Story Written Only For FanFiction

By: Siretha Elaine

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Chapter 1 – Blue

Spencer Hastings's head rested against the large window as she stared at the assortment of automobiles, zipping and wheezing through traffic in an attempt to get back to their jobs before their lunch hour expired. With the grey clouds casting its dark shadow upon the town of Rosewood, foreshowing an approaching storm, Spencer felt like Mother Nature was reciprocating the way she was feeling—gloomy, depressed, saddened… she felt so blue.

She diverted her attention from the outside world when her office door flew open.

With a large smile entrenched on her face, Veronica Hastings speedily walked over to encase her daughter in her embrace. Usually when a mother and daughter share moments like this, the encounter is warm and comforting—giving the youth hope that whatever is bothering her is no match for mama dearest. But with the Hastings, that was not the case. Veronica hadn't even acknowledged her daughter's sullen state.

Pulling back a second later, Veronica squealed in delight. "Spencer, you were marvelous! That jury drank in your statements like it was free alcohol. They had a verdict in less than two minutes. Great job, darling, great job!"

Veronica clapped exaggeratedly; Spencer smiled falsely.

She continued to boast, "Spencer, you have no idea how much that case meant to this firm. That case marks our 500th case won. Woohoo! Your father and I are so proud of you. So proud. In honor of this history-making day, we are closing early today. We rented The Grille out to celebrate your big win. Grab your coat and let's go. The limousine is waiting downstairs."

"Uh, I'll just meet you all there in a few, mom," Spencer fibbed. "Got some last minute paperwork to look over."

"Do you want me to send another limo for you?" her mother asked.

"That won't be necessary; I'll just drive over."

"Ok. See you soon, sweetie," Mrs. Hastings smiled before leaving Spencer alone with her thoughts.

The Grille was only a few miles away from the firm. A limo? Really? Just the flashy, rich Hastings being Hastings.

As much as Spencer appreciated her fortunate lifestyle, she often despised it. Yes, she was Pennsylvania's most popular and highest paid attorney at the young age of 25. Yes, she was featured in a magazine after winning a high-profile biased case. Yes, she occupied a large, lavish office and had superiority over people older than her. Yes, after she graduated with honors at the top of her class from an Ivy League university, her parents purchased her a luxury penthouse that overlooked the town who praised her because of her last name. Yes, her bank account was so close to containing double commas. And yes, every male wanted her left hand to house his ring while every female wanted to be her.

In everyone's eyes, Spencer Jill Hastings had it all. In Spencer's eyes, she wished she didn't have any of it. Because she knew that this power and title came courtesy of a high price tag that meant doing things she wasn't always proud of.

Spencer just won another case, dominated another courtroom, and wowed another jury. So why was she so sad right now?

Spencer returned her attention to the activity outside. She watched as all the firm's employees happily ran to their cars, elated to exchange their scenery from mountains of documents and ringing phones to glasses filled with bubbly and confetti. She wasn't leaving the office until everyone else were gone, because she didn't want them to see her driving off in the opposite direction, revealing that she would not be joining them. She was going to go home and intoxicate herself until her thoughts about her recent case vanished from her memory.

Her office lights went out as the rest of the massive building went dark as well. This didn't alarm her, because she knew it was the janitors shutting the place down for the weekend as instructed by her parents. She had a master key to the building, so she would let herself out once the parking lot was empty.

Using the limited sun shyly peeking through the cloudy sky, Spencer tidied up her desk. When her eyes ran across the manila folder labeled Case 1105214 City of Rosewood vs Reynolds, she sighed deeply. She tossed the file into her shredder; she didn't want to be reminded of that case, although everyone was at The Grille ready to congratulate her on that case, thus reminding her of it.

