by Ella Frank
“I have work to do,” she said with a waggle of her fingers, and Logan narrowed his eyes on her.
“Fine, but we’re not done here.”
“I’d be disappointed if we were,” she said, and then walked into his office with his briefcase and the mail from yesterday.
With a smile on his face, he headed down the hall to find Cole, and when he got to the shut door of his office, Logan knocked twice and stuck his head inside. “Ready, slacker?”
Cole glanced up from his computer, and when he spotted him, he nodded. “Good morning to you, too.”
“What? No comment about my being late? Damn, I need to take advantage of this.”
As Cole got to his feet, he buttoned his suit jacket. “I figure you deserve a week’s reprieve for good behavior.”
“Ahh, I see. In other words, your hot wife can’t keep her hands off you since you told her about the fantastic settlement I reached for the firm, and you not giving me hell is your way of saying thank you.”
Cole picked up his binder and walked across the office to him. “I assure you, I do not need your help getting laid.”
“Yes, but telling her the firm won seven mil didn’t hurt, right?” Cole shoved him in the arm as they both stepped out into the hallway. “At least tell me you used protection. Two rugrats under five is enough already, don’t you think?”
“What I think,” Cole said, “is that you’re ridiculous.”
As they reached the door to the conference room, Logan put his palm on the handle and stopped. “I’m right, though, aren’t I? The seven million didn’t hurt.”
Cole chuckled. “No. It certainly didn’t hurt. What about you?”
Logan pushed down on the handle. “Oh, don’t worry, Tate can’t get pregnant. We don’t need to use protection.”
He laughed as Cole rolled his eyes, and then the two of them stepped into the full conference room.
Over the last three years Logan and Cole had hired on a couple of new attorneys, and under Cole’s careful guidance, their family law team was one of the most sought after in the city, and with Logan winning this pharmaceutical case and focusing on the corporate and commercial side of things, they both knew the firm was set to explode with new business, which meant it was time to do some major hiring.
It was also time to talk to Tate and Rachel about an idea they’d been sitting on for the last few months, something they’d both agreed they would bring up at their family dinner this Sunday now that the Berivax case was over. For now, though, it was time to go over where they were this month.
“Good morning, everyone,” Logan said as he walked to the front of the room and tossed the manila folder on the table.
Everyone in attendance gave him a round of applause before Cole laughed and raised a hand. “Okay, okay. That’s enough. Let’s not give him another reason to think he’s better than the rest of us.”
A chorus of laughs rang out as Logan took a sip of his coffee then placed his mug on the table and rubbed his hands together. “As you already know, Mitchell & Madison had an extremely good day on Wednesday, which means things are likely to get a little crazy around here. We expect business will pick up tenfold when word spreads. That means there are going to be some changes happening in the next few days, weeks, and months.”
As excited chatter started up around the room, Logan slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked to Cole to continue speaking.
“First off,” Cole said, “we expect all hands to be on deck. We want to keep our clients happy so if, and when, new potential clients ask around about us, they hear nothing but glowing reports. That means if your client calls, big or small, you answer your phone. If they want to know where you’re at with their case, you give them a detailed breakdown. And if they merely call to ask what they should eat for dinner that night, you give them at least three choices. Got it?”
As everyone nodded, Logan flipped open the folder he had on the table and looked at the packets Sherry had printed out for him. They were the résumés of several first-year associates that he and Cole had decided it was time they took a look at. This way they could groom them over the next few years and end up with some really fantastic lawyers in the company.
They’d narrowed the pool down to four, and it was time to get them in for an interview to see if any were what they were looking for in person.
“Angela,” Logan said, addressing the brunette two seats up from where he was standing. She was one of the family law attorneys who’d been with them for two years now. “We’d like you to give these four a call and set up interviews with them. Cole and I picked who we like on paper, and now we want you to tell us who we should see in person.”
“No problem.” She took the folder from him and placed it in her leather binder.
“Good,” Cole said. “Okay, so, those of you who need to be elsewhere, you’re free to go right now. But as for the rest of you, let’s go over current cases that are open, this month’s billable hours, and the end-of-year functions taking place that you are strongly urged to attend.”
As a chorus of groans filled the air, those who needed to get to court or on the phone exited the conference room, and as others took their seats and flipped open their notepads and laptops, there was a knock on the door, and Logan looked over to see Sherry.
“Your nine o’clock is here.”
Logan’s eyes moved to the clock on the wall, and he grabbed his mug and said to Cole, “You got this? I’ve got a meeting.”
Cole nodded. “I think we’ll manage. We still on for Sunday?”
“Of course. We’re bringing the meat.”
Cole looked unsure as to whether he was serious or not, and then Logan clapped him on the back and said, “Your wife told us to bring steaks for grilling.”
“Ahh. Gotcha. Go on then, get out of here. I’ve got this. But I’ll be leaving at two. Lila’s got a doctor’s appointment.”
“Give those two gorgeous girls of yours a kiss for me. And tell Thomas I want my Hot Wheels back this weekend.”
“Good luck with that. He takes those things everywhere.”
