Blaine Hastings Jr.’s mere presence made Doug Armstrong feel inadequate. The fifty-two-year-old lawyer was five feet six inches, balding and pudgy, and always had his nose in a book. He had tried jogging for a while but gave up on his physical fitness regime as soon as Portland’s rainy season began. Other than his failed attempt at jogging, an occasional game of golf was the closest he came to physical exertion.
Blaine Hastings Jr. radiated physical perfection. Even clad in an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, unshaven, his wavy blond hair uncombed, and his steel blue eyes bloodshot, he looked like a Greek god.
Doug estimated his client’s height at six-three and his weight at 220 pounds. The jumpsuit had short sleeves, and every muscle in Hastings’s cannonball biceps and corded forearms was clearly defined. Doug thought that Senior might have been right when he swore that Blaine Junior would never have to resort to force to get a woman in his bed.
“I’m Doug Armstrong,” the attorney said as soon as the guard left. “Your folks hired me to represent you.”
Hastings looked anxious. “Can you get me out of here?” he blurted out.
“I’m having an associate work on bail as we speak. Your folks will be posting it later today, and you should be out sometime today or tomorrow at the latest.”
“Thank you, Mr. Armstrong. This is a nightmare, being accused of something so serious when you know you’re completely innocent.”
“Blaine… Can I call you Blaine?”
Hastings nodded.
“Before we go into details about your case, I need to tell you a few things about the relationship a client has with his attorney.”
Hastings leaned forward and listened attentively.
“First, it’s important that a client trust his attorney and be completely open and honest. To ensure that you can speak freely, lawyers and clients have a special privilege that ensures that anything you say to me is confidential. That means I can’t disclose anything you say to me to anyone without your permission—not to the DA, my wife, your parents, anyone.”
“I get that,” Hastings said with a quick nod.
“Good. Now, I made a few calls before I came over. Rex Kellerman is the DA assigned to your case. He told me that a woman named Randi Stark told the police that she met you at a party and you had intercourse with her against her will.”
Hastings’s features morphed into a terrifying mask. He lurched forward and his jaw jutted out. Doug had to fight to keep from recoiling. He imagined he was feeling something similar to what a running back would feel if he saw Hastings barreling toward him.
“Stark is a lying bitch,” Hastings spat out. “I did meet her at a party and we did make out in one of the bedrooms, but I never screwed her. That’s just not true.”
“Why would she lie? That’s what a jury will want to know.”
“Two reasons. Revenge is one. When we were in high school, Randi’s boyfriend attacked me. I beat the shit out of him. When I told the cops what happened, they arrested the little prick and he served some time in juvie. So, this could be payback.”
“Why did he attack you?”
The question caught Hastings off guard. “What do you mean?” he asked. Doug thought he was stalling for time.
“People don’t usually attack other people for no reason.”
Hastings shrugged. “I insulted Stark, and he came to her rescue.”
“What was the insult?”
“The bitch told her boyfriend, Ryan, I came on to her. I called her a slut.”
“Did you come on to her?”
Hastings looked appalled. “No! Jesus. She’s cleaned up a lot, but back then, she was into this Goth thing. Rings in her nose, a stud in her tongue. She looked disgusting.”
“If nothing happened, why did she accuse you?”
Hastings’s temper flared. “Why are you cross-examining me?”
“If we go to trial, the district attorney is going to come at you a lot harder than I am, so you’ve got to be prepared. Getting defensive on the stand could sink you.”
Hastings calmed down. “Okay, I get it. Sorry I went off on you.”
“So, why do you think she accused you that time?”
“I have no idea.” Hastings shrugged. “I was pretty popular in high school, and she was anything but. Maybe she wanted everyone to think I was into her.” He shrugged again. “Maybe she wanted to make Ryan jealous. But it was all bullshit.”
“You said there was another reason for Miss Stark’s false accusation. What is it?”
“Money. I just turned twenty-one. I have a trust fund that’s worth a lot, and it vested on my birthday. You can bet your ass that little bitch is planning to sue me.”
“This is very good to know, Blaine. We can use this to cast doubt on Stark’s accusation. If you get any other ideas, don’t keep them to yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay. Now, you did know Miss Stark in high school. What kind of relationship did you have?”
“None. I hardly saw her. We didn’t run in the same circles. My family is pretty well off. We’re members of the Westmont Country Club, we have a really big house in the best part of town. When Randi was in high school, she lived in this housing project that is just barely in my high school’s district. Not that I look down on someone because they’re poor. Several guys on my teams were from the same project. But I didn’t bump into Randi outside of school, and not even in school much.
“Part of that was because I was in the AP classes, and she isn’t that swift. Also, I hung with the athletes and she hung out with the class losers. You know, tattoos, piercings, and pride in their D’s and F’s.”
“If you weren’t attracted to her, why did you make out with her at the party?”
“Like I said, she cleaned up since high school. No piercings or Goth shit. She’s still no knockout, but I was drunk. A lot of women look great when you’re drunk.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened.”
“Okay, well, we—Oregon—came up to Portland and played Portland State that afternoon. I knew some of the guys on the PSU team from high school, and they invited me and some of the other guys from the team to this frat party.
“We’re a top twenty-five team and PSU isn’t in our class, so we pretty much ran over them, and I had three sacks. I was feeling good and I had too much to drink.”
“Were there any drugs involved?”
Hastings gave a vigorous shake of his head. “There’s a good chance that I’m going to get drafted by an NFL team, so I’m very careful about what I put in my body.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Anyway, sometime after I’d started feeling a buzz, Randi and I got to talking. She’d been drinking, too, and one thing led to another and we ended up in one of the bedrooms.”
“Who initiated the move to the bedroom?”
Hastings thought for a moment. He looked concerned when he answered. “Now that I think about it, I’d say that she was the one who took the initiative.”