105 Dead Or Alive

You fall, you rise, you make mistakes, you live, you learn. You’re human, not perfect. You’ve been hurt, but you’re alive. Think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive—to breathe, to think, to enjoy, and to chase the things you love. Sometimes there is sadness in our journey, but there is also lots of beauty. We must keep putting one foot in front of the other even when we hurt, for we will never know what is waiting for us just around the bend.

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Trucy Wright
Wright Talent Agency
December 25, 2025, 9:05 AM

Did either one of them believe me? I sounded so… Guilty.

Trucy sat before the office computer, staring at the blank monitor for a full five minutes after signing off video chat off with Pearl and Luke. Her conscience gnawed at her like a ravenous sewer rat, castigating her for lying to both her best friend and her boyfriend about where her father was that morning. Not anticipating the question, when Luke and asked if he could say hello to Phoenix, without thinking, and for lack of a better immediate excuse, the magician had blurted out that her Daddy had gone to the store. Even if she had been further pressed on the issue, however, Trucy wouldn’t have known what to say.

Because she honestly had no clue where her father was!

The combination of her guilt for fibbing regarding Phoenix’s whereabouts, coupled with the genuine lack of knowledge of where he could possibly be was slowly driving her insane.

When she had been dropped off at her home at 8:00 AM that morning by Gouda’s father, she had fully anticipated that after a holiday company party, her never been a morning person father would still be in bed, sleeping off the effects of the night before.

Trucy had planned to quietly slip in, prepare a terrific holiday breakfast for the both of them, and give her father his Christmas gift, which was a brand-new shaving kit. Her ‘DILF’ Daddy was looking pretty scruffy lately! (At 15 now, she knew what that word actually meant, and was beyond mortified at what wanton jezebels she’d had for elementary school teachers!)

The gift had been as much for her as well as Phoenix. She knew that he’d barely been using his old, dull-looking blade lately, but hoped if presented with a shiny, new, silver razor, with changeable blades, he’d finally ditch the Canadian lumberjack look and get the incentive to want to clean himself up a little! The set came with a nice leather bag, including sandalwood shaving soap and aftershave, as well as a lathering, boar-bristle brush, too! After all, how was Daddy supposed to find her a Mommy when he walked around looking like an unsmiling and unshaven hobo? Trucy had been making a new Mommy her number one request for nearly the past seven years, on both her Christmas and birthday wish list, not even opting for subtlety anymore.

Her parent had simply smiled wanly each time and stated that he wished she’d ask something more reasonably attainable, like a Barbie doll, or as she got older … A pet of some sort!

With their shoestring household budget though, she was sure the only one they’d be able to afford was a pet rock!

It wasn’t that he was purposely trying to deny Trucy her fondest wish, the pianist patiently explained to his daughter on numerous occasions. It was simply the fact that women were generally not lining up to date a “disbarred former defense attorney turned second-rate pianist.”

The idealist magician tenaciously remained undaunted. For one thing, her ever-humble Daddy was nowhere near as bad a piano player as he thought he was! She remembered hearing him practice one particularly sweet-sounding song on his keyboard, every night, for several weeks, leading up to last Christmas, when he thought she’d been in bed. Trucy had gotten up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and had secretly listened to Phoenix singing along to the tune he was playing downstairs in the office with a smile on her lips. The song was from a band whose music was way before Trucy’s time, called Journey. Looking up the ballad, “Faithfully” on YouTube, she was astounded to hear what a comparatively ariose singing voice her father had! Why didn’t he croon at the bar more often? Indisputably, should any available woman had heard what a golden-throated lark he was, she’d most certainly swoon, so that’d be a huge point in her Daddy’s favor!

My supposedly average pianist father is a secret songbird, it seems. What else has he been hiding from me?!

There was also the fact that when Phoenix shaved, showered, and smiled, Trucy’s father was the most handsome man she knew! Who cared if he didn’t drive or have a fancy house or job? Her Daddy was a good person, as well as a great singer! Somewhere out there in the world, there had to be a special sort of lady who wasn’t superficial, and didn’t care about stupid things like jobs and status! The teen was certain out of the over seven billion people on earth, surely there must be one woman worthy enough to find a place in Daddy’s heart! Besides, if prison inmates could get married, then her father could, too!

On Christmas morning, however, from the moment she had walked in through the door, Trucy had known something was not right. The observant teen was quick to note that when she went to hang up her cape on the coat rack and place her house keys on the wall hook, neither her father’s jacket nor keys were present in either location. In addition, his sandals were not in their usual place on the shoe rack.

A feeling of unease flickered within her.

Perhaps Daddy staggered in really late the night before from a little too much holiday celebration and took everything with him to his room, and is now dead to the world? Yes, that’s it! I’m being silly and worrying over nothing!

