This story is purely fictional and is based solely on the author's imagination. Any connection between real people, or situations is purely coincidental. It depicts a love relationship between two men, both being of legal age.
The author reserves all copyright privileges. This work may not be reproduced, except for personal use, without permission of the author, and may not be linked to any pay sites.
Chapter 7
Kenny rose. "The prosecution calls Mr. Brian Stills."
"Brian Stills, take the stand," The Judge commanded.
Brian seemed nervous, all Kenny had to do was subtly put his hand on Brian's shoulder and smile.
Brian sat in the witness chair.
"Raise your right hand, please. Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" The Bailiff uttered the all too common words.
"I do." Brian lowered his hand.
Kenny rose and walked in front of Brian. "Is it true that you worked for Blue Ribbon Packaging?"
Brian nodded his head.
"Out loud, please," the Judge admonished.
"Yes, Sir."
"And, did you apply for a job there, or did the company contact you?" Kenny continued.
"I filled out an application, like the rest of us."
"Who is 'the rest of us?'"
"Well, a group of us from the shelter were told that they were hiring, so we went down together. There was me, Willie, Jo-Jo..."
"That's fine, thank you. Now, did you fill out this application by yourself?"
"Yes, of course," Brian answered, annoyed at such a silly question.
"You read and write English fluently, Mr. Stills?" Kenny asked.
"Yes."
"Objection, Your Honor. We're not here to determine if Mr. Stills can read and write," Mr. Smith complained.
"Overruled. The question remains. But, Counselor Schilte, I think everyone would agree that Mr. Stills can read and write."
"Yes Your Honor, thank you." Kenny cleared his throat. "Now, Mr. Stills, as you were completing this application, were there any places in the application that asked about your race." Kenny paused, waiting for an objection.
"No, Sir."
"Was there any place on that application that asked if you were white, or black?"
"No, Sir."
"Was there any place on that application that asked if your parents were white or black?"
"No, Sir."
"Did they take your picture when you completed the application?"
"No, Sir."
"Did they photocopy your driver's license when you completed the application?"
"No, Sir."
Kenny paused again, letting the information sink in. It was clear that anyone looking at Mr. Stills employment application would have no clue what race he was.
"Mr. Stills. Who did you have your first interview with at Blue Ribbon?"
Brian thought for a moment. It wasn't one of the questions that Thomas had rehearsed, so it threw him off a bit. "I...I really don't remember," he answered honestly.
"Well, can you remember having an interview there?"
"Oh yes. I was so excited. It was a chance, Mr. Schilte." Brian's eyes lit up. It was a sparkle that wouldn't last long.
"And during this interview, were you asked any questions about your ethnicity?"
Brian thought for a moment. "Noooo, no I don't believe so."
"How long did you work for Blue Ribbon Packaging before they fired you, Mr. Stills?"
"Objection, Your Honor!" Mr. Smith stood up. "The prosecution is implying that Mr. Stills was in fact, terminated, rather than laid off, as part of a large employee reduction."
"Sustained. Careful, Counselor."
Kenny nodded softly. "I'll rephrase the question, Your Honor. Mr. Stills, how long did you work for Blue Ribbon Packaging?"
"Three years." Brian lit up again.
"Did you like your job?"
"Oh yes. As I said, it was a chance."
"What do you mean 'a chance'?"
"You know, a chance to get out of the shelter. Get my own place. Take care of myself. A chance..." Brian hesitated a moment.
"Go on," The Judge commanded.
"It was a chance to be a real man again."
"During your employment, did you receive performance evaluations?"
"Oh yes. I always looked forward to those."
"Why is that, Mr. Stills?"
"Because it meant a pay raise!" Brian smiled widely.
Even the Judge snickered a little.
"And during these evaluations, were you told what you were doing right and wrong?"
"Well, mostly right. I only got one bad review...just before the end."
"Did you ever get promoted, Mr. Stills?"
