Unlawfully Wed

"We find the defendant, Paul Revere, guilty, your Honor."

"All right. Mr. Revere, I sentence you to ten years in the state penitentiary for slander and libel in the first degree. Court is dismissed."

Alex waited for the judge to take her stand before he did the same. He stacked his papers on the table in front of him, angling them lighting between his hands and dropping them repeatedly on the wood until all of the edges lined up. He smiled to himself while he tucked the papers securely into a Manila folder before putting them into his black leather briefcase, precariously placed next to the fountain pen, which had a tendency to leak, that he had had since college.

Once the papers were secure, Alex picked up the suitcase and began to head out of the courtroom with a spring in his step. There was just something about supporting the little guy in court and /winning/ that just made his day.

This case, Betsey Ross v. Paul Revere, it was made even better that Alex had been working in close proximity to Betsey Ross, a lovely woman who was suing Paul Revere, a blogger, over his leud and vulgar rendition of one of her songs, retitling it "The British are Cumming (Hard)" and making it all about sex and calling her a whore.

When Alex heard the song, he put together a case against Paul without a second to spare. Alex and Betsey had known each other since they were in college (they had known Paul for that long, as well, surprisingly), and Alex refused to let Betsey's name be associated wth that filth. He made sure to defend Betsey to the very best of his ability, and managed to win his ninty-seventh case since he opened his firm three years earlier with his best friend and ex-boyfriend, John Laurens. To some, it seemed unreal that he had managed to take on that many cases in that amount of time (*especially* with how challenging his cases were), but he worked non-stop around the clock. His work was his life. He didn't have a spouse, he didn't any children; there was nothing holding him back.

As he walked out of the courthouse and out to his car, his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of one of the deep, front pockets of his charcoal-gray suit pants and clicked on the screen, unsurprised to see that it was John calling him.

"Hello?"

"Alex. We have a situation."

Alex rolled his eyes. John viewed *everything* as a situation. "Did we run out of tea again? Is there sugar all over our breakroom floor? Did Eliza forget about Phillip's piano less--"

"You got a letter from George Washington."

Alex stopped short in his tracks. *That* was a name that he had not heard in a long, long time. "Did you open it?"

"No, man, you know it's unlawful for me to open someone else's mail. Why, do you want me to?"

Alex opened the passenger side door of his silver SUV and tossed his briefcase in before walking around to the other side and slouching against the driver's door. He crossed his free arm across his chest, balancing his elbow on his hand as he adjusted his hold on the phone. "No, not yet. If you had already opened it, I'd tell you to tell me what he wanted, but since you didn't . . . "

John made a noise from the back of his throat that Alex knew meant he was nodding. "Okay. Well, I'll leave it on your desk then. How'd Betsey's case go? Revere step off?"

John had known Betsey just as long as Alex had, so when Alex was forthcoming about working on her case, John was quick to help. He worked on getting information about Paul's past and his intentions while Alex worked on piecing everything together. "We won, just like we knew he would. He's got ten years in the state pen."

John sucked in. "Woah. That's surprisingly harsh for slander and libel. I was expecting a few, but . . . "

"Mr. Revere made some pretty crude suggestions on his blog about what he thought the judge should deem as his 'punishment'. She was not impressed." Alex pushed himself off his car and got in, stepping on the brake as he started the engine. It roared to a start, and within seconds he was making his way back to the office. "Listen, I'll be back in twenty. Put some tea on? Make it nice and hot?"

"That's the other half of our situation. We're out of tea."

Alex hung the phone up without another word.

***

Several hours later Alex pulled into the driveway of his modest two-story house, his heart thrumming nervously as he glanced for the thousandth time at the crisp white envelope that rested on the seat beside him. John had given it to him the moment that he got back, eagerly encouraging Alex to open it and see what the letter said, but Alex was less enthusiastic than John was. In fact, one could almost say that he was dreading it.

He contemplated leaving the envelope in the car but curiosity got the best of him, and he stuffed it into his briefcase before he had a chance to second guess himself.

Alex tucked the briefcase securely against his side and got out of the car, making sure to lock it from his key fob before making his way up to the house. He unlocked the door and went in, putting the briefcase on the entry table and toeing his shoes off beneath it. He loosened his tie and walked up to his room, steadily removing articles of clothing with each step until he was entering his room in nothing but a pair of money-patterned boxer shorts and his black calf-high socks. He threw his crumpled suit into a pile in the corner for his housekeeper to get in the morning, choosing instead to put on a faded Coca Cola tee shirt and a soft pair of black sweatpants.

Once Alex was fully dressed, he left his bedroom and went back down to the kitchen to make himself a bowl of instant noodles to have for supper. After the trial he had eaten a burger and some fries from a fast food joint across the street from his house, but it hadn't been enough to tide him over for more than an hour or two.

He put the noodles in the microwave for two minutes. He watched the numbers as they counted down, the monotonous routine slowing his mind down enough to let him think rationally about this whole George Washington thing.

The problem with thinking rationally, however, was that everything about George Washington was irrational. Just the mention of his name was enough to case a deep ache in Alex's chest (it started on the car ride back to office, and hadn't gone away since), and the four hours of time he had to remember the man was quickly making him feel worried and anxious about what the letter could possibly say. It had been five years since they had talked; it couldn't be anything good. If they had ended their relationship on good terms, maybe, but as it was . . .