Trucy tiptoed upstairs and placed an ear to Phoenix’s bedroom door, but only detected complete silence.

Why don’t I hear him snoring like a band saw, as per usual?

Quietly, so as not to awaken him, she tentatively opened the door a crack, and immediately saw that the bed was completely made and hadn’t been slept in.

Her brow knitted with concern, Trucy looked down at her watch and saw it was 8:05. Daddy must have stayed over somewhere. Maybe he had gone home with his colleague Tyler after the party. She would give him a call if she couldn’t reach her father, and find out when he would be home. As it was, Trucy was home earlier than she had expected to be, but Gouda and her family were going to visit with some cousins on the other side of town that day, and the car ride was a lengthy one, therefore they had dropped Trucy off en route, in hopes to beat the holiday traffic.

Just then, she heard the computer buzzing downstairs. She had a Skype call.

After ringing off with her friends, the first thing Trucy had done was call her father’s cell, which went straight to voicemail.

Next, she rang Tyler and Sasha, figuring that since they had young children, they would undoubtedly be awake this early on Christmas morning. However, after a few moments of pleasant small talk, her first call ultimately led to a dead-end, with the bartender telling Trucy that he had seen Phoenix the night before at the party, but her father had been the first one to leave, and not been heard from since.

Finally, she tried calling Uncle Gumshoe, who also hadn’t heard from her father since the night before, and of course, reiterated his offer to have them come over later.

“He’s still not back, pal?” The police chief sounded perturbed. “I hope he’s not randomly passed out in a ditch or something…”

Upon hearing this, the teen felt her heart, almost literally, standstill.

“I wonder if we should be worried.” Gumshoe continued thinking aloud, oblivious, as usual, about the effect his words were having on his now panicked niece. “Hmmm…Do I need to put out an APB on that guy to find out if he’s dead or alive?”

“Dick, you big oaf! When are you ever going to learn that when you’re thinking and your lips are moving, it means you’re talking?” Aunt Maggey scolded in the background. “I’m sure Phoenix is fine! He’s probably crashed at a coworker’s place, and is more than likely still sleeping off the effects of the party! Why do you have to go and worry that poor little girl for?”

“Oops! Heh, heh, you’re right, honey,” Gumshoe muttered sheepishly. “Trucy, give your father a buzz and leave a message if he doesn’t answer. But if he’s not back by say, noonish, call me back, OK?”

“Thanks, I will, Uncle Gumshoe,” the girl mumbled. “Merry Christmas. Take care.”

Finally, Trucy called Larry’s number, which of course didn’t give her any further clue of Phoenix’s whereabouts either, and her second call to his cell proved to be as futile as the first.

Trucy checked the train schedule online and noted that the last train to Kurain had stopped running at 5:00 PM Christmas Eve, so she could rule out the possibility he’d gone to see Iris after his work party.

She tried to squelch her mounting misgivings, attempting to convince herself that even as an overnight guest, her sleepyhead father was unlikely to be awake already. Nevertheless, a head’s up call or text sure would’ve been nice right about now! She looked at the clock and saw that it was 9:15.

For completely inexplicable reasons, the magician suddenly felt compelled to go back into Phoenix’s room, which she normally never did, except to put away laundry on top of his bed. She tried to rationalize that she wasn’t being unnecessarily nosy and that within these four walls there might be a hint as to his current whereabouts, but in the end, she ended up nearly tearing his wardrobe and dressers apart in her quest.

Naturally, she found nothing.

Siegfried and Roy caught in a man-eating tiger cage! Where are you, Daddy?! I’m seriously starting to get worried here!

Grumbling to herself, the teen hastily restored everything to its proper order, then let out a frustrated grunt and flopped onto her father’s bed, accidentally whacking her ankle, quite painfully, on the bottom drawer of Phoenix’s heavy wooden night table. Biting back a curse, Trucy looked down and realized that the cause for the injury was because the drawer wasn’t fully closed, as it appeared to be stuffed to maximum capacity, and was, therefore, still partially opened.

What in the name of David Copperfield does he keep in there anyway?

Trucy wasn’t even going to pretend she wasn’t snooping anymore. Her mysterious, secretive father was presently missing, and up until the night before, had spoken very little to her about his comings and goings, or at all, in general! Perhaps she could find some clues that would make her understand him a bit better, and give her better insight into why he had stopped smiling over nine months ago.

The first item she found shoved into the drawer was the previous day’s lifestyle section of the LA Times.

Huh. That’s odd. I could’ve sworn I threw that into the kitchen-recycling box before I went to work yesterday! Hmmm, I wonder what’s in this rectangular wooden box?

Inside the drawer was a shiny, mahogany chest, approximately the size of a standard, chocolate gift box. It wasn’t locked, so she had no problem popping the lid open to study its contents. Inside was a miscellaneous combination of curious things that she could make no sense of at all, as each discovery was more random than the next.

