#obw

C: Is it boring?

G: Very.

C: Do you know what isn’t boring?

G: What?

Cass sent you a photo

Gage snorted, and had to fight the smile from his face. The photo of Cass was a selfie, grinning like an idiot, he was leaning over the largest chocolate and bubble gum, ice cream sundae Gage had ever seen. It looked like it was almost bigger than Cass’s head.

G: Don’t get brain freeze.

C: You know you’re jealous

With a smirk and a sigh Gage turned his phone off and dropped it back into his blazer pocket. Across the polished oak table the two men were still arguing over the plea. Mr Tomlinson swore that he was not guilty, but the other lawyer was trying to dissuade him from making such a plea. They’d all see through that instantly, there was a camera recording after all. They would all see the man taking a crowbar to the car window and then taking it to the driver. The only way he was going to be given not guilty was if the whole jury were blind. Or by a miracle.

“Okay, enough.” The words were deep and quiet, but it silenced both of the men. “This has an easy solution.” The other Lawyer threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, probably that frustration that Gage hadn’t spoken up sooner. He stood up with a stomp.

“I’m going to go and get a drink. I need to cool off.” He glared at Tomlinson. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him.” He waved a hand at the prisoner and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went. Gage just rolled his eyes. Drama Queen. He was always making a scene.

“Mr Tomlinson,” Gage opened the thin beige folder on the table in front of him, he flicked through a couple of pages. “If you want to plead not guilty then I can help you with that.” He pulled a single sheet out from the pile and took a pen from his breast pocket. It looked like a fountain pen, but it was engraved with gold markings, in strange twists and twirls.

“There really is a simple solution, but first I must ask you. How badly do you want to avoid jail time?” Killer. Murderer.

Tomlinson looked at Gage with big wet eyes, putting his cuffed hands on the table he leaned as far forward as he could, trying to reach him. His thick throat bobbed as he swallowed. Gage hated him. Hated the sweat that beaded on his forehead and upper lip. Hated his bulging eyes and all his tears. He didn’t deserve the pity.

Killer.

“Anything! I would do anything! They’ll kill me in there. I’m easy prey.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. He’d be easy pickings. No backbone to him. He stunk of desperation.

“Well, I can get you off the hook. It is simple court politics and miscalculations. A piece of missing evidence, a witness that doesn’t testify.” Gage shrugged one shoulder. “It won’t even cost you a penny.” Gage said. 

Placing his pen gently on top of the sheet he admired the cursive words. The large ‘Contract’ title stood out in deep red letters.

“What will it take?” Tomlinson was practically bouncing in his chair.

“A signature.” Gage said with a charming smile. He pushed the contract across the desk to the man in cuffs, the pen rolling a little with the force. “I want your soul. Upon your death, I would like your soul as payment.”

The man looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open.

“My soul? What kind of joke is this? My soul!” Tomlinson shoved the contract back towards him, but this time the pen stayed still in front of Tomlinson, the paper sliding out from under it.

Gage ignored the outburst and stood up. He gathered the sheet towards him and placed it back inside the folder, he flipped it shut.

“Well, it was nice meeting you Mr Tomlinson.” He said with that same charming smile, using what Ali called his “phone sex” voice. The one that got under your skin, bubbled through your blood, and made you ache. “I want to wish you luck at the trial.”

“Wait!” The man was holding the pen, his knuckles white with the pressure. Gage stopped his show of packing up and raised his eyebrows. Tomlinson’s mouth opened and shut. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I will sign it.”

Gage sat back down and instantly had the contract in his hand. He slid it back across the table.

“Are you a religious man, Mr Tomlinson?” Gage asked as the man’s pen hovered over the signature line. His eyes scanning the words on the page. A true business man. Tomlinson’s eyes flickered up to his, and back down. “No. It’s all rubbish. Something people tell themselves to make death seem less scary.”

Gage smiled with his lips pressed tightly together. “If you sign this contract, you will not be able to speak of what it entails. It is in the fine print.” Tomlinson waved the words away and promised his silence. Not yet did he realise that this wasn’t something he would have control over. Once the deal was signed, he would never be able to speak of it to anyone. At least, not without drowning in his own blood.

Gage sat in silence as Tomlinson took a shuddering breath, gathered himself, and scribbled his name on the bottom line. The ink was red as it came out the pen, gliding effortlessly across the page. Under his shirt, the cut on Gage’s forearm burnt and he resisted the urge to itch at it. As the pen came off the page, Tomlinson exhaled. He stared at the signature with something between fear and relief.

The deal was done. Destiny changed. The pieces clicked into place. Gage leaned over the table and plucked the pen and paper from the man’s fingers. When Tomlinson looked back up at Gage, he no longer saw his lawyer.