Wildest Dreams

“Listen, Matthew. The time to place the blame on a scapegoat has come and gone.” My lawyer, Carmen Estrada, tells me as she shuffles through a file on the desk. I pace the room lined with mirrors and let out a huff.

“We both know the trial was bullshit.” My voice comes out louder than I'd intended. “There was no physical evidence that I shot the gun that killed Chris.”

“The jury had enough circumstantial evidence to convict you. They had motive, a witness-“

“Travis didn't witness shit. He ran out the back door like a little bitch. There's no proof that says he didn't fire the weapon himself. Maybe he was aiming for me and missed.” Carmen takes a moment to stare at me. My face is hot and I ball my hands into fists as she inspects me.

I had hired Carmen because she is the best in her line of work. She had taken on my case determined to get me off and swearing she could do so, but she had failed and I'm not going to accept it.

“If an appeal is what you want, I can get you that. It's going to take some time.” She scribbles a few things down on her notepad before looking back up at me.

“How long?”

“Six months, maybe longer.”

“Six months is too long. I need an appeal now.”

“Matthew, I have other cases. I can't take on an appeal and even if I could we need time to plan our rebuttal. We need evidence.”

“What are they paying you? I'll match it. You want five thousand an hour? I'll give you that. How much is it going to cost.” I take a seat in the chair across from her with my hands clasped in front of me on the tabletop. “You want evidence? I'll get it.”

“You're being unreasonable.” Her shoulder length brown hair falls into her face and she brushes it behind her ear to reveal an expensive pair of diamond studs. If there's one thing in this world i have learned, it's that people can be bought. The may put on a tough face, but there's always an amount that will make them cave.

“How much?” She lets out an exasperated sigh and closes the file.

“You need concrete proof that Travis pulled the trigger. I'm talking finger prints on the murder weapon. The judge isn't going to accept anything less.”

“Six weeks. I need this in motion in six weeks. I have to be out of here in less than three months.” I do the math in my head. Mariah will be a little over halfway though her pregnancy. I can live with that.

Carmen gives me one last hard stare before pushing her chair back and standing. She brushes her perfectly manicured hands down the front of her black pencil skirt and straightens her suit jacket before picking up all of her paperwork and turning for the door.

“You understand that there's no guarantees this is going to work, right?”

“Are you saying you can't handle my case?”

“I can handle it. Better yet, I think we can win an appeal if we get our ducks in a row. But I need you to do your part. If we work together we can win this thing.”

“I'll get it done. I need more phone privileges. Can you make that happen?”

“I'll see what I can do.” She shakes my hand before exiting the room and I stare down at the metal and pray to whatever god is out there that this works. First thing on my to do list is get word out to Brian Sr. that I need that gun. Somehow, Jimmy and Johnny have to get Travis’s fingerprints on it and then it should be game over.



Morning sickness. What a silly name. Those two words sound like it comes in the morning and passes without much notice. Maybe a little nausea, but after the morning you're fine. Right?

Wrong.

For the fifth morning in a row, I wake with an out of control migraine. I rub my palm over my face and press the heel of my hand against my forehead. Today is Cash’s birthday, and I know there's no time to feel unwell.

5:17am

The clock beside the bed reads and I let out an audible groan as I lay back against the feather down pillows. The sun isn't up yet, but a soft glow illuminates the room as I look out the window. I run my hands over my lower abdomen, the swollen bump has grown only a little in the past few weeks, but can be seen easily since keeping food down has been impossible.

I make my way out of bed and into the bathroom. When I flick on the light I'm face to face with my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are a little hollow and the circles under my eyes make me look like I haven't slept in weeks. I squint my eyes against the light and reach into the top drawer to find the bottle of Tylenol I keep for emergencies.

Medication has never been my thing, but the pain in my temples screams to be soothed. I take a few pills and begin my routine to get ready for the day.

By the time I'm out of the shower with a bra and panties on and a towel on my head, my son is wide awake. I can hear him in the bedroom calling for me to hurry up. I rub some moisturizer on my face before placing a few drops of under eye illuminator over the dark circles, hoping that will make a difference. The heat from the shower combined with he Tylenol has eased some of the tension in my head and I'm grateful. I just have to remember not to skip a dose today.

“What are you doing up?” I ask my son as I open the bathroom door to see him bouncing on the bed.

“It's my birthday, mama!” His voice is full of excitement as I come over to give him birthday kisses. He stands on the bed so he's almost at eye level with me and I scoop him into my arms.

“Happy birthday, sugar.” I attack his neck with kisses and the giggles that erupt from his chest are contagious even though I don't feel well. “Do you know how much I love you, birthday boy?”

“How much?” He squeals as I tickle his sides and place him back down on his feet on the mattress.

“As big as the sun, the moon, and all the stars.” I spread my arms wide. “I love you so big you can't even see all of my love.” The little boy beams up at me as his hands reach out to press against my stomach.

“Your tummy is big, mama.” He inspects my skin before looking up at my face.

“There's a baby in there, remember? A little brother or sister just for you.” He's quiet for a moment before hopping down from the bed, his eyebrows scrunched.