A bullet in a small plastic bag

A weird business card with a seashell emblem

The fingerprinting powder Phoenix had told her he’d gotten from his friend, Ema Skye when he had taken on her sister’s case many moons ago

A drawing of some sort of object, flying over an unknown commodity that appeared to be on fire, or something to that effect

Whoever drew that had a fantastic imagination, but no artistic skills whatsoever! Someone should tell them not to quit their day job!

In Trucy’s amateur artsy opinion, the next drawing she stumbled upon was considerably better. It was on a business card that had a pink shell on it, with a spiky-haired man drawn over it in Sharpie. Trucy would have recognized the likeness of her father’s spikes, even if she hadn’t seen Nick written on it.

Huh. Nick? Nobody calls him that except Uncle Larry. Did he draw this too? Maybe his skills improved from the time that he drew a flying stick figure over a fire. Alrighty, this investigation has been a complete bust! So much for getting any clues from here!

Exasperated now, Trucy tried to shove the box back into the drawer but found she was unable to, as it kept hitting something hidden in the rear corner, which she had somehow missed. Reaching her hand to the very back of the drawer, which was longer and deeper than she had thought, Trucy’s searching fingers closed upon a smaller box.

Snapping the lid open, the teen looked at the contents within the velvet jeweler box, and let out a stunned gasp. Not one, but two exquisite pieces of jewelry lay inside. Women’s jewelry.

The first item was a stunning, heart-shaped gold pendant, which was on a delicately braided gold chain. Unfortunately, the necklace was broken on the actual chain link itself, not the clasp, looking as though it’d nearly been snapped in two. The heart pendant remained undamaged. Examining it more closely, Trucy saw it was engraved in the back, and smiled at the romantic inscription.

I love you madly, without question or reason, and care naught if it’s for a lifetime or season.

Running her fingernail along the edge, the teen realized that the pendant was a locket, and popped it open. The heart’s interior allowed room for two small photos inside. On one side was a picture of a breathtakingly beautiful woman, with long caramel hair, kind brown eyes, and a smile like an angel’s. On the other side, Trucy immediately recognized her father and Pearl, who was no older than eight or nine at the time, in a rowboat, on a body of water. Next to the two was a pretty, familiar-looking, older girl, with long black hair and mischievous dark eyes, pressing her face against Phoenix’s as she waved at the camera. Although she had been much younger in this locket photo, Trucy recognized the raven-haired female as her father’s former assistant, Maya Fey. The very same woman whose engagement had been in the newspaper the previous day.

There’s no indication of whom this locket belonged to, but that is the very same newspaper Daddy swiped, then stashed, into his night table drawer! Why did he do that? It doesn’t make sense…

The second piece in the tiny box was truly a sight to behold. It was a striking silver ring, with the symbol of infinity on it, lined with tiny chips of two different sets of birthday gemstones on each side of it, crystal and blue zircon, the latter, which Trucy recognized as her father’s birthstone.

Forever yours, faithfully was engraved on the back.

Maybe Daddy bought this ring so he could give it to the next lady he meets, who will be my new Mommy! How sweet! I had no idea my father was so romantic!

Upon further scrutiny, however, Trucy realized that the ring was not intended for a future recipient, as it was not new. Even though it was still shiny and well taken care of, closer inspection suggested that it had belonged to somebody previously, which meant that Phoenix had already gifted this ring at some point. Trucy couldn’t ascertain how long ago it had been, but she did know that he must have been keeping that ring for very sentimental and personal reasons.

The magician’s intuition went into overdrive at that moment. She knew that the ring hadn’t belonged to Iris. She could just sense it. Her instincts also told her that the same mystery wearer of this ring was the same one to whom the locket had belonged, and that same lady had also been the keeper of her father’s heart. Perhaps this woman had something to do with the fact that Daddy had suddenly stopped smiling.

There was no denying the teen was slightly hurt that Phoenix had chosen to keep such a large part of his life hidden from her. However, more than anything, Trucy was overcome with an overwhelming sense of helpless despair, because her father felt he’d had to endure such hapless, wretched heartache, all alone.

Why had her Daddy stopped smiling? What had made him so sad? It wasn’t just a losing his badge. Her father had still managed to smile after that for the longest time. It was something more. Something else.

Trucy clutched the locket in one hand and the ring in the other then brought her clenched fists up to her forehead and felt tears of sorrow and confusion stinging her eyes.

“Daddy,” she whispered sadly into the empty room. “What happened to you?”

Phoenix Wright
Mystery Location
Time and Date Unknown

Phoenix opened his eyes in a strange, dimly lit room. Although sensing it was daytime by the brightness of the sun bursting against the thick window drapes, nobody had opened them yet. As he shifted, the creaky springs of the sofa beneath him made a loud squeak of protest in the otherwise silent room. The noise pierced his ears, making him realize his head was positively killing him. He squinted, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva, and let out a tortured moan before retreating under the duvet that covered him.

