s a hotel in downtown Chicago. His estate then employed me as a caretaker. About a month after that, I entered in a romantic relationship with him.” She loved that word: relationship. It sounded so official, so real.
The lawyer cleared his throat and then pushed on. “And what were the—ah—circumstances of your first meeting?”
“I was assigned to clean Mr. Connelly’s hotel room. When I walked in, it became obvious he required medical attention. Later, I was contacted by his agent about the job at his home, which I accepted.”
“Were you ever asked to conceal parts of his life from the public?”
“Y-yes, sir. I signed a nondisclosure form at the start of my employment.” Bailey had rehearsed all of this time and time again. She knew when to pause, when to look around, and even when to stammer. And she knew better than to stare at Leo for too long or to uncross her legs just slightly to catch the eye of that leering perv of a judge. She even knew how to soften her voice just enough to make the members of the court lean in and listen.
The lawyer pressed on, undeterred. “Miss Reed, during your employment, did you ever witness Mr. Connelly at any time partake of any drugs or alcohol?” he asked in a hurried, almost insistent manner.
Bailey swallowed hard. This was part of the case against Leo that really stung. After his last title match, he fought a man who was heckling him at a Vegas bar—ultimately putting the unruly drunkard in a coma. Leo was not arrested, but he had to remain in the country and out of trouble. For Leo, that trouble was bottled on a glass shelf behind a bar or poured in a tiny shot glass at his command.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I did—b-but only alcohol. Never drugs.” Bailey had been told not to elaborate these parts. She wanted nothing more to make the memories as short as her answers. But even knowing how big of strides Leo was making to stay clean and sober, she admitted she could not get past the man lying on the floor of his bedroom in a drunken state, the steady stream of girls doing the walk of shame in the hallway, or the glass shards she routinely swept up.
The lawyer nodded sympathetically. He knew it wouldn’t be enough. He had opened the door a crack as much as he needed it. But the lawyer sitting behind him in the pressed suit and the designer tie was practically frothing at the mouth over the door he was about to blow open.
He approached the stand and rested his hand upon the wood counter. Turning his head towards the audience, he asked her one final question, “Miss Bailey, can you describe Mr. Connelly’s character today?”
Bailey smiled bashfully, an almost embarrassed look on her face as she looked at the fingers she had twisted in knots upon her lap. She sighed audibly, then focused her gaze straight ahead. Brave, bold, and truthful, she thought to herself. “Leo has been sober since the start of our relationship—so, two months, now. I’ve never once seen him take so much as a sip of alcohol, nor has he, to my knowledge, given in to any other vices. In fact, he helped me rescue my daughter when my ex-husband kidnapped her. He could have stayed home, but he knew the right thing was to save my daughter before she was hurt, or—” She found the words sticking in her throat, and she had to swallow a sob before continuing. “—or killed. Leo isn’t just a fighter in the ring; he's more than his reputation paints him to be. He's incredibly strong, incredibly courageous, and incredibly smart. He has overcome so many obstacles, and I know he will continue to do so in the future.”
The court caught its breath. Not an eye strayed from Bailey as her slim figure sat motionless in the chair, her chin raised ever so slightly. She radiated pride and strength. No one could shake her from her devotion to Leo—no matter how much they may have or will try. Finally, the lawyer broke through the dead air with a satisfied nod. “I have no further questions for this witness, your honor,” he said neutrally and deliberately.
The judge called forth the prosecution's lawyer. He towered over her as he leaned in close to her wooden seat—but Bailey knew better than to fall for this kind of intimidation tactic. Leo’s boxing lessons had taught her that when someone attempts to stand that close over you, it’s because they want to dominate. Instead of shrinking away or shifting to another side, she stayed firmly in her chair as she listened to the younger man’s first question. “Miss Reed,” he began, “you mentioned that you believe Mr. Connelly presents no harm to the public, correct?”
The question caught her a little off-guard. Where is he going with this? she wondered. Aloud, she said simply, “That’s right.”
The lawyer smiled almost ruefully. “Miss Reed,” he said arrogantly, “I have in my possession this journal, a copy of which will be entered into court evidence. Miss Reed, is this your journal?”
Bailey stared at the small notebook Jonathan had given her to take notes on Leo’s schedule, including his visitors and drinking. Bailey had kept it dutifully, remembering to write down almost every little detail. She swallowed hard. “Yes,” she admitted, “it’s mine.”