"Yes, once."
"You were hired as a Receiving Clerk, is that correct?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And when you were promoted, did you supervise people?"
"Yes, Sir."
"How many people did you supervise, Mr. Stills?"
"Well, let's see. There was Billy Olsen, Sammy Hempsted, and Wally...ummm, Wally...oh shoot. I can't remember his last name."
"That's all right. Now, these men that you supervised, were they black men, just like you?"
Brian paused for a moment.
"It's okay, Mr. Stills, I already know the answer."
"Yes, they were black."
It seemed to me that Kenny's investigation was reaping some interesting details.
"How long were you a supervisor before the 'layoff,' Mr. Stills?" Kenny looked right at Mr. Smith and did the quotation marks movement with his fingers.
"Well, let's see. About two months, I guess."
"Any problems with the men you supervised?"
"Problems, Sir?"
"Yeah, you know...were they on time? Did they do a good job? Did they listen to you?"
"Oh, yeah, they were great guys. Me and Sammy stayed at the shelter together."
Kenny paused for a moment, sifting through his notes, as though looking for an important detail. "Was Sammy hired the same time as you?"
"I guess so. A couple days later, maybe. I don't remember."
"Sammy seem angry that you got promoted and he didn't?"
"Heck no. Sammy's a good guy. He even bought me a beer after work...you know, to congratulate me and stuff."
"What about the other guys? They seem upset at you?"
"Nah. We got along great."
"And who was your boss, Mr. Stills?"
"Mr. Blakley."
"And was Mr. Blakley black?"
Brian laughed for a moment to himself. "Heck no."
"What's so funny, Mr. Stills?"
"Gosh, Mr. Schilte. There wasn't anybody in management that was black!"
Kenny already knew that answer too, but let it hang in the air for a moment.
"As Receiving Supervisor, you were responsible for incoming shipments, is that correct?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Ever lose a shipment, Mr. Stills?"
"No, Sir. There was paperwork for everything. And every time something came in, we checked it off, item for item."
"Ever have any extra product?"
"Sometimes. Not very often. I remember, one time, we got a bunch of packing tape in, and there was a whole box extra."
"What did you do? Did you take it home?"
"Gosh no! Mr. Blakley made sure we reported any shortages or overages directly to him."
"Were you ever late to work, Mr. Stills?"
"No. Well, yes, actually. Once, kinda."
"When was that?"
"Well, gosh, I don't remember the exact day."
"Okay...how about the month?"
"Hmmm, I guess it was in September."
"And why were you late, Mr. Stills?"
"It wasn't my fault. Mr. Blakley asked me to drop off some papers to one of our customers on the way into work. I don't drive, so I had to ride the bus all the way downtown, and then come back."
"So, you were performing company business?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Mr. Stills, what time do you normally start work?"
"Six Thirty, 'SHARP' Mr. Blakley tells us."
"And you leave at two-thirty in the afternoon?"
"Most times. But if we take an hour for lunch, then we can't leave until three."
"What time do you leave for work in the morning, Mr. Stills?"
"Six o'clock. The bus from the shelter to the factory is really good."
"Very good. So, on this September day you were late, what time did you board the bus for downtown?"
"Well, the three-fifty-three leaves for downtown every half hour or so, I guess. I got the one that left at five. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss it."
"Five in the morning, you say?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And what time did you finally arrive at the factory, Mr. Stills?"
"About seven-thirty. I tried to explain to Mr. Blakley, but he didn't care. He said I was late, and that's all there was to it."
Kenny had made his point, and it was time to move on. There were a barrage of simple, fact-establishing questions, and each one was answered simply with a yes or no.
Brian was holding up great, and Kenny moved him through the process.
Then, it was time for Mr. Smith to cross-examine.
As Smith rose from his table, an evil-looking smile crossed his face. "Mr. Stills, Mr. Schilte has painted a pretty nice picture of your employment with Blue Ribbon."
