Make Your Own Luck

Chapter One

THE SOUTH FLORIDA sun scorched my face as my father and I exited the Broward County Courthouse.

“You did a great job at Michael Sharpe’s probable cause hear­ing,” he said. “He’ll be able to post that bond without a problem. You’re on your way, Remy. You’ll be at the top of the legal profes­sion before you know it. Aren’t you glad you didn’t go to art school?”

I quickened my steps to keep up with his long strides. I was twenty-nine years old, five foot two inches tall and barely made it into the three-digit world of weight. I was small compared to Clarence Darrow Woods, my over six foot tall and well-built father. I was an associate attorney at his law firm.

His question hung in my mind. Aren’t you glad you didn’t go to art school? I was about to respond when my father’s phone rang. By the soft tone of his voice, I knew it was his wife, Maria Elena.

“Remy’s right here,” he said into his cell. “She did a fabulous job. Yes, I’ll tell her you’re proud of her.” He waved to an attorney across the street. “I ripped his client apart in court last week. What’s that? Oh, sorry, honey, I was talking to Remy. Yes, I’m listening.” He winked at me then put his attention back to the call. “Are you crying? Is this about Carlos? Can we talk about him later? I have to go.” He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket.

Carlos was my half brother. I was ten years old when Maria Elena had moved into our home only a few months after my mother had died of ovarian cancer. At the time, Maria Elena had been very pregnant, complained about her swollen feet and made us recycle cans and newspapers. When Carlos was born, I hated him. It didn’t take long for my loathing for the baby in the blue blanket to turn to curiosity. He smelled like powder and milk burps and blew bubbles with his tiny pink lips. The first time I went into his room and his eyes lit up, Carlos became my other favorite obsession. I’ve been trying to protect him ever since.

“Did Maria Elena hear from Carlos?” I asked.

My father’s blue eyes turned intense like interrogation spotlights. “The only thing you need to worry about is Michael Sharpe’s case. You need to focus on preventing the state from filing charges against him. If he gets convicted of soliciting a minor he’s going to lose his job as county commissioner, his position on the board of SafeChild and he’s going to prison.”

“What about the girl?”
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