With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Three

Tiffany looked at her, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the hint of an underlying meaning beneath Samantha’s slightly forceful tone. She nodded and stood up, walking beside Samantha to the bar. “What’s up?”

“What?” asked Samantha, looking slightly confused. “I just asked you to help me.”

“Cut me that crap,” said Tiffany, shaking her head. “I can see right through you. I’m a lawyer, remember?”

“Alright,” said Samantha with gritted teeth, “do you mind telling me what the hell happened to my brother?”

Tiffany furrowed her eyebrows, looked down, and then turned her head to look at Samantha. “What do you mean?”

“Spare me the damn I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look and tell me the truth,” snapped Samantha.

They reached the bar and Tiffany sat down on one of the high barstools, facing Samantha. She waved the bartender towards their direction. She smiled at the bartender. “I’ll have a scotch on the rocks, with a twist, a Dalton, and a .46 Magnum,” she said, smiling gratefully at the bartender. “Thank you.”

Samantha raised one finger up and smiled at the bartender. “And I’ll have an Appletini.”

“What makes you think that something’s wrong?” asked Tiffany.

Samantha raised her eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? Look at him! He’s fucking sad all the time, he finished his drink in one gulp, and when he smiles, it’s as if someone kicked his puppy to the ground from the thirtieth story of a building. His smile’s all strained and it’s just freaking weird.”

Tiffany chuckled. “Never one to hold back on words, are you?”

“No,” said Samantha, shaking her head. “Our parents have actually scolded me for my—ah—colorful words,” she said, using finger quotes to emphasize her words. She briefly glanced at their table, sighing as she saw Samuel stare off into space, his eyes unseeing and his figure slightly slumped, as if it took great effort to just sit there. She turned to look at Tiffany and raised her eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me, or what?”

Tiffany glanced at Samuel’s direction. “I can’t exactly tell you, Sam. As much as I would like to tell you, I can’t. It’s a matter of life, death, and government policies. I can’t break protocol.”

Samantha sighed and shook her head. “Tiff, I don’t give a fuck about protocol. All I want is to know about why my brother’s acting like this, and how I can help him. That’s all.”

Tiffany looked at her sadly. “I want so badly to tell you. Really, I do. But I can’t. This can get me killed. This can also get Sam, Josh, and Christian killed. I hope you understand.”

“Tiff, please,” whispered Samantha, her voice soft and pleading, “I love my brother and it worries me because this guy isn’t my brother. This guy is a mere shadow of what my brother used to be, and do you know why I know this guy? It’s because I’ve seen this guy when Spence died.”

Tiffany closed her eyes, and with one last look at Samuel, she turned to look at Samantha. “Two years ago, Sam had a fiancée named—”

“—Clarissa, I know,” said Samantha, nodding.

“Right,” said Tiffany. “He had a fiancée. Around that time, a new person joined our team at the firm. The Criminal Justice team had five members instead of four. Her name was Reini Saunders, and quickly, all of us became friends with her.”

Tiffany looked around her for a moment; at the orchestra which was playing a soft melodious tune so pleasing to the ears; at the people gently swaying with their partners on the dance floor and the children trying to look like grown-ups by trying to waltz with the others; at the people sitting down at round tables, conversing softly and tasting magnificent wine, and breathed deeply, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, ever. It was a secret only few knew, and a secret that had to stay a secret.

She took a deep breath and wiped her suddenly sweaty hands on her dress. “We had this case, and Samuel was looking for a brown folder at his apartment. It was something he needed in court, and he searched the entire apartment for it. He didn’t find it since it was in Reini’s apartment—the day before, we were at Reini’s because it was her birthday, and well, he left it there—but he didn’t know that so he just kept on looking. What he found instead were evidence that his very fiancée was a spy of an organization named The Alliance.”

Samantha snorted. The bartender went towards them and put their drinks on the counter, smiling all the while at Samantha. Samantha gave him a flirty smile and waved her fingers slightly, winking at him saucily. The bartender grinned and walked away, shaking his head.

Tiffany looked at the bartender’s direction and raised her eyebrow. “Flirting now, are you?” she said, not looking at Samantha.

Samantha laughed; a clear ringing tone, high and unblemished, a tune alike a soft tinkling of a small bell. “Oh hush, you,” she said, waving Tiffany off. She took her drink and sipped it, holding the martini glass gracefully in her hand; the very picture of a woman of power. “Are you serious? You’re kidding, right?”

Tiffany gave her a deadpanned look. “Does it look like I’m kidding you?”

Samantha exhaled slightly, shaking her head slowly. “Wow,” she breathed. “You are serious.”

“Dead serious,” muttered Tiffany, getting the drinks and hopping down the stool. “If you can excuse me, I will give these to the boys.”

Samantha nodded. “Go. You better come back and tell me the whole story, though.”

“I will,” said Tiffany, regarding her with a look that told Samantha that she needed to keep quiet or else.

Samantha took a deep breath and once again faced the counter. She looked at her suddenly empty Appletini and raised her pointer finger. The bartender immediately walked towards her and she smiled her flirtiest smile, putting her elbow on the counter and leaning on her arm.

“Three shots of whiskey, please?”

She needed a strong drink.