Page 28 of Twisted Trust (Mafia Lords of Sin #10)
LEVI
A week ago, Maeve told me she didn’t want me at her court hearing. Said I would be too much of a distraction and I was to wait outside.
I tried, but the thought of her facing all of this alone didn’t sit right with me, and I wasn’t going to let her fly to New York alone.
So Chip and my mother are taking care of Scott while I sit at the back of the courtroom staring down the judge who waits patiently as both Maeve and her old landlord are read their respective rights.
In the days leading up to this, I looked into Maeve’s case as closely as I could, hoping to find something that would get her out of this. Unfortunately, everything about it seems airtight and other than threatening the judge myself, I’m stuck as an observer.
Maeve stands on the left side of the courtroom in a navy suit Marcella provided for her.
She’s really taken to caring for Maeve since the engagement party and I suspect it’s because she’s excited to get to know Scott.
Too often, she would make comments about growing too old to play with children with how long it was taking me to find someone.
Maeve’s hair is scraped back into a neat bun with pins keeping her bangs arranged to one side. She drums her fingers nervously against the desk and stands poker straight while the other person present, her old landlord, George, is read his rights. I study George quietly.
His shoulders slouch down into his stocky frame and greasy, combed hair barely hides his receding hairline.
A striped shirt stretches over his body, straining at the waist, and he obnoxiously clears his throat several times before the officer of the court even makes it back to the judge.
My dislike for him rises by the second because what kind of man does all of this for a measly eight hundred bucks?
Being unable to save her from this is killing me. I cross my arms firmly over my chest, gripping each elbow until pain throbs in my joints.
“Have the defendants been sworn in?” The judge is an older, tightly-lipped woman with graying black hair swept back into a short ponytail and oblong glasses balanced on the end of a large nose.
“Yes, Your Honor,” replies the officer of the court.
“Alright.” She sniffs and arranges some papers before her. “Alright, Mister uhh… Claryn?”
“Yes, your honor. I’m George Claryn.”
“You’re suing Miss Jackson here for unpaid rent, utilities, and apartment damage, is that correct?”
“Yes, your honor.”
I watch Maeve stiffen slightly and her hands clasp tightly together.
“For what amount?”
“Eight thousand dollars.”
What?
Maeve told me it was eight hundred, but by the look on her face, she’s as shocked as I am.
“Wait, that’s not right—” Maeve tries to speak, but she’s immediately cut off.
“Wait your turn, Miss Jackson. George, tell me what happened. Miss Jackson — Maeve, is it?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Maeve was a tenant of yours?”
“That’s correct. She stayed in the apartment for about eight months. At first she kept to herself but because she was pregnant, I ended up helping her quite a bit.”
“I don’t need your life story, George. The only information I care about is the information related to your claim. Now, according to this…” The Judge pauses and glances down. “You’re claiming that Maeve ran out on her lease with you while already owing you two months’ rent, is that correct?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“How much were you charging her?”
“Four hundred.”
“A month?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“That’s very generous.” The judge glances at Maeve.
“She seemed like she was going through a hard time and I was trying to be kind. With the baby and all.”
“So she owed you eight hundred in rent when she disappeared?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“You.” The judge turns to Maeve. “Is this true, you owed him rent? Why did you leave without paying what you owed?”
Maeve swallows hard. “Yes, your honor. I was two months behind on my rent because it was impossible for me to keep a job with a newborn and I got very sick and couldn’t work. I had no income.”
“That’s not Mr. Claryn’s problem, though, is it? You were staying in his apartment on very low rent, correct?”
“Y–Yes, your honor.”
“And you didn’t pay?”
“No, your honor.”
“You owe Mr. Claryn eight hundred dollars in owed rent. What’s next?” The judge moves quickly and glances back at her paper. “Mr. Claryn, why are you asking for eight thousand?”
“Well, you see, when she left, she left the apartment in such a terrible state that I couldn’t rent it out again for months. I had to pay an insane amount to get a lot of things repaired.”
“Damage?” The judge glances up. “What damage?”
“There was a door hanging off its hinge, several broken windows, a smashed table and holes in the wall, your honor.”
My eyes narrow, attention splitting between the sudden paleness on Maeve’s face and the smug look in George’s eye. From where I’m sat, I can’t see his whole face, but something about his tone makes my gut twist.
“Do you have pictures?” The judge holds out her hand as George nods and passes the pictures to the officer of the court. He delivers them to the judge and she flicks through them. “What is this? What did you do to the apartment, Maeve?”
“That wasn’t me.” Maeve’s voice trembles as she speaks. “That was all him.”
“You’re claiming he did this?”
Maeve nods.
“Tell me what happened.”
“He was angry with me about the missed rent but he kept telling me it was alright. Then one night, he came around the apartment and he was so angry with me because he’d seen someone leave the apartment and claimed I was cheating on him.”
“Cheating?” The judge’s brow lifts. “Were you two in a relationship?”