“I don't think I want one.” His tone is so nonchalant as if the life inside me can just choose another family to go to and I can't help but laugh. Cash heads for the door but turns back to look at me. “Can we go see daddy now?”

“Of course. Let me get dressed and then we’ll get you dressed.” I give myself a pat on the back for making sure to give him a bath last night because the thought of giving him one this morning is too exhausting to consider.

I slip on a pair of white denim jeans and a grey shirt with a cross cross neckline. I leave my hair down to dry as I make my way into my son's room to get him dressed.



“Your son decided this morning that he doesn't want a sibling.” I tease Matt as I set Cash down on his own two feet in the visitation room. There's a small table built for children that has a few toys on it.

I have to say, there are perks to having a rich and famous husband in prison. Matt’s fame keeps us from having to use the public entrance as well as the public visitation area that's full of murderers and rapists out in the open. My willingness to bring my son to see his father would be nonexistent if those were the conditions.

Instead we get a room to ourselves that's monitored through the one way mirror as well as by the speakers, but I I don't mind.

“Oh yeah?” Matt’s dimples show as he chuckles at his son.

“We can't just return the baby, kid. Even if it is your birthday.” Matt tells Cash who crosses his arms over his chest.

“Why not?”

“What if we would have returned you? You'd have to be with a different family and we don't want that, right?” I explain to my son and he just stares at me as my words sink in.

“A different mama, and a different daddy?” I nod my head as he lets out a little sigh.

“I guess it can stay.” I turn my attention back to Matt and slip my fingers through his.

“Any word on the appeal?” His shoulders stiffen and I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it.

“Carmen thinks we have a pretty good chance.” The words seem forced, as if he's not telling me the entire truth.

“What aren't you telling me?” I pry. Matt sits up in his chair to lean over and steal a kiss from me. He definitely knows how to distract me. As he leans back I lean forward to keep from losing contact. I slip my tongue past his lips to deepen the kiss and drag his hands over to my side of the table. I'd do anything to feel his hands on me again but when I give a soft nip to his bottom lip he groans before pulling himself away.

“You can't do shit like that.” He scolds, his voice low and eyes dark.

“Why not?” I tease with mischief in my own green orbs.

“Because I'm stuck in here and I can't have you.” His eyes trail from me face down my body.

“You could.” Matt shakes his head.

“Not going to happen.” The subject of conjugal visits has been brought up a few times in the last few weeks, but Matt refuses to consider it. He's like a stubborn child every time I mention the possibility.

“But I'm horny all the time.” I keep my voice low so Cash won't hear me and raise an eyebrow at the man across from me. “One of the many side effects of pregnancy. Among other things.” I think back to the migraine I had had this morning and remind myself to take a dose when I get to the car to keep the pain at bay.

“Stop.”

“But why?”

“Because it's demeaning and I won't do it.” I place my elbows on the table and rest my chin on the heel of my hand.

“Please?”

“No.”

“You're no fun.” I let out a huff and sit back on my chair as he stares at me.

“Are you going to see Brian after this?” Matt changes the subject to my brother and I look up at the clock on the wall. As much as I'd love to spend the rest of the time with Matt, visiting hours end in forty-five minutes and I'd promised Brian he would see Cash on his birthday over the phone a few days ago.

“Speaking of which, we should probably do that now.” I go to stand from the seat but Matt raises his hand to stop me.

“I'll tell the guard. They can bring him to you. There's trash crawling this place during visiting hours. Rather not have you two out there in the middle of it.”

“Not making friends?” I tease, trying to keep the mood light since we don't have much choice in our current situation.

“My only focus is getting home to you.” He stands and comes around to my side of the table to envelope me in the second of our allowed points of contact. Two hugs, one at the beginning and one at the end of our visit lasting no longer than six seconds. I close my eyes and relish the feel of him against me.

Matt presses a quick kiss to my cheek before releasing me, mumbling ‘I love you’ in my ear before kneeling down and calling Cash over.

“Are you coming to my party?” Cash asks as he snuggles into his father's chest.

“I wish I could, baby boy but I have to stay here, okay? I promise you I'll be home soon.” Cash sniffles, his mood turning sour as he realizes his father is still not coming home. The tears well in his eyes and the soft cries shatter my heart into a million pieces as Cash refuses to let go of Matt’s shirt.

The door swings open to reveal two of the guards and they wait for Matt to release the toddler but Cash refuses to let go.

“Ma'am, please take ahold of your son.” One of them speaks to me as Cash throws a fit, is fingers gripping Matt’s shirt as he cries.

“Cash, come on. Come over here to me.” The toddler ignores me and tries climbing up Matt’s body. Matt stands with Cash in his arms and brings him over to me. The two of us do our best to unclamp our son’s fingers as he screams and cries. The sound penetrates deep into my skull and reawakens the pounding migraine. Cash tries to escape my arms as Matt’s handcuffs are placed on his wrists and led to the door.

“I'm sorry.” I hear Matt mumble as he's pulled from the room and I'm left holding a screaming toddler who only wants his father.