Spencer quickly wiped away the single tear that eluded her eye, broadcasting her guilty conscience. Her most recent case involved her defending an ex-cop who was convicted of setting his garage on fire with explosives. The prosecution claimed that Spencer's client was enraged that his girlfriend broke up with him and set the detached structure on fire while she was packing up her stuff to leave him. As a result of his claimed actions, the unlucky girl lost her eyesight due to the explosion.

Like the tiger she was, Spencer ripped the accusations to pieces. The jury deliberated for less than two minutes before announcing "We find the defendant Garrett Ray Reynolds not guilty." Those words were like sweet music to both Spencer and Garrett's ears. But the next thing she heard was equivalent to a nail cascading down a chalkboard.

Shaking his attorney's hand in appreciation for her dedicated services, Garrett revealed that she was worth every penny he spent to employ her. "Thank you, Ms. Hastings, thank you. I don't regret what I did. That bitch got what she deserved. She wanted to see other people," he smirked. "Now she can't see at all."

Paralyzed by his confession, Spencer couldn't believe that she just helped a guilty man. She wasn't aware that he actually did it until it was too late. There is an Amendment in the U. S. Constitution called Double Jeopardy whereas it prohibits an individual from being subjected to prosecution more than once for the same offense. Garrett was in law enforcement, so he was well aware of the clause. That is why he waited until after the verdict to reveal the truth to Spencer. He knew she couldn't say or do anything, because he couldn't be tried again.

And that was the downfall to this field of work—sometimes you helped the bad guys.

All the plaques and awards decorating the walls of her office were starting to taunt her, mocking her of her latest case. She knew everyone was gone now, so she grabbed her mint coat and rapidly exited her office into the dark hallway.

Using the light from her iPhone to guide her way, Spencer slowly walked down the lengthy hallway. She stopped when she thought she heard a noise behind her. She turned around and squinted to focus her vision in the dark. After several silent seconds, she swiveled back around to continue her journey.

She heard another sound behind her. Maybe it was a janitor or secretary struggling to find their way out of the dark building, too. "Hello?" she called.

"Hey," a male voice pierced through the dark.

She didn't recognize the voice. She brightened the light on her screen and flashed it around the hall until she found the culprit. She didn't recognize him; he wasn't an employee of the firm. Maybe he was a deranged client seeking revenge on the firm over another lawyer losing his case. Spencer took off down the dark hallway, dropping her cell in the process.

The man yelled after her.

Spencer didn't stop. She ran as fast as she could in her high heel boots. Trying to access her brain into helping her remember her way around, Spencer took a left around the corner, heading towards the elevators. She heard his heavy footsteps thumping against the tiled floor; he was gaining on her.

Spencer was so distracted with fear that she misjudged her distance to the elevators and collided with the steel doors. A throbbing migraine soon greeted her overworked mind. While one hand cupped her pained forehead, her other slapped the wall frantically for the button to open the door. Finally, she located the button. The red digits above the door informed her that the elevator was currently on the first floor. She was on the top floor, five stories up.

"Hey!" the man yelled again.

Spencer realized how close he was and she couldn't wait on the elevator. She took off and entered the stairwell. Descending the flight of stairs way too quickly in those Tory Burch stilettoes boots, Spencer missed a step and went tumbling down. Before her visage kissed the marble ground, a set of large hands encased her frame.

"Don't hurt me! Please! I'll give you whatever you want! Just don't hurt me!" she cried.

Breaking free of the stranger's envelopment, Spencer attempted to stand, but failed when she realized her heel had broken off. She fell right back into his arms.

"I'm not going to hurt. I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to scare you," he said as he released her to sit on the step.

Spencer blinked excessively when a bright light was directed over her face. A finger grazed her forehead, accessing the knot forming from her collision with the elevator.

"Are you ok?" a voice inquired. His minty breath and aftershave intoxicated her senses.

Pushing his hand away to minimize the light exposure to her retinas, she realized the source of the light was her phone. She snatched it and put the light on him. The glow allowed her to see a set of sparkling azure orbs staring back at her.