The fact that he had no earthly idea of where the hell he was…well, that was a fact he would contend with later. Much, much later. What was important was that his sorry hungover ass wasn’t dead or in a gutter somewhere, even though he felt like death warmed over!

“Wake up, Phoenix! Day’s a breakin’! Yonder comes a hare with his tail a shakin’!”

The sharp twang made the pianist’s balls jump right back into his body!

Oh. Good. Gawd. An intense feeling of dread began to course through him. Speaking of ear-splitting sounds…That voice… sounds like nails on a chalkboard…

Upon seeing the source of the migraine-inducing sound, the hobo sprung aloft like a Jack in the Box, oblivious that the act of sitting up so abruptly had flung the blanket to the ground, and exposed the fact that he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Jesus H. Christ in a chicken basket! Why am I practically naked?!

Standing before him, looking like something out of the Victoria’s Secret lingerie catalog, stood Miss Southern Belle herself. She was wearing a poppy-red, baby doll negligée, which had lace triangle cups with cross-strap bust detail, and a mesh-skirted bottom, along with matching, high-cut sheer panties with lace trim, and a dark scowl on her toothsome visage.

The spiky-haired man gulped.

It’s official – my dick legit jumped back inside me! It’s now in my stomach. I’m all balls!

“Normally I’d say, well lookit what the cat dragged in,” she drawled. “But of course, that would imply that yer drunk as Cooter Brown behind had left here at some point! I reckon it’s a trifle more appropriate to say ya look like ya been ridden hard and hung up wet, Phoenix Wright!”

“R – rode h – hard?” He stammered, suddenly incredibly self-conscious about his lack of attire. The DILF surreptitiously made a move to grab the flung cover off the floor and hide from her scathing eyes for decorum purposes, which seemed ridiculous, considering what had already happened between them. Well, what he presumed had transpired, anyway – it wasn’t as though he could ask for confirmation! 

Could he?!

How does one react in these situations? Did I miss my cue to ask ‘ was it good for you, too?‘ I’m sure I can safely assume that I was a happy camper? I mean, look at her! It must have been good for me! Not that I remember any of it!

Tiffany saw the attempted modesty action and gave a derisive snort.

“Why so shy all of a sudden, sweet cheeks?” She purred, leaning forward, and booping him on the nose. “Yew ain’t got a dang thing I haven’t seen already! Wasn’t even eight hours ago that there wadn’t nothin’ between yew and the Lord but a smile.”

“T – The Lord?” Phoenix was beyond mortified.

Sweet Pulsating Spider Christ, we didn’t! Please tell me we didn’t!

“Well, I suppose that ain’t quite right. I mean, last night yew were as naked as the day yew was born but I reckon the proper phrase woulda been wadn’t nothin’ between yew and me but a smile.” Tiffany flashed a shit-eating grin. “Although there was some hootin’ and hollerin’ towards the Man upstairs, so I reckon He was an omnipresent witness to last night’s shenanigans…”

The aching in my skull ebbs and flows like a cold tide, yet the pain is always there. I understand at once, why they call it a hangover, for it feels as if the blackest of clouds loom over my head, with no intention of clearing up until at least late afternoon.

“Please stop torturing me like this, I beg of you!” Phoenix moaned and clutched his throbbing head in his hands. “Tiffany, I’m as confused as a hungry baby in a topless bar! Exactly what the hell happened last night?! Did I, I mean, did you…that is, did we…er…did you and me…?”

For some reason, the question seemed to aggravate the shapely blonde.

“Why, ya cotton’ pickin,’ egg-suckin’ dawg!” All traces of mirth vanished from the waitress’s mien, and her japing grin was replaced by a ferocious glare. “Do ya mean to tell me that yer sitting there on ma divan, lookin’ like ya dunno whether to check yer ass or scratch yer watch, cuz yew fo’sho ain’t got no dang recollection of what happened last night?”

“I’m so sorry!” The hobo stared at her helplessly. “I don’t even know why you’re so mad at me! Um, was my performance lacking somehow? Did I leave you hanging or disappointed or something –?”

“Disappointed?” Tiffany let out a derisive, unladylike snort. “Yew gotta be kidding me! I see all that wine ya consumed has left yer brain about as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle!”

“Um … So that means I didn’t disappoint you, then?” Phoenix asked hopefully, completely uncertain at this point as to what he wanted the answer to be anymore! “Because I normally try super hard to be solicitous in the sack, honest!”

