CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Pax
It hurt like hell to watch Stacey go through with the trial. Even seeing the defendant in the courtroom was hard, it’s difficult to look evil in the eye. I’d watched as Stacey did it, marshalling her courage, and my heart went out to her, you could see the pulse leaping in her throat, her eyes filled with hurt and rage as she confronted her attacker. Me, I just wanted to hammer the asshole into the pavement, that guy was nothing, less than zero.
The verdict came out guilty, but we expected that. There was no disputing the facts of the case, Lester was a dirty douche who’d tried to make a buck off of Stacey’s naked body.
But that’s the worst thing about the process. Throughout the testimony, I could see our sister question herself. Should she have noticed that her peephole was different? Why didn’t she check-in under an alias? All public figures do, don’t they? The self-doubt and second-guessing heaped on our little sister was painful, we could see her crumpling under the strain, the barbs unbearable.
So Peyton and I took things into our own hands. We didn’t get to where we are by being the nicest guys. You don’t get to the top without making some enemies, and my twin and I have a system for keeping those enemies in check. Fight fire with fire, right?
“Sister,” I said to her calmly as we sat in the living room, “we want you to meet someone.” Stacey had moved in with us by now, allegedly to calm her nerves, and it was partially true. We wanted her to feel better, to be able to breathe deeply, and there was nowhere better than our Long Island estate. The water was tranquil, there was private beachfront and plenty of sunshine to keep her spirits up.
Even more, we wanted her under our protection, installed at our home with its twelve-foot gates and top-of-the-line electronic security system. Plus, there was always us, only idiots would target the home of two six-four pro athletes.
“I don’t know Pax,” she said listlessly, her face pale and turned away. “I’m not really up for meeting anyone.” The aftermath had been hard, there’d been public outrage about the outcome of the trial, but nothing had changed. The six month prison term still stood.
“I want you to meet our friend Henry,” I said slowly. “He’s a friend of ours from Alabama.”
“Oh another football player?” she asked disinterestedly. “No Pax, I can’t, I’m just not up to it, I’m sorry.”
That was true, our step had become a shut-in, only leaving the house for a quick run or to take the dog out for a walk. Stacey had taken leave from her job to recuperate, but we were worried that she’d never go back, simply fade away, a wraith, a shadow pacing around the house.
“No honey,” I said slowly. “Henry’s an attorney, he was at Bama Law while we were undergrads. Now he’s a law professor who’s been following your case.”
Her nose wrinkled. “What could a law professor have to say?” she asked. “Everything’s done and sealed. No changing anything,” she said bitterly.
“Well, that’s the thing,” I said slowly. “Peyton and I talked with Henry about the trial and he’s brought up the possibility of bringing up the judge for recall.”
“Recall?” she asked, confused. “I don’t get it. What does that mean?”
“You’ll have to let an attorney explain because I don’t know all the details myself, but what I understand is that if a state judge does a bad job, he or she is subject to removal from their position. It’s called a recall,” I said.
“I don’t want to go through this again,” Stacey said vehemently. “I just want things to end.”
My heart went out to her.
“I know what you’re saying, but Henry’s assured us that a recall is different from a trial. There’s no trial, it just means that Henry will spearhead an attempt to gather signatures for a petition to unseat the judge. If we get enough signatures, then it’ll go up for a vote to the people of New York. If enough people vote yes, then he’ll lose his position as judge.”
“Is this like the Gray Davis recall?” Stacey asked slowly. “I remember Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor in the middle of someone else’s term.”
“That’s it exactly,” I nodded. “The people of California were unhappy with Davis’s performance so in the middle of his term, they recalled him. On the same ballot, there was a second question as to who would replace him, and Arnie won.”
“Oh,” was all Stacey said. But I could tell she was thinking about it.
“It won’t hurt to meet Henry,” added Peyton persuasively. “He’s a great guy, we almost thought about asking him to be our agent when we went up for the draft, but he was more interested in a legal career,” said my twin. “But we’ve stayed in touch and Henry’s more than happy to talk with you now.”
My sister was silent. But finally she nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet with him and hear what he has to say about this recall stuff. But no promises,” she said. “I don’t know if I can live through the trauma again.”
“No worries, Sister,” said my twin carefully. “We won’t let that happen to you.”
And he was speaking the truth. Because no one could be more important to us now, after everything we’d been through. Supporting our step was paramount to us, her happiness, her joy, was our first priority. We had to make this happen.