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didn’t feel longing or confusion or loss. She felt pure, uninhibited anger. He’d used her and had been scamming her from the beginning. And now he was here to take the only thing left: her sanity.
    He may have played her for a fool, but in the long run, she would win. Knowing this didn’t stop the anger.
    â€œMay I address the court?” Dante said.
    Gleefully, the judge lowered the gavel. “I don’t know. Who are you, and what do you want?”
    Dante came forward and moved next to the ADA. What did he think he was doing, auditioning for Law & Order ? “Uh, I’m Dante Manuel, the victim.”
    This brought giggles from the gallery.
    An inch shy of six feet, Dante hardly looked like a victim. More like a down-on-his-luck door-to-door salesman.
    Were those extensions in his greasy head? Yuck.
    Tia made herself look away. With each passing second, the desire to punch him increased. As a precaution, she took two steps closer to the police officer. That way he could easily zap her ankle with his Taser, and she’d avoid a homicide charge.
    â€œYour Honor, it was my car Ms. Amberson vandalized. And I feel that some kind of rectification needs to take place.”
    Ill-concealed laughter rocked the stuffy courtroom. Not the big words. He must have found her Expand Your Vocabulary book, looking for the fifty-dollar bill she kept hidden in there for emergencies.
    Tia took a deep breath, held it, and started counting. If she calculated correctly, at about 450 seconds, she should drop dead.
    â€œAnd what type of rectification would you like?” the judge asked, his mental TiVo recording for on-demand playback.
    Dante swayed, getting into it. “I think some community service is good, and jail time wouldn’t hurt. Uh, I mean, I don’t know if she’s going to snap again. I mean, she looks fine now, but you never know.”
    The judge’s clerk covered her face with her hands and shook her blond head.
    â€œMr. Manuel,” the judge said, trying to keep a straight face. “You’ll have to provide your own personal security if you’re scared of Ms. Amberson.”
    â€œI didn’t say I was scared.” Dante looked at Tia—and blinked first. “M-maybe I’ll think about that.”
    â€œGood.” The judge lifted the gavel.
    â€œUh,” Dante interrupted. “Do I get the two hundred dollars the court is collecting?”
    Howling, stomping feet, and clapping echoed off the four walls. The judge bellowed and only stopped laughing to wipe his eyes.
    Leroy looked at Tia, and for one moment, they were caught together in the vortex of shame. He objected, to no avail.
    Dante had done something she’d never thought would happen to her. He’d bubble-gummed their names under the circus heading freak show.
    â€œShe’s probably as stupid as him,” a woman said, loud enough for Tia to hear. Leroy objected, while the judge tried to restore order.
    Tia made a silent vow that if she ever committed another crime of passion, she’d do it in Winder, Georgia, where the probability of the gallery being filled with frightened white people was very high.
    The judge’s professional face struggled to return. “Mr. Manuel, we don’t offer rebates. Ms. Amberson, are there articles that have to be removed from the residence?”
    â€œSir, the condo is mine. I bought it from the bank after it was foreclosed on. Although it was Mr. Manuel’s property before and during the foreclosure. We were going to live there together, but he made another choice, and consequently, we’re not together.”
    â€œI see. Well, that changes things.”
    Tia held her breath.
    â€œI don’t think she deserves the place, Your Honor,” Dante said. “She bought it for me. That’s why she left.”
    The lie slipped easily from Dante’s mouth, and for the first time ever, Tia found him to be a believable actor.
    The