“Hush yer dang mouth!” The Alabammer Slammer commanded, folding her arms across her ample bosom and scowling at him. “I’m fixin’ to jog yer memory since yew seems to be as lost as last year’s Easter egg…”

Phoenix Wright and Tiffany Pearce
Tiffany Pearce’s Apartment
December 25, 2025, 12:45 AM

“Dang, boy! Where did yew learn how to kiss like that?” Tiffany’s mouth was bruised and slightly swollen from the fierceness of the card shark’s kisses as he buried his lips against her throat.

“It all just comes naturally with you, baby!” He groaned, grinding his hips against her pelvis as she writhed beneath him on the couch. “You’re so damn hot!”

Unfortunately, despite their steamy makeout session and frantic dry humping for the past half hour, it seemed as though certain parts of Phoenix’s anatomy just were not cooperating with his heated words! It was like pushing rope, even though they were both wearing nothing but their underwear at that point! Tiffany began to grow impatient and even reached down to try to help things along with her expert fingers but to no avail.

Dagnabbit! The bar wench was growing steadily irritated. It seems all that blasted wine has made his manhood as useless as a steering wheel on a mule!

“This has never happened before!” He grunted in frustration and sat up, twin trails of sweat trickling down from underneath his beanie and down his flushed cheeks. “I’m so sorry…”

“It ain’t yer fault, suga,” Tiffany cooed, rolling out from underneath him then. “Every winter, they crank the heat so high on this dang building that it’s hotter than a jalapeño’s coochie in here! How’s about I give yew a couple of minutes to cool off…”

She then bent over, and with lightning-quick reflexes, relieved him of both his beanie and boxers, the latter which piled down by his ankles in a red and green plaid pool of fabric. Biting her lip, this time with appreciation rather than concern, she eyed his well-defined pecs and sculpted abs ravenously. Truly, her colleague was one fine specimen. Who could have possibly known what kind of physique he’d been hiding underneath those bulky sweats all these years? She hankered to give him a complete tongue bath, and was wholly confident that she had just what the doctor ordered to make that soldier of his stand at attention!

“Just wait right here, sexy, and brace yourself for the night of yer life,” Tiffany promised, running one long fingernail down from his chest to his navel. “Ima go slip into something more comfortable and be right back.”

“Don’t take too long, hot stuff.” His eyes were dark with desire. “I can’t wait to get my hands on every part of that gorgeous body of yours.”

The sexpot gave a throaty chuckle and flashed him a saucy wink, leaving the pianist grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater as she sashayed off to her bedroom to put on her sexiest, yet to be worn lingerie set. She preened in front of the mirror, pleased with her appearance as she fluffed out her long curls and adjusted her full bust into place accordingly.

If this doesn’t get that man’s blood pumping in all his regions, he’s got ice water in his veins! She licked her lips with anticipation as she sashayed back to the living room. It’s taken me almost seven years to determine that my past suspicions were correct… But lawdy, lawdy, if that man is as much a grow-er as he’s is an impressive show-er, I am one lucky gal tonight!

However, to Tiffany’s great chagrin, when she returned to the couch, she found her would-be lover passed out and facedown. His boxers remained down by his ankles and he was snoring noisily, sounding very much like a 747 plane at takeoff!

No problem, I know how to get him to rise to attention…

Bending over the sleeping man’s prostrate form, she began leaving light, teasing kisses on his body, starting by first nipping at his earlobe then trailing down the side of his neck. The pianist stirred slightly but remained out like a light.

Dang it, the man sleeps like the dead! I’d have an easier time reviving Elvis!

Undeterred, the determined blonde continued to plant kisses down her coworker’s back while her lightly scratching talons followed the trail until she finally was bending over Phoenix’s bare, firm buttocks. She pressed her lips against his lower back and then prepared to give them sweet cheeks a nice wholesome squeeze, which she was sure would rouse him.

And that was it happened, without any warning, faster than a bell clapper in a goose’s ass!

THPPTPHTPHPHHPH!

The initial stank blast was mighty and boisterous. Tiffany almost literally could feel her long curls being blown back from the explosive force. If she hadn’t been standing in the way of the empty soda can she’d left forgotten on her coffee table, she was positive the back-end blowout could have probably knocked over her earlier consumed Diet Coke.

However, what immediately followed the butt yodeling out of the gas chamber was what was truly horrifying. The ass acoustic implication changed, swiftly and without notice. It went from a loud, dry air horn squeal to a nefarious, hissing mephitis. Because she was so close to the bumsen burner, the poor waitress was made privy to the noxious metamorphosis sooner, rather than later. She jerked her neck violently, trying to get away from the personified evil being fumigated into her soul and she wondered if the fetid backdraft emitted could mean certain death. In total, it lasted about 4 seconds, but for Tiffany, it seemed like time was frozen. The long-term, severe brain damage, which she was sure she’d suffer, not to mention how badly her poor, abused nostrils had been fumigated, only added to that effect.