“No.” Maeve shakes her head sharply. “But he acted like we were.”
“Is this true?” Her head snaps to George.
“No,” George replies. “She always had men coming and going. I never questioned it because it wasn’t my business.”
“That’s not true!” Maeve cuts in. “I had a… friend come by one night and two nights later, he turned up at my door yelling at me for cheating on him. He kicked down the door. That’s why it was broken.
He attacked me. The holes in the wall are from his fists when I was trying to calm him down because my baby was in the next room.
He hit me and threw me on the table. That’s why it broke.
I don’t know how the windows broke, but it wasn’t me.
It was him. That’s also why I ran from the apartment. ”
Every word from Maeve cuts deeper and deeper into me. She pours out this pain into a cold courtroom to a judge who looks very unimpressed throughout the whole thing.
“Do you have any pictures?” the judge asks.
“Of what, your honor?”
“You claim he attacked you so I’m assuming there were injuries. Do you have any proof of those?”
“I–I…” Maeve stands there like a deer in headlights. “No, I never thought to?—”
“Because it’s not true,” George interrupts. “I never did any of those things. She had men coming and going at all hours and her apartment was like that when I found it. I figured she was a prostitute and a client got angry or something.”
“No!” Maeve raises her voice. “That’s a lie.”
“Miss Jackson.” The judge cuts in calmly. “Did you file a police report for the incident?”
“No. I didn’t call the police.”
“What about going to the hospital?”
“No.”
“Do you have anything to back up your claims?”
“No.” Maeve’s voice gets quieter. “But the taxi driver who drove me that night, he saw what he did and he said?—”
“Miss Jackson, I have to stop you there,” the judge interrupts. “If you have a witness and they are not here, I can’t hear anything they said or did because that’s hearsay, do you understand? You should have brought them with you.”
My anger simmers hotter and hotter like my gut is a volcano, and I’m seconds away from exploding.
How the fuck was Maeve supposed to find a random taxi driver from five years ago?
Beyond my fury that this bastard hurt her, and my rage at the judge, there’s overwhelming guilt.
The only reason Maeve couldn’t go to the cops or the hospital was because of me.
The friend who came to see her must have been the man warning her that I was on the warpath and she fled, fearing anything else she did would create a paper trail leading me right to her.
I may not have been there, but this is all my fault.
“I understand,” Maeve says quietly.
“So, George, you claim the apartment was like this when you found it and Maeve, you claim he’s the one who caused the damage. Were you conducting sex work out of your apartment?”
“No,” Maeve replies. Her shoulders are slumping and her fingers have paled with how tightly she’s gripping her hands. “I was unwell and had a baby. I never would do something like that.”
“But you have nothing to back up your claim?”
“No, your honor.”
“Unfortunately for you, Mr. Claryn does. Geroge, do you have an invoice for the repairs?”
“Yes, it’s right here,” George replies, and he hands the paper to the officer of the court. “It also lists further damage she caused in the apartment such as stains and?—”
“She had a baby, Mr. Claryn. I don’t care about stains.
Stains don’t stop you from renting out an apartment, so I’m going to ignore those.
But the cost of the damages and unpaid rent, as well as time lost due to unlivable conditions…
” The judge adjusts her glasses. “Miss Jackson, you are to pay Mr. Claryn the sum of seventy-five hundred dollars within thirty days. Case closed.”
What?
There’s no fucking way.
How can the judge sit there and hear all of that from Maeve and not want to look into things further? I rise from my seat like a bullet the second the gavel crashes and the officer of the court steps forward while motioning to both Maeve and George.
I want to kill him.
The money isn’t the issue. Knowing he attacked Maeve is. Everything she told me about that period in her life, from the baby to the illness and fleeing for safety, knowing she had to deal with this scumbag makes it all so much worse.
I should have been there to help her.
Outside the courtroom, I find Maeve facing down George in the hallway. He stands a few feet away from her with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.
“You really thought you could run from me?” George sneers as I stride closer.
“Leave me alone,” Maeve murmurs, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Five years and you’re back where you started. I’ll take that seventy-five hundred and then some because I know the law, I know what else I can sue you for?—”
“One more word,” I snarl as I shove myself between them and grab George by his throat. “And I’ll squeeze so hard your eyes will pop out your fat face like fucking sour grapes, understand?”
George’s eyes widen and both his hands close around my wrist. Crowding my body closer, I keep my arm and grip low so any onlookers will think I’m just adjusting his collar.
“Levi.” Maeve’s hand slides into my other hand and grips tightly. “Leave it, please.”
I don’t want to. I want to kill him for daring to touch her. I want to beat an apology out of him and make him spit out seventy-five hundred dollars’ worth of pleading from his sorry mouth.
“The fuck are you?” George chokes around my fist as he begins to struggle.
“Levi, please,” Maeve hisses, tugging on my arm. “I want to go home.”
“You thank her,” I growl down at him as I slowly release him. “She’s the only reason you're still fucking breathing.”