Small Claims Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copryright

  Blurb

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About the Author

  Other Books by Ethan Stone

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  Second Edition

  Copyright 2015

  Small Claims by Ethan Stone

  ISBN#987-0-9985112-9-1

  Small claims judge Shawn Rosen is comfortable in his career, but his personal life is another story. His twenty-year relationship ended two years ago, and while he accepts the end, he hasn’t even started to move on. He lives a generic life.

  Everything changes when Jody Jacobsen walks into his courtroom and Shawn is attracted to him. Following the case, they have a chance meeting that leads to a wild night. Waking up to cold sheets should have been a sign, but instead, Shawn keeps coming back for more. Eventually, he falls fast and hard—so hard he might be missing the clues that the commitment isn’t mutual.

  There’s trouble when the case that brought them together could also tear them apart. Will Jody give in to his tendency to run, or will he finally be the man that Shawn deserves?

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bewitched: Sony Pictures Television

  Southside Speakeasy: Southside Speakeasy Brew Pub

  Fusion: Ford Motor Company

  Nova: Chevrolet Division of General Motors

  Mike’s Hard Lemonade: Mike’s Hard Lemonade Co.

  Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

  Rocco’s: Rocco’s Bar

  Orupa: Orupa of Salem

  Elk Cove: Elk Cove Vineyards

  Boboli: Bimbo Bakeries USA

  Word: Microsoft Corporation

  Monopoly: Hasbro Inc.

  Viagra: Pfizer, Inc.

  How I Met Your Mother: 20th Television

  Scooby-Doo: Warner Bros Animation

  Kibbles ’n Bits: Del Monte Food

  CHAPTER ONE

  FRIDAY AFTERNOON AND ONLY ONE more case to hear. The weekend was definitely calling my name.

  Though I was looking forward to having time off, there wasn’t anything I was excited about doing on my days off. At least work kept me busy. I could stay late in the office and go to sleep as soon as I got home. There wasn’t anyone there waiting for me, so it didn’t matter what time I got in.

  There were things I could do at home, but nothing I really wanted to do. Christ, I needed to get a life. What kind of life I wasn’t sure, but I supposed I should have one. That was one problem with ending a twenty-year relationship—it was hard to figure out what came next. At least I had a job. Without my career, I’d be even more lost.

  The ringing phone pulled me out of my introspection.

  “Judge Rosen.”

  “Hey, Pops.”

  The cheery sound of Gabrielle’s voice always made me smile. Just those two words made me feel a thousand times better.

  “Hello, princess,” I replied. “How’s college?”

  She groaned. “I have been so busy I’ve barely had time to pull my head out of the books.”

  “You need to make time to relax so you don’t get too strung out.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Do you have any plans this weekend?”

  I paused as if I had to check my social calendar. “Nope, I’m free.”

  “Good. I’m leaving Seattle right now.”

  “So you’ll be in Salem in just a couple hours?” I asked excitedly.

  “Well…yeah, but I’m going to see Dad first.”

  Of course she was. Gabrielle wasn’t technically my daughter, but I considered her one as I’d been in her life since she was two. My ex, Scott, was her biological father thanks to teenage experimentation with a girl. Gabrielle’s mother had a drug problem, so Scott and I had maintained custody throughout the years.

  Even though Gabrielle now lived in Seattle, my split two years ago with Scott had been hard on her. I was still her pops and she would always be my princess.

  “When do I get to see you?” I asked.

  “Saturday afternoon, probably. Is that okay?”

  “Of course. Let me know if anything changes.”

  “Can’t wait to see you, Pops. I miss you.”

  “Ditto, princess.”

  There was a knock on my door and Dana, my bailiff, a tall, brunette woman, stuck her head in my office. “Five minutes, Judge Rosen.”

  I nodded and Dana retreated.

  “Okay, Gabrielle, I have to go now. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Pops.”

  I pulled my black robe over my T-shirt and jeans and straightened up as best I could. Even though the only cases I heard were small claims, I still had to appear official and judicial. Outside my office, I nodded at Dana to let her know I was ready to go.

  “All rise for the Honorable Judge Shawn Rosen,” Dana ordered the people in the courtroom.

  I entered and sat at my desk. The plaintiff and defendant were the only ones there, and they stood at their respective podiums. That was typical, though sometimes family members attended. Some cases warranted the attention of the newspapers and reporters. This wasn’t one of those.

  It appeared to be a simple case. Mrs. Margaret Gioberti, the plaintiff, had accused her neighbor of disturbing the peace by making noise late into the night. The defendant, Mr. Jody Jacobsen, had no idea what noises she was referring to. He’d attempted to resolve the case amicably out of court, but Mrs. Gioberti had refused. She was suing for five thousand dollars.

  Mrs. Gioberti was in her seventies and used a cane to walk. Mr. Jacobsen was tall—at least six foot five—and slender, with golden blond hair and dark forest green eyes.