Tiffany jumped up in horror, one hand plugging her nose, the other frantically waving about her as she desperately tried to clear the befouled air so that she could resume breathing again.

Forget lightin’ a match! I’m fixin’ to light a whole match BOOK!

“Lawd have mercy, that’s just nasty!” She exclaimed disgustedly, curling her lip. “I thought the damn peckerwood only had wine but based on that lethal stench, fo’sho he snuck some beer in there tonight as well! That stinks so bad it could knock a buzzard off a gut wagon! Ugh, the hell with this! Mr. Booty Bomb and his rank air biscuits can just park it out here, dagnabbit! I’m going to bed!”

She spun around on her heel and began stalking back towards her bedroom in a huff, then thought the better of it. Holding her breath once again, Tiffany quickly yanked Phoenix’s underwear back up, and then covered him with the afghan she kept on the armchair for whenever she would be watching late-night movies on TV.

“Ain’t no way I’m leaving that sphincter siren exposed, with them guns still blazing hot! Mr. Horton Hears a Poo is likely to burn a hole into my poor divan!” She stomped back towards her room then, muttering to herself. “Very Airy Christmas to me indeed!”

Phoenix Wright and Tiffany Pearce
Tiffany Pearce’s Apartment
December 25, 2025, 8:30 AM

Jesus, Mary, And Joseph Stalin! And I was already poised to slit my wrists after the bra-shopping incident!

The traumatized ex-lawyer remained frozen with mortification on that couch while Tiffany finished relaying his tail of shame. He couldn’t believe such a colossally humiliating thing had happened – yet again! – with his colleague, who he had to somehow still face regularly after this, no less!

His head began to spin, and he dropped it into his hands with a loud groan, knowing he’d never live this down for as long as he lived….

” I see that ya stopped your jaw jackin’ now.” Tiffany arched an eyebrow at his slumped-over form. “Ain’t got nuttin’ to say for yerself, Mr. Rootin McTootin?”

“A thousand pardons!”  Phoenix peeked up at her with guilty, bloodshot orbs, then winced as his colleague visibly fumed at the inquiry. “Um, was it that bad?”

“Smelled bad enough to gag a maggot,” she confirmed, heaving a gusty sigh. “I reckon all my nose hairs were done disintegrated on impact!”

“There are no words to express how sorry I am, Tiffany.”

Phoenix grabbed his clothes from the ground and hastily shoved his legs back into his joggers while yanking his T-shirt on over his head. Reaching into his pocket for his cell phone, he tried to power it on, only to find that the battery was 100% dead.

Dammit! Trucy’s probably worried sick already!

“Can I buy you a coffee or something some time, to thank you for looking after my sorry drunken ass last night?”

“Coffee?” She spat out the word as though it were blasphemy, and then stuck out her lower lip into a pout. “That’s yer big ol’ plan to make things up to me?!”

“My little girl’s at home, probably wondering whether I’m dead or alive!” He grabbed his sweatshirt and beanie. “I need to get home to her!”

“OK, fine, you’re a dedicated DILF, I get it,” she sulked, oblivious to the pianist’s visible cringe at her use of the traumatizing term. “I can respect that ya ain’t got time to knock ma socks off this instant. But ain’tcha even gonna try to offer me a rain check?!”

“I – I er…” Phoenix gulped as he discreetly inched his way to the front, and felt himself beginning to sweatdrop as he frantically groped for a way out of this fresh hell. “Well, the thing is, we should take last night as a sign that er, certain things maybe just aren’t meant to be…”

“Are ya trying to tell me,” Tiffany’s eyes narrowed as she placed well-manicured hands on her shapely hips. “That now, that yer stone-cold sober and ain’t got the dang excuse of being drunker than a bessy bug, that yew don’t wanna get with this?”

He remained silent. The Southerner’s pitch then rose a few octaves and was now high with a combination of rage and disbelief.

“Yer seriously telling me ya don’t want me? What the ever-lovin’ titty-fuckin’ hell?  Was I right all along that day y’all came bra-shopping with your special fella after all?! Yer a total fruitcake, ain’tcha?!”

Phoenix sighed deeply and took a good long lingering look at his coworker, clad in such sheer, translucent, minuscule pieces of fabric, she may as well have been bare before him. Tiffany’s voluptuous, slender figure was like that of a lingerie model from Victoria’s Secret. Even free of makeup, her azure eyes, although lovely, were like the sea, calm and emotionless. His eyes were drawn to the golden river that gently caressed its way down her neck, reaching to just below her shoulder blades; long, blonde curls, so smooth and silky, almost as if tailored from gold fabric. He gazed upon her perfect, nearly naked form, her skin glistening with a sensual sweat from the overheated radiator heat of the apartment, with admiring, yet completely dispassionate eyes.

