82
WHAT DO you do for a living, Ms. Porter?” Steven Blake asked once court had resumed. They’d ended up breaking for fifteen minutes, everyone dispersing to their separate corners to confer. Duncan had left with Alena, spent the time huddled with her on a bench in the hall. He’d exchanged a glance with Rafael, but hadn’t talked to him. Duncan hadn’t been able to get a read on what his former client was making of all this.
“I’m a model,” Alena replied, regarding Blake warily. Duncan had done his best to prep her for being crossed in the little time they’d had, but he knew she wasn’t close to fully prepared for it.
“When was the last time you worked?”
Alena’s hesitation was noticeable. “I’m not sure,” she said after a moment. “It’s been almost two months, maybe.”
“Where do you live, Ms. Porter?”
“Right now I’m staying at a friend’s who’s out of town. I’m looking for my own place.”
“And where were you living before that?”
Alena again hesitated. “In an apartment on the West Side.”
“Were you paying rent on this apartment?”
“Jeremy Roth owned it. He let me stay there.”
“You lived in this apartment by yourself?” Blake said, picking up his pace in a way Duncan recognized, trying to establish a rhythm.
“Jeremy stayed there sometimes, but he didn’t live there.”
“And Mr. Roth let you stay in this apartment for free?”
“Yes.”
“And this was while you were romantically involved with Mr. Roth?”
“Yes.”
“You are no longer involved with Mr. Roth?”
“That’s right.”
“Where did you and Mr. Roth meet?”
“At a nightclub.”
“A nightclub,” Blake repeated, the insinuation clear. “Did someone introduce the two of you?”
“One of the owners did, yes.”
“Was the owner a friend of yours?”
“We’ve known each other for a while,” Alena said.
“Is he in the habit of introducing you to rich men?”
Duncan was quickly to his feet, not having to feign his anger. “Objection,” he said. “This is badgering, and it’s irrelevant.”
“I’m simply exploring the motivation that brought this witness to court today, Your Honor.”
Lasky gave Blake a long look. “Move forward, Mr. Blake,” he said.
“Was there a specific incident that caused you to move out of the free apartment that Mr. Roth had supplied you with?”
“I don’t think it was that simple.”
“Were you out with Mr. Roth and another man the night before you moved out?”
Duncan didn’t know anything about this. There was only so much you could do to prepare a witness who didn’t tell you everything. If Alena was about to get embarrassed, she was just going to have to take the hit. “Yes.”
“A business acquaintance of Mr. Roth’s?”
“I guess.”
“And at some point in the evening, Mr. Roth went home, and you stayed out with this other man.”
Alena looked at Blake, her sharp cheekbones heightened by her clenched jaw. “I’m not a whore,” she said, her voice quiet but with a faint tremor.
Blake feigned confusion. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Alena said.
“I don’t believe I suggested that you were a prostitute, Ms. Porter,” Blake said with a slight smile. “But you are an unemployed model who lives off of rich men who you are introduced to at nightclubs; we have agreed on that, yes?”
“Your Honor,” Duncan protested.
Lasky shook his head at Blake. “There’s no jury here for you to inflame, Mr. Blake,” he said. “Get to the point.”
Blake nodded, not looking away from Alena. “You were angry at Mr. Roth for leaving you with this other man, weren’t you?”
“Actually, Mattar and I ended up having quite an interesting conversation that night,” Alena replied.
Blake resisted any impulse to inquire, following the rule of thumb that a lawyer on cross-examination shouldn’t ask questions he didn’t already know the answer to. “But you were angry at Mr. Roth for how he treated you that night, were you not?”
“I was disappointed with Jeremy, I suppose, yes.”
“You thought that you were in a serious relationship with Mr. Roth, and were surprised to learn that his view was quite different, correct?”
“I wouldn’t agree with that at all, actually.”
Blake wasn’t really trying to get concessions from her anymore, Duncan knew. At this point Blake’s focus was on the questions themselves, endeavoring to establish a scenario in the judge’s mind regardless of what answers Alena gave. Duncan felt bad for her, but he figured it was soon coming to an end. “Isn’t it a fact, Ms. Porter, that you are angry at Mr. Roth, that you are looking to get revenge on him, and that you fabricated your testimony here today in order to do so?”
Alena didn’t react to the heightened bluster. “That’s not true.”
“You are clearly the very definition of a woman scorned. Why should this court put any stock in this story you’ve put forward?”
Alena looked to Duncan, who was doing his best to keep his poker face as he offered her a slight nod. “Because I have it on tape,” she said.