"It was nice," Brian responded, very confident.
"But isn't it true that you were turned down for several promotions during your employment?" Mr. Smith asked, letting the question hang in the air like a fowl stench.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand your question."
The Judge looked at Mr. Smith. "Rephrase your question, Counselor."
"Yes, Your Honor. Mr. Stills, were you ever turned down for a promotion?"
"Well, let's see. I..." Brian thought for a moment. "No, I can't remember any."
Mr. Smith went to a stack of papers and produced a document from the stack. Presenting it to Brian, he said, "Is this your handwriting?"
Kenny stood immediately. "Objection, Your Honor. The Prosecution has not been made aware of any documents that would be presented into evidence, other than Mr. Stills employment application, and termination paperwork."
"Mr. Smith?" The Judge frowned at the attorney.
Without missing a step, Mr. Smith smiled and said, "Of course, Your Honor. This is simply an employment promotion request. It was part of the employment record, and therefore, the Prosecution should have a copy of it already."
"Objection over-ruled. Continue, Counselor."
Kenny sat down, frustrated and annoyed at Smith's ploy.
"Well, Mr. Stills? Is this your hand writing?"
"Yes, it is." Brian said.
"This is a request for promotion consideration from Receiving Clerk to Receiving Lead, is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Did you get the promotion?"
"Yes."
"Eventually, isn't that correct?" "I don't understand your question." Brian had been well prepared for today, following Kenny's instruction not to answer any question he didn't fully understand.
"Isn't it true that you were only promoted after requesting the promotion four times?"
"I'm not sure. I don't remember." Brian stated, shifting in his seat.
"Fine, Mr. Stills. Let's move on. Can you tell the court of any medical condition you have, that would cause an employer to be concerned about hiring you?"
"I'm not sick," Brian answered.
"Mr. Stills. Are you an alcoholic?"
The courtroom fell silent. You could hear a pin drop.
"I...That was in the past!" Brian stated.
"Than you ARE an alcoholic, Mr. Stills?"
Kenny was quickly shuffling through his documents, stopping at Brian's employment application. "Objection, Your Honor. Clearly, Mr. Smith's intention is to taint my client's credibility with information that is not relevant to this case. Further, Your Honor, IF Mr. Stills had any such medical condition, it was not required to reveal such information during the application process, hiring process, or employment condition. Now, if Mr. Smith can prove that Mr. Stills was terminated because he reported to work drunk, I'll be happy to sit down and let Mr. Smith continue to beat up my client. However, if he can't prove it, then I request this line of questioning be stricken, and that Counselor Smith be reprimanded accordingly."
"Counsel, please approach the bench." The Judge looked angry and frustrated.
As Kenny and Mr. Smith approached the bench, and courtroom grew still.
Isn't it funny when people try to listen in, even when they know they couldn't possibly hear anything?
"Than discontinue this line of questioning, Counselor! This will be the last time I allow your loose mistreatment of my courtroom. Do I make myself clear?" The Judge's booming voice echoed against the walls.
"Yes Your Honor." Mr. Smith quietly walked back to his table.
"Any further questions for the witness, Counselor?" The Judge asked.
Mr. Smith's evil smile had long since passed, and as he scanned his notes, he debated continuing. Finally, he spoke. "Just one Your Honor. Mr. Stills? What was the reason you were told for being fired?"
"Mr. Blakley said I was no longer welcome, handed me my check, and told me to clear out my locker. So, I did."
"No further questions, Your Honor."
Kenny hesitated for a moment, gauging the Judge for encouragement.
"Counselor Schilte?"
Kenny rose. "Your Honor, the Prosecution has no further questions for Mr. Stills."
"Very well then." Judge Wilkins turned and looked at the clock behind him. "Let's call it a day, Gentlemen. This court will stand in recess until Monday." The Judge banged his gavel on the wooden block and rose from his seat.