Tiffany Pearce was drop-dead gorgeous, tempting, alluring and even though he had completely tooted his own horn in her face, she nevertheless, for reasons he could not even fathom, still wanted a piece of his messed up emo headcase ass!

If the Gods are real, he told himself. Then this woman is their masterpiece. There isn’t a man alive with a pulse who wouldn’t give his eyeteeth to be standing where I am right now.

Yet he didn’t feel a damn thing. No stirring in his loins, fire in his blood, nor, most importantly, any increased pounding of his heart. There had only been one woman who had ever truly possessed the ability to have total reign over all three and having experienced that in his life, there was no way he could ever get involved with somebody else, knowing it was going to be mindless, soulless and meaningless, right out of the gate. He would only feel even more wretched and empty than he already did.

“I – I’m genuinely sorry, Tiffany. You’re a saint to have taken care of me last night when I was such a wreck but you deserve more than to be somebody’s meaningless distraction.” Phoenix shook his head regretfully and forced himself to meet her indignant eyes. “B-But I can’t. I just can’t. I swear to God it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’! Tell me something right now, Phoenix Wright.” Her voice trembled with rage. “And quit goin’ around your ass to get to your elbow! Is this because ya do have a girlfriend? Yer little ‘not tonight’ comment wasn’t just yew being playfully naughty?”

“It’s…um… Complicated …” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ignore the enraged glare his rehashing of the old line from over six years ago earned him. “Look Tiffany, any guy in this world would be lucky to have you. I am still a man, and I fully confess that I think you’re drop-dead beautiful. But the truth of the matter is, I have a particular soft spot for raven-haired brunettes.”

“Yew low-down, no-good piece of Yankee slime!” Tiffany hollered, storming up to him, reaching for the knob, and flinging the door open. “Yew kissed me, and yew do have a gal pal?! And ya still went full steam ahead last night, knowing darn tootin’ I ain’t the kind of floozy to mow another gal’s lawn?! Yer lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut! Yew can kiss my go-to-hell! Git outta ma sight!”

The waitress’s southern twang magnified tenfold when she was enraged. The steam was practically coming out of her ears now, for which the poker champ felt unequivocally awful.

“Tiffany, I –”

“Git the hell outta my house before I jerk ya bald!” She all but shoved him out the door. “Go back to yer poor, unsuspecting gal pal! If she can stomach the doggone stench of yer stank ass, she can have yew!”

A very sorrowful but terrified Phoenix was only too happy to oblige, barely making it out of the apartment before the door behind him slammed so hard, he was sure the walls shook.

Yet another woman who now hates my guts. He dragged a hand down his mug. You would think I’d be getting used to this by now…

Phoenix Wright Trucy Wright
Wright Talent Agency
December 25, 2025, 10:00 AM

Trucy sat rigidly in front of the computer, staring unseeingly at the monitor while she attempted to distract herself by surfing the Internet, but it was an exercise in futility. All she could do was stare at the clock, and think to herself that if her father didn’t walk through that door within two hours, she was going to have to take Uncle Gumshoe up on his offer. They’d actually need to put an APB out on her Daddy to find out if he was dead or alive! The idea of losing yet another parent was beyond devastating and the poor magician buried her head in her hands as hot tears stung her eyes.

Dear Lord, she prayed. I’ve not asked you for a whole lot in my life, but please, please let my father come home, alive and well. He’s a good guy and a great Daddy! I love him and need him so much! He’s all I’ve got in this world…

Just then, she heard the quiet jingle of keys and Trucy realized that Christmas miracles did exist as her thankful, teary gaze fell upon the face of her exhausted-looking but completely alive father as he ambled in the front door.

“Daddy!” Trucy cried, rushing up to Phoenix and nearly tackling him with the vigor of her embrace as she threw her arms around him, her tears of relief soaking his shirt. “Oh Daddy, thank God, you’re OK!”

“Forgive me, baby girl.” He held her tightly in his arms, feeling sickened with guilt at how distraught she must have been. “I did a little bit too much celebrating last night and unexpectedly crashed at a coworker’s place. I swear it was unplanned! I didn’t realize I hadn’t charged my phone and it was utterly dead, which is why I didn’t call. And then, all the buses are on a holiday schedule, so it took forever to get home. Truce, I’m so, so sorry…”

“It doesn’t matter,” the teen sniffled and wiped her eyes, and his heart ached that for the second time in less than 24 hours, his daughter had shed tears on his account. She forced herself to smile. “You’re safe and home now, and nothing else matters.”

The anterior defense attorney swallowed the lump in his throat and kissed the top of her head. Trucy was too good for him. He didn’t deserve her. For some reason, this little angel, his light, loved him enough for both of them. Because Phoenix did not love himself at all anymore. In fact, that morning, he realized that he had reached the pinnacle of self-loathing.

“I love you, Truce. You’re right, I’m home now, and I’m not going anywhere. All I want to do is spend Christmas with my daughter.”