“Miss Reed, if you could, can you please read for the court what you wrote down on page 25 of this journal?
She looked at the photocopied page he handed her. An instant twinge of regret came over her. Unable to cry out, she pushed her emotions down, cleared her throat, and began reading. “1:32 am: LC finishes handle of vodka left out from night before. 1:48 am: LC forcefully kicks out woman named Belinda from room—”
“—that will do, Miss Reed. Now, can you please describe to me what happened that night with the woman named Belinda?”
Bailey tried to think back, but in the month of her working at the home, she had seen many women come and go. Most of them left the same way: Leo kicking them out or practically dragging them to the door. He never seemed to want a girl to stay very long. Of course, these were fight groupies, and many of them didn’t seem to have the brain capacity to take a hint. Still, even if there were a random assortment of girls coming and going, the name Belinda rang a bell, and the details about the left out vodka pinpointed a distinct memory of her attempting to move the bottle before being yelled at for trying to do so.
Bailey immediately tried to think of a way to downplay her answer, but she was sworn to tell the truth, and there really wasn’t a happy way around it. “A-as I recall,” she stammered slightly, this time undeliberately, “Belinda and Mr. Connelly were arguing loudly. I was up late cleaning the common area when I saw Mr. Connelly take Belinda out of the room by her arm—”
“—so then, Miss Reed,” the arrogant prosecutor cut her off again, gesticulating dramatically as if he was on a soundstage, “how is it that you feel secure telling this court Mr. Connelly is of no danger to anyone, when only a short time ago, he acted violently towards one of his own guests?”
“N-no—if y-you would just l-let me finish—a-as far as I can recall, that guest, Belinda, threw a glass against the bedroom wall. I remember because I could distinctly hear her scream at him and then heard the glass shatter near where she was standing. He then yelled at her to stop. When she did not stop screaming, he removed her by the only way necessary. She continued to scream and shout, as well as claw at Leo, as she left.”
The lawyer humbled himself as he looked down at a notepad on his side’s desk. “Can you please read page 84, the one with the yellow sticky note, please.”
Bailey flipped to the page he indicated, this time more confident to face the pages and memories. She knew he had faults. She had recorded each and every one of them, but she would not let Leo go down with her own words. So, she read on, “3:39 pm: Visit from Layana. Yelling about boat trip?”
“This Layana… do you mean Layana Richards, the wife of American League of Boxing commissioner David Richards?”
“I-I—” she stammered again, now getting visibly nervous, “yes, sir, I mean, her name was Layana Michaels.” Bailey was unsure of where the questioning was headed. But considering it was Layana, she knew for certain that wherever it was going wouldn’t be good—for Leo or for her.
The lawyer took two steps back and looked at the judge, “Please let the record state that ‘Michaels’ is the maiden name of Layana Richards.” He then returned to question his witness, “Do you recall what they were arguing about that evening?”
Bailey was drawing a blank, “No, sir. I really can't.”
“Do you know about this boating trip Mr. Connelly and Mrs. Richards took?”
“No, sir. I was not privy to his schedule before I began working with him.”
The lawyer walked to his desk and rummaged through a black folder until he pulled out a large, blown up picture. He turned back and approached the witness box. “Miss Reed, I have here a photograph of Mr. Connelly and two women on-board what appears to be a luxury yacht. Have you ever seen this photo before today?” He handed the photo to Bailey. She looked away—shoving his relationships in her face was a tactic she knew she was going to have to face in this trial, but this was above and beyond.
But once more, she had to make another choice. Leo had told her about Layana being the wife of the boxing commissioner. He had also told her about a woman blackmailing him about these photos, but she was unsure what it had to do with the trial. She swallowed as her palms sweat. She had to go all in, no matter what the risk was. She quietly lowered her voice as she answered, “I did not know about that photo.”
Bailey’s eyes caught Leo as he turned in his seat. He was not pleased that she was lying for him. The last thing in the world he wanted her to do was to put her own life in jeopardy. She had just gotten back her daughter; they had just become a family. Her lying to the court could get her time in prison right alongside with him. It was too much. He wanted to go up there, to wrap his hands around her mouth, to pull her off of her seat, tear her demure clothing off of her body, and to sit her tiny body in his lap. He wanted to control her. He wanted to make such a stupid mistake again.