  “Mrs. Gioberti, I’ve read your complaint, but I’d like for you to explain to me what you mean by”—I paused to read from the files—“odd noises.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “This young man, Jordy…”

  “Jody,” the defendant corrected.

  “Yeah, Jody,” Mrs. Gioberti continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. “There are sounds all the time, way past my bedtime. He keeps me up.” She had a strong Italian accent I struggled to understand.

  “What type of sounds?” I asked.

  She shook her head quickly. “I don’t know how to explain. He hits the wall that we share.”

  “You live in a duplex. Is that correct?”

  They both nodded.

  “It sounds like he is tapping the wall in my bedroom.” She gestured wildly with her hands. “Sometimes there are strange people noises.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know… Grunts. Sometimes screams. Maybe from his TV. Other times he has music turned up really loud.”

  “Mr. Jacobsen, what is your defense?”

  “I’m sorry,” Jody said. “I really don’t know what noises she could be talking about. I used to turn my music up loud because it helps me sleep, but when Mrs. G complained, I stopped doing that.”

  “Ask him about his dog,” Mrs. G interjected.

  Jody sighed and rubbed his face. “Obie hardly ever barks. He doesn’t scratch at the wall. It’s not him making noise
s.”

  “What type of dog is—? What was his name?”

  “Obie, it’s short for Obama.”

  “You named your dog after the President?” I chuckled.

  Jody’s face reddened. “His full name is Bark Obama.”

  I failed to stifle a loud laugh. “That’s clever. I like it. Anyway, what type of dog is Obie?”

  “He’s pretty much a mutt. Small, ankle-biter type. He’s got some Pomeranian and Chihuahua. Probably some Jack Russell too.”

  I tried to envision what this odd mix of dog would look like but couldn’t create an image. “So, Obie is a quiet dog?”

  “Very much so,” Jody replied. “If someone comes into our back yard, he’ll bark, but that’s about it. He prefers to sleep over just about anything.”

  Turning back to Mrs. Gioberti, I asked, “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary when you hear these odd noises?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered as if she had been waiting to be asked that question. “Two months ago, I saw a black man.”

  “Oh my god.” Jody’s mouth dropped open before he covered it with a hand.

  “You saw him where?” I asked.

  She paused before lifting a judgmental eyebrow. “Leaving.”

  I sighed. She was one of those people who had to be asked specific questions instead of just continuing the story.

  “Leaving where, Mrs. Gioberti?”

  She glanced over at Jody then answered, “He was coming out of Jody’s place.” She was speaking low, like she was telling me a secret she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Jody is…homosexual.”

  “Oh my god!” Jody blushed again. His fair skin made the reddening that much more obvious.

  The fact Jody was gay surprised me, mainly because I pretty much assumed everyone was straight unless told otherwise. He didn’t have the stereotypical affectations, but I didn’t either, so it shouldn’t have shocked me. The knowledge made me look at Jody in a new light. He was attractive—very sexy, in fact. I looked over the file again and saw his age—thirty-five. Ten years younger than me.

  “Mr. Jacobsen, do you have anything to add?”

  He nodded. “That was Andy, my ex-boyfriend. I haven’t seen him for about two months.”

  “That is when the tapping on the wall ended,” Mrs. Gioberti said. “After that, the weird people sounds started.”

  “Have you seen any other men?” I asked Mrs. Gioberti.

  “Your honor,” Jody spoke up, “I’m sure she’s seen a white guy with pink hair and lots of tattoos.”

  I chuckled. “Is that who you’ve seen, Mrs. Gioberti?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “So many noises. Keeps me up at night.”

  I was pretty sure I knew what the odd noises were, but I had to make sure. “Mr. Jacobsen, can you explain the sounds now?”

  He blushed once more and chuckled. “I have an active sex life, your honor. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  I raised a hand in surrender. “Absolutely not. I just need to get to the truth of the matter.”

  Jody sucked in a breath and slowly exhaled. “Okay, fine, here it is. Andy liked to be fu… He liked to bottom. Do you know what that means, your honor?”

  Considering I’d been a bottom for most of my time with Scott, I definitely understood. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Well, Andy liked to bottom, and he enjoyed it rough. I would assume the tapping noise Mrs. G heard was the bed hitting the wall.”

  He was bright red and it made him even sexier. Did his entire body change color when embarrassed?

  “Carl is very loud in bed,” he continued.

  I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hand. “Carl is the male with pink hair and tattoos?”

  “Yes, sir. He is very loud, even when gagged. There isn’t much I can do to quiet him down. Trust me. I’ve done my best.”

  I respected Jody for being a man and talking about his sex life despite the embarrassment.

  “Mrs. Gioberti,” I said, “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for you. Mr. Jacobsen is allowed to have a sex life. It’s not his fault the walls are so thin in your duplex. If it’s that much of a problem, I suggest you move.”

  “No, no, I will not move. He should move!” She pointed at Jody and scowled. “I was there first. He does weird things. Very bad things.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “In his bedroom, he has some sort of swing—and handcuffs. He isn’t a police officer. He shouldn’t have handcuffs if he isn’t police. And…and,” she stammered, “on his rear end… He has a smiley face on his rear end. That is not good. I have no problem with homosexuals, but what he does is…wrong.”