"Who in the hell are you?! What do you want?! What are you doing in here?!" she was attacking him with so many inquiries that he didn't know where to begin to respond.

"I'm in need of a lawyer," he admitted.

"Well can't you see we're closed for the day?!" she shrieked breathlessly.

"Your office hours listed on the front door stated you're opened until five; it's only a quarter after two."

"We closed early today. Duh!"

"Well, I figured that much out when the lights went out during my detour to the men's room. When I emerged, everyone was gone, so I was about to leave and come back Monday morning. But when I got to the doors, they were locked. I searched every exit on the first floor and they were all locked. I noticed there was one car still in the parking lot and figured someone was still here. So I came looking for you to let you know I got locked in. But you took off running from me."

"Can you blame me? Abandoned building. Dark hallways. Creepy guy. I wasn't trying to star in a horror film," Spencer snapped.

The blue-eyed mystery guy chuckled, "I get it. I'm really sorry about that. Be advised, I'm not the type to hurt anyone…" The remainder of his statement came out in a whisper, "at least, I think."

She heard him and gulped. He noticed her nervousness and quickly responded, "Uh, so I'll return during normal business hours Monday. Will you let me out?"

Spencer led him to the exit, keeping a great distance between them as a precaution. He seemed quite harmless, but so did many of Spencer's clients and some of them were rapists and murderers.

As she fought to locate the correct key, the guy decided to kill the awkward silence with light conversation.

"It must really suck being a secretary. You're forced to work late while everyone gets a jumpstart on their weekend shenanigans," he said.

Spencer averted her eyes to meet his. For a second, she forgot her responding statement as she became entrapped in his alluring blue swirls. "I'm not a secretary. If you must know, I'm an attorney."

The astonished expression that surfaced on his face made Spencer smile.

"You're a lawyer?" he asked for assurance.

Spencer nodded. If her parents were around, they would add a laundry list of adjectives to the title, reciting the magazine article she was featured in. She handed him her glossy business card with her name embossed in gold manuscript in the center hovering over an enchanting photo of her. Verifying she was who she said she was, he nodded in approval.

"Wow," he proclaimed. "You look kind of young though."

Spencer got that a lot, so she said this a lot, "I was pre-law in preschool."

The male's stomach contracted ferociously as he laughed like a hyena at her clever comeback. "Well that's just great, because I need a really, really great lawyer."

"Call and schedule an appointment with my secretary Monday," she informed him as she opened the door for him.

"Will do, Mrs. Hastings," he said, recalling her name from her business card.

"Miss," she corrected him. "It's just Miss Hastings."

Spencer didn't know why she felt the need to correct him—to inform him she wasn't married. She shook off the thought and locked the door behind her. Her hero had gotten a few feet away when he turned around and noticed her limping. That's when he remembered her broken heel. And he knew her vehicle was parked at the rear of the building, so she had a long way to walk. The November weather was too chilly for her to take her other boot off to even the leverage.

"Hey… I can, uh, carry you to your car, if you want," he apprehensively suggested when he caught up to the brunette.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," she politely replied, but really wanted to take him up on his offer.

He watched as she struggled to keep her balance on her one high heel. The scene was comical to him. But his grin quickly dispersed when she almost fell. Before she could protest, he had her in his arms bridal style.

"Excuse me, sir, this is not proper-"

"Toby," he interrupted her. "My name is Toby Cavanaugh."

"Well, Mr. Cavanaugh," she snapped, "this isn't appropriate for-"

"We're here," he announced as he returned her to the cement. "You're welcome," he sneered.

Spencer sucked her teeth as she thanked him for all of his protective services. Granting her one last view of his gorgeous sapphire colored eyes, Toby had walked away with promises to schedule an appointment next week. She entered her black Mercedes Benz and waited for the car to warm up.

Toby, she thought. He was quite feisty and bold, but in a calm manner. He reminded her of herself somewhat. Little did Spencer know, but would soon find out, they were complete opposites of one another.