No. Alex wasn't going to open up that can of worms again. It had taken well over a year for Alex to stop constantly praying for a text or a phone call, and another year for the feelings to fade away.

With that thought in mind, Alex took his noodles out of the microwave and went into his living room. He sat down on his couch and pulled his legs up under himself, grabbing his phone and pulling up the application for his Roku. He scrolled through until he landed on Netflix. He searched through the movies and television shows, trying to find *anything* that would distract him from his wandering thoughts, but it was a challenge to focus now that his carefully constructed levy had begun to crack.

After ten or so minutes of unsuccessful searching (and his noodles going cold), he decided that trying to keep out of his head wasn't going to work. He placed the bowl on his coffee table, his appetite gone, before getting up and making his way towards his office, where his laptop was sitting on the charger in sleep mode.

Alex booted his computer back up and typed in his password, butterflies beginning to dance around his stomach and his heart rate increasing as he was granted access. He went into his picture folder and hit the one labeled "2009-2011" before slamming his laptop closed in a panic.

What was he doing? He had worked so hard to put all thoughts of George behind him. He wasn't going to go back to being that heartbroken kid that he was five years ago. It had cost him everything then; he couldn't let it cost him anything now.

Alex ground his teeth and let out a breath through his nose, picking his phone back up from where he had dropped it next to the computer. He went through his contacts until he found the number for Eliza Schuyler, his ex-wife and the mother of his twins, Phillip and Angelica.

Alex knew he was gay from a young age, but when he was a youth growing up in the New York foster system, he learned quickly that life went far smoother for him when he acted like it was women that his heart his desired. When he was seventeen, Eliza and he met at a school dance, which they then went home together from.

Phillip and Angelica were the result of that night.

When Eliza found out she was pregnant, she was terrified about how she was going to be able to take care of one child, let alone two, so Alex came up with a solution: a quick wedding the day that they we'd both eighteen (a month before the twins were born) and moving off to a military base the moment that Alex got out of boot camp for the Army, a job that he only took in order to financially support his wife and his children.

After Alex did his mandatory four years, he went back to college on his GI money before continuing on to law school, at which point Eliza and he had decided to end their marriage and part ways amicably.

Law school was where things began to get dizzy for Alex in addition to starting the beginning of the end of his marriage. He learned that he loved talking about the law, and he loved to state his opinions, but he *hated* defending people whom he knew did not deserve it. It was something that disturbed him greatly, especially when he began to work for a firm that supported the Big Business Corporations and walked all over the little guy, something Alex had always been. It was, however, where he and George met, and how . . .

Alex clenched his teeth harder and shook his head. Thinking about how George and he met was the opposite of keeping it out of his head. He needed a distraction.

Alex clicked the call button for Eliza's cell and held his phone up to his ear, waiting impatiently for her to pick up. When she did, Alex could hear Phillip and Angelica arguing in the background.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Eliza. It's me."

"I know that, Alex. Caller ID, remember?" There was a playful waiver to her voice. "What's going on, sweetheart?"

"Can I come over for a little bit? I just need some time to get . . . things out of my head." Alex didn't elaborate, but he knew that Eliza would most likely be able to guess what was upsetting him.

Sure enough, Eliza made a soft cooing sound before clicking her tongue. "Of course you can, honey, but just try to think about something else until you're over, all right?"

"Like what?"

Eliza didn't answer at first. Alex started to get worried when he heard Eliza let out a small giggle before making another noise at the back of her throat. Alex's eyes widened when he realized what was happening. "Eliza! Did you really pick up the phone while being intimate with Maria?"

"You're on speaker," Eliza answered, her voice smug.

"Hi, Alexander!" Maria joined in before making a noise that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

Alex coughed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat, trying to ignore how the sounds were affecting him (he may be gay, but Eliza's noises were enough to drive *anyone* crazy). "With Phillip and Angelica in the next room?"

"We're discreet."

Alex could hear Maria scoff. "I am, she's not."

"*Okay*, I am going to let you go then. Give the kids a kiss for me, would you?"

"Of course. Bye, Alex."

"Bye, Alexander!"

"Bye, ladies." Alex pulled his phone away from his head and ended the conversation before dropping his head down onto the top of his laptop.

He needed a better distraction.

Alex slowly lifted his head back up and slouched back into the chair, turning his phone back on and going through his messages until he found the conversation with John. Once again, he clicked the "call" button and impatiently waited for his friend to pick up the call.

Fortunately, it seemed that John must have already been on his phone, as he answered halfway through the second ring. "Hey, man, what's up? Did you open Washington's letter yet?"

"No, actually. I decided I'm not going to." Maybe. Possibly. Unless he gave in to the desperate pangs of nostalgia in his chest. "I got rid of it." Another lie.

John seemed to be able to detect Alex's dishonesty. "You left it in the car, didn't you. God, will you ever change?"

"Quiet, you. I was *going* to see if you wanted to get the boys together and have some fun over here tonight, but if you're going to just be a dick the whole time . . . "

Alex could almost *feel* the look that John had to be wearing. He likely had one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes mere slits behind his eyelids and his lips drawn tightly in disapproval. It was the same look he had every time that Alex said something he did not agree with.

After nearly a full minute of silence, John let out a loud sigh. "*Fine, I'll play nice. But you better make a real decision regarding that letter." He hung up before Alex had a chance to say anything else.

Alex put his phone back down on the desk and shook his head.

He hoped this distraction was worth it.