  Jody’s jaw was practically on the floor as he stared at his neighbor. “Excuse me. How the hell do you know what’s in my bedroom?”

  I held up a hand. “Please, let me handle this.”

  “But, your honor, she—”

  I put a finger to my lips. “I know what she said, Mr. Jacobsen. I can deal with this. Mrs. Gioberti, how do you know what’s in his bedroom?”

  She froze like a deer in the headlights. “Well, I looked inside a couple times. I thought something was wrong, so I went into his back yard.”

  “Do you realize that is illegal?”

  “I was worried for his safety,” she insisted.

  “One of those times you caught him having sex. Is that correct? That’s how you know about his tattoo.”

  She nodded. “I was trying to be a good neighbor.”

  “I’m not buying that story,” I said. “I think you’re the stereotypical nosy neighbor.”

  “Just like Mrs. Kravitz,” Jody snapped.

  Had he really just made a Bewitched reference? Most young men his age knew about Samantha only from the horrible Nicole Kidman movie. Bewitched just happened to be one of my favorite shows.

  “I’m finding in favor of the defendant,” I announced. “The sounds are not above and beyond what is permitted. Additionally, Mrs. Gioberti, you have crossed the line. He could sue you for violating his rights.”

  “I won’t be doing that,” Jody said. “I just want to forget this ever happened.”

  “Count yourself lucky, Mrs. Gioberti, and I suggest you stay on your side of the duplex. And buy ear plugs.” I pounded the gavel. “Case closed.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  GOING HOME TO AN EMPTY house was never fun, but it seemed particularly worse on Friday evenings. For years, I’d looked forward to the weekend because it was when Scott, Gabrielle, and I had done things together as a family. In the summers, we’d gone to the coast or the zoo in Portland. There weren’t a lot of fun things to do in Salem, Oregon, but we had found activities.

  When Gabrielle had been young, we would go to Enchanted Forest and as she’d got older, we got into hiking. Our favorite place was Silver Falls State Park. We had been a family. They had been my life. It all seemed to disappear in an instant, but it had actually taken years for Scott and me to get to the point where there was nothing between us anymore.

  I tried not to think about what I used to have as I made a casserole for dinner and ate it in front of the television. Surprisingly, my mind wandered to my last case of the day and the cute defendant.

  Jody Jacobsen was simply adorable, especially when he’d embarrassingly admitted to his rather active sex life. I hadn’t felt any kind of attraction to a man I had just met in some time. After the split, my libido had all but disappeared. With more than a little shock, I realized it had been three years since I’d had sex. Scott and I had broken up two years ago, and we hadn’t had sex once in that final twelve months. Before that, it had been hit and miss. I hadn’t really thought all that much about sex at the time. I hadn’t understood neither one of us was trying to stay in love—we’d just assumed the feelings would always be there.

  I flipped from movie to movie and show to show, unable to concentrate on anything. By 10 p.m. I was driving myself insane. I needed to get out, even if it was o
nly for a short time.

  Despite being the state capitol, Salem had just one gay club—the Southside Speakeasy. Portland had a larger selection of bars, but I didn’t feel like driving an hour when I might end up spending less time than that in the club.

  After searching my closet, I chose a pair of tight black jeans and a dark blue button up. I was in good shape for a middle-aged man. I had a little Buddha belly I couldn’t get rid of no matter how much I worked out, but I had well-defined pecs and decent biceps. My once jet-black hair was quickly becoming salt and pepper, but at least I still had my hair.

  More than once I’d almost changed my mind about going out. The Speakeasy clientele were usually men and women half my age, and the few times I’d been, I hadn’t felt comfortable at all. I didn’t expect to meet anyone at the bar. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even talk to a guy. But I had to get out of the house. I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life and starting over had to begin somewhere.

  I pushed myself to leave the house, get in the car, and drive the ten minutes to south Salem. The lot was packed when I arrived, but I found a spot not too far away. Breathing deeply, I psyched myself up. Then, before I could chicken out, I opened the car door and strode into the club.

  After paying the cover charge, I had my hand stamped and pushed my way into the crowd. It was a busy night. Throngs of people spoke in clusters and the dance floor was full. From what I could see, it was mostly people in their early to mid-twenties—kids the same as age as my daughter.

  What the fuck was I thinking? Watching the kids chatter and laugh only made me feel older and more alone. I hardly had any friends. Scott and Gabrielle had taken all my time and I hadn’t needed buddies to hang out with. Losing Scott meant I’d lost my partner and my best friend.

  One drink. After that I would leave, but I had to have at least one. I made my way to the bar then waved over the bartender and ordered a Screwdriver. I paid, left a nice tip, and searched for a place to sit. Unable to find a seat in the main room, I went into the poolroom and sat at a small table. It was much quieter, especially since no one was using the billiards table.