"All rise!" The Bailiff commanded.
I made my way to Kenny. "Now what?"
"Now, we catch some dinner!" Kenny smiled. Clearly he knew something that I didn't, but this was not the place to pursue it.
My hand rested on Kenny's leg as we sped through the streets of downtown Birmingham. Neither of us had spoken since we left the courthouse, and as much as my burning curiosity was tearing at my vocal chords, I left it up to Kenny to speak first.
Understand, patience is not a virtue I hold dear to my heart, so this was a test I hadn't prepared for.
As we crossed the next intersection, Kenny slowed and began looking around. "I know it's here somewhere."
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"The best ribs this side of New Orleans!" Kenny's face lit up like a Christmas tree.
I had to admit, the sound of a nice rack of juicy ribs, made my mouth begin to water.
"A-Ha!" Kenny blurted out, screeching the Porsche to a halt. "This is it!"
We parked directly in front of Loomi's Chuck House.
I smiled at Kenny. "Loomi's?"
"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it."
I began to look around from my rather comfortable seat in Loomi's. Not much to look at, but the aroma of barbequed steaks and ribs made my stomach grumble, and my mouth water even more.
"Kenneth!" A voice from behind us yelled out.
"Starkey!" Kenny called back.
A rather burly man came to our table, his thick chest hair appearing through his half-buttoned shirt like carpet fur. "Aw, now, it's about time you come visit me!"
"I'm sorry, Starkey, things have been crazy." Kenny noticed Starkey looking me over. "Starkey, this is my partner, Russell."
"Oh, ho...all the good ones are always taken!" Starkey laughed as he shook my hand. "I got just the thing for you, Kenneth. You and your lover will like it, I promise!"
Starkey bounded away from the table, an even higher spring in his step.
"On of ours?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah. One of the first in Birmingham to come out with a vengeance!" Kenny laughed.
Starkey was right. The rib rack he brought us was one of the best! Finger licking was not only expected, it was downright necessary.
As we finished our meal, Kenny looked at me, that old familiar gleam in his eye.
"What? Did I miss a spot?" I asked, assuming I still had sauce on my face.
"Russell, I have something for you."
Before I could even protest or ask any stupid questions, Kenny produced a black, rectangular jewelry box.
"But, Kenny..." I began to protest.
Kenny laid his hand on mine, pushing the box forward. "Open it."
I picked up the box and carefully opened it. I gasped inward. There, before my eyes was a spectacular gold bracelet. It shimmered in the dining room lights, and I was suddenly struck speechless. "Oh, Kenny."
"Here, my Love, let's see if it fits." Russell removed the chain from the box and placed it around my wrist.
I was overwhelmed, not sure if it was the gold bracelet, or Kenny's words that touched me so deeply.
"You're my man," he continued, "and I just wanted to show you."
I was overtaken, and forgetting where I was, I reached over and kissed him dead on the lips.
Just then Starkey returned. "Ahhh, now THAT'S the way!"
I suddenly felt my face grow beat red.
"Starkey, we're ready for the check." Kenny smiled, proudly.
"Check? What check? Not here, you don't! I tell you, and I tell you, Kenneth, you're money is no good here! Go on now, you sweet young lovers!" And with that, Starkey turned to greet another couple.
I hadn't noticed until just then, that most of the 'couples' in the restaurant were men. I just simply hadn't noticed.
As we got back into the car, I played with the bracelet, lovingly twirling it around my wrist.
"So you like it?"
"Oh yes, very much, Kenny, thank you." I reached over and kissed him again.
I spent the rest of the drive home, leaning against Kenny's shoulder, wanting to be as close to him as possible.
I didn't realize just how close this night would bring us, until after we were already fast asleep...
I hope you're enjoying my story of Russell and Kenny. I welcome comments and questions, so email me at mycandlelight_dreams@yahoo.com I also have other stories posted on Nifty. If you'd like the titles, just ask me.