“How about the location of the photo?” He allowed her to study it. The waves crashed alongside of the boat, the sun was shining brightly, and in the background were the very tips of the golden beach sands.
“Again, I don’t know.” She pushed the photo back towards him and then crossed her arms.
“I’m very sorry, Miss Reed, but I simply do not understand how you are having so much difficulty identifying this boat. It is clearly not located here in Chicago.”
She brushed the hair from her eyes and looked fiercely towards the prosecutor. “I’m not a sailor,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ve never been out on a boat before. It could be in a bathtub for all I know.”
The courtroom chuckled. She was warned not to get smart with the answers to her questions. But this lawyer was obviously pushing for her to give more than she wanted to. She composed herself while the judge lightly banged his gavel.
“Fine, fine.” The prosecutor had obviously become annoyed with her. He was no longer playing any games. “Okay, Miss Reed, please take us through the incident involving your daughter. Where was she first taken from?”
It was if a bomb had been set off in the courtroom. Leo stood, knowing the focus had strayed from him and his character to that of Bailey’s. His lawyer joined him, shouting, “Objection! Objection! I do not see where this line of questioning is leading!”
The judge sat back in his chair, a few fingers rubbing the temple of his wrinkled skin. “I’ll allow it,” he said reasonably, “but you’re on thin ice, Mr. Nayson. Get to the point, and get there now.”
The younger man smiled and turned back towards Bailey. He walked slowly towards her, each step more deliberate than the next. “Miss Reed,” he slurred like a snake, “Again, I ask where was your daughter first taken from when she was kidnapped by your ex-husband?”
“The Boys’ and Girls’ Halfway Home Center on Starting Road.”
“That home is specifically for children about to be given up for adoption, am I correct?”
A well burst open in her throat as she struggled to hold back the tears. She had never been so ashamed of anything in her life than her having to make the choice to give her daughter Lily over to the home. Neither could afford to eat, nor could she provide for her after she lost her job. With Bailey’s grandmother dead and them living in a rat trap of a studio apartment, it was her only choice, the only way she knew how to give Lily a second chance at life, love, and family.
“Yes, sir. It's for children whose parents are unable to take care of them.”
“Why was your daughter placed in such a home in the first place?”
“I was fired from my job at the Beacher Inn and could not afford to feed both of us. I made the very hard decision to place her in the home while I attempted to get more steady employment and a better housing situation.” In her head, Bailey was ripping apart the man from limb to limb. And by the stunned look on Leo’s face, he was only seconds from doing it himself.
“Can you tell us why were you fired from the Beacher Inn?”
Another crash went off in her head. “I was fired for assisting Mr. Connelly when he required medical attention.”
“Medical attention due to overdosing on alcohol?”
“Yes, sir. I believe that was the case.” Bailey watched as Leo’s fists curled tightly into his white knuckles.
“And was there anyone else in the room at the time of his overdose?”
“There was no one in the room at the time I walked in, but I believe there was a woman prior to that.”
“A prostitute by the name of Laura Sterling, according to your former manager Jerome Peterson.” He handed the judge and Leo’s lawyer a typed up document full of testimony from Bailey’s former boss. “Miss Reed, how could you trust a man who employs prostitutes, overdoses in alcohol, and has routine bursts of anger towards women?”
“I can because I know some people deserve second chances. I've lived with alcoholics and abusive people before. I know when a person wants to change. And Leo—Mr. Connelly—wants to change. He's there for both my daughter and me. He has been slowly rehabilitating himself. He—”
The lawyer working with Mr. Nayson suddenly stood up, a phone in his hand. He gestured towards the judge who interrupted Bailey. “Mr. Devon, what is it?” he asked tersely.
“Judge, I request that we postpone this trial. I have just received word that Calvin Rhodes, the victim in this case, has been given the all-clear to testify in this court. I would like to ask the court for a period of time in which we may interview him and add him to our list of witnesses.”
Leo looked at Bailey, stunned by the news. The last he had heard, Calvin Rhodes was still in the rehab center, unable to talk. Leo’s punch had not only put him in a coma, but had left him with the inability to speak or to remember the night. Apparently, the situation had changed. And now, Leo would have to face the man not in a ring or outside a bar, but right here in court for all the world to see.