“I love you, too. I’m so happy you’re OK! I can give you your present now!” Trucy’s eyes lit up, even as she gave her father a critical once over. “I think you need it now more than ever! You don’t look so good, Daddy. You’re giving Uncle Gumshoe a run for his money in the scruffy department!”

Despite his bleak mood, the erstwhile attorney threw his head back and laughed loudly at her candid observation, then self-consciously ran a hand over the stubble on his chin.

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled, walking over to the hall closet where the extra coats were stored. He reached up to the top shelf for the gift he had hidden there as Trucy raced back downstairs from retrieving his Christmas present.

“I hope you like this, baby girl.” He handed the large box to her. “I’ve had to drink generic brand grape juice the past few months to save up for it!”

“I would like anything you gave me, Daddy!” Trucy tore eagerly into the box. “But I know money’s tight; you didn’t have to buy me anything!”

Pulling out the brand-new, blue silk magician’s hat, the teen squealed with delight.

“But I’m so happy you did!” She lunged at him with another crushing hug. “Thank you so much! I needed this so badly! My old one was ruined beyond repair when I got into a fight with Drew Peacock but I thought I was going to have to wait after Christmas for all the Boxing Day specials to get another one!”

“Let this be your incentive then to use your words and not your fists in the future.” He grinned at her enthusiasm, then cracked up as his daughter placed the hat on her head and began to make ridiculous, goofy faces.

“I’m serious, Daddy! This is the infamous duck face all the girls do when they take selfies for their social media pages because they think it makes them look sexy or something!”

“My least favorite waterfowl!” He was still chuckling as he shook his head, then pointed to his parcel. “My turn?”

“I hope you like it!”

He couldn’t help but smirk when he opened the shaving set. His daughter truly was a subtle as a Mack truck!

“I knew it would be the perfect gift!” Trucy crossed her arms and gave him a mock stern expression. “But after this morning, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have bought you a portable cell phone charger or backup battery instead!”

“I swear Truce, I will never be so irresponsible again,” he promised, leaning over and rumpling her hair. “From this day forward, your Daddy only drinks grape juice! And if I ever go back to my word, you have my full permission to club me over the head with the bottle!”

“I don’t know if my nostrils could handle you drinking anything more than grape juice again!” Trucy wrinkled her pert button nose. “Yuck! You smell like a brewery, Daddy! Off to the shower with you! And there’s no time better than the present to make use of your new present!”

“Thanks for the candor, kiddo!” Phoenix chuckled ruefully and turned to head upstairs. “I won’t be too long but you’re right, a nice hot shower is just what I need right now.”

“You go do that,” Trucy instructed. “I’m going to go make us a nice Christmas breakfast.”

She smiled innocently.

“I get the feeling that you would probably appreciate something greasy right about now. How do you feel about bacon and eggs?”

Fuck me running backward with a chainsaw! Is there anything more embarrassing and undignified than having your teenage daughter make it crystal clear that she knows you’re hungover? Phoenix wondered as he headed to his room. I mean, it’s at least got to be right up there with ripping ass right into the face of your obscenely hot coworker? And then having her not once but now twice accuse you of being light in the loafers – otherwise known as being gayer than eight guys sucking nine guys’ dicks!

Not that it mattered what Tiffany thought of him in the grand scheme of things. Nothing mattered to him anymore. He had put all his efforts into the one thing that had mattered and discovered yesterday that the sacrifice had been completely worthwhile.

His ex-girlfriend’s engagement was proof that, at all costs, he had been successful in his endeavors.

Phoenix flopped down on his bed, and reached for the bottom drawer of his night table, carefully pulling out the folded newspaper page he’d hidden in there. With delicate precision, so as not to wrinkle it too much, he lightly traced his finger over every inch of that flawless face in the photo.

Time looked like it’d been good to his ever-ageless former lover. She barely looked any older than she had when he had first set eyes on her a decade ago. Like a fine wine, she had only improved with age.

As for himself…well, a quick look in the mirror indicated that Tiffany had not been kidding when she said he looked like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet. Whereas his ex was destined to look forever young, he knew he looked old, destitute, and haggard… And at least a good decade older than he was. It was just as well she wasn’t around to see how badly he’d deteriorated since he’d seen her last.

The former defense attorney’s doleful gaze ran over every detail of that ethereal visage, as though trying to commit it to memory. He honestly thought that Maya had never looked more beautiful. This pretty boy of hers was one lucky son of a bitch.

Soon, the Master of Kurain would be a radiant bride and just like her engagement, it would be a news event that everybody worldwide would be made aware of.

“It was all worth it, in the end,” Phoenix whispered aloud, raising his stinging eyes upward towards the heavens. “I kept my promise to you, Chief. Maya’s safe now.”

Bon Jovi – Dead Or Alive