Logan chuckled, thinking of his nephew’s face last Sunday when he’d brought his vintage collection of cars over to Cole and Rachel’s. “Then maybe he’ll let me play with them.”
“Maybe. If you’re nice.”
“We’ll be there around one,” Logan said, and with a final wave, he was out the door and heading down the hallway to his office.
Sherry was back behind her desk at work, and as he walked past her, he said, “Can you hold my calls until I’m finished in here?”
“Of course.”
“Except for—”
“I know,” Sherry said with a soft smile as she went back to typing.
It was a given that if Tate called he was to be put through immediately. But Logan always made sure to clarify, especially after Tate’s accident when they’d first started dating. He always made sure to be near a phone, and was always mindful of having his cell charged. There was no way he’d ever miss an important call again.
And speaking of things from years ago… Logan opened his office door, and when his nine o’clock appointment turned in the seat, Logan still couldn’t believe the man staring back at him was Robbie.
With the platinum gone, Robbie’s hair was now a chestnut color with caramel highlights threaded through the long strands, and the short cut to the sides enhanced a face Logan remembered, but was shocked to find had matured over the years. Robbie was an attractive guy, and this new look he was sporting suited his twenty—shit, how old is he now? Twenty-nine? Yes—twenty-nine-year-old self.
The eyes focused on Logan narrowed, and when Robbie stood as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be there, Logan shut the door.
“Mr. Bianchi. So nice to see you again.” Logan crossed his office floor, and when he stopped opposite Robbie, he lowered his eyes and fidgeted with his hands.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
The almost shy response was so unlike the man Logan remembered that he couldn’t help but poke a little. He held his hand out, and when Robbie’s head snapped up and he blinked several times, Logan felt a sliver of unease race up his spine.
Something was off there. Just as it had been the other day when they’d scheduled the meeting. This wasn’t the outgoing Robbie he remembered. Instead, he appeared timid and skittish. Scared of Logan, and his own shadow.
When Robbie seemed to realize that Logan posed no threat, he reached out and shook his hand, and, trying to ease the tension in the room, Logan threw a joke out there.
“I promise I don’t bite,” Logan said, but then he remembered Tate’s shoulder from last night and added, “strangers.”
Robbie didn’t so much as smile as he withdrew his hand and once again looked away.
What in the world is going on with him? Logan thought, as he slipped his hand into his pocket and really checked out Robbie.
In his black pants and polo shirt, the only thing that hinted of the loud personality Robbie once had were the red polka dots splattered all over the polo. It was almost unbelievable that the withdrawn stranger standing in front of Logan was the same guy who’d once come home with him and—
“I’m sorry if this is inappropriate. Me, coming here to your office.”
Robbie spoke softly, but it had Logan snapping out of his walk down memory lane long enough to say, “No, it’s fine. You just look…” As Logan searched for the right word, Robbie stared back at him with wide eyes, as though he had no clue he appeared so completely…changed. “Different. You look different.”
Robbie chewed on the corner of his lip and again lowered his eyes, and Logan suddenly found that he hated that. He hated that Robbie appeared intimidated by him. But what could he do? It wasn’t like he knew Robbie well. Hell, he hadn’t seen him in years. So, it was probably just best he stuck to what he did know—his job. After all, that was what he was there for.
“Okay then, Robbie. How about you take a seat here,” Logan said, gesturing to the chair Robbie had been occupying. “And we can talk a little bit about your cousin.”
“Robert,” Robbie corrected, and then took a seat as Logan headed around his desk and sat in his leather chair. “I go by Robert now, and yeah…uhh, okay. Vanessa. She’s in trouble. A lot of it. And I’m not sure we can even afford—”
“Robbie—sorry, Robert,” Logan said, his eyes trained on the man who was twisting one of his hands around his other one. “Don’t worry about money right now. Just tell me what’s going on and I’ll tell you my thoughts.”
Robbie grimaced but nodded. “Okay. She was arrested Wednesday night, around an hour before I showed up here. The police had a search warrant for my nonna’s house because of Vanessa’s brother, Jared. They’d been trailing him for months.”
“Why?”
Robbie rubbed his hands over his face as though he were tired, and then aimed his eyes straight at Logan. “Drugs. Cocaine.”
Logan winced. “Using or selling?”
“Both. They were after Jared, but he disappeared. Vanessa knew about his drugs in the house—she’d told him over and over to clean his act up and get that shit out of there, but he wouldn’t listen, and when the police showed up, she didn’t want Nonna to get in trouble, so she went to Jared’s room and was trying to hide them.”
Shit, that wouldn’t look good to the police. And Logan had a feeling what was coming next.
“When the police got to her, she was holding the drugs and looking guilty as hell. They arrested her immediately and charged her for possession with intent to distribute.”
Yeah… This wasn’t good at all. But depending on her age, maybe… “How old is Vanessa?”
“Seventeen.”
“Damn it,” Logan said, and Robbie flinched.
“It’s not good, is it?”
“No. It’s not.” Logan picked up his pen, scrawled the facts down on his notepad, and then let out a breath. He wasn’t about to sugarcoat shit, even with Robbie acting the way he was. His cousin was in a whole lot of trouble, but until Logan spoke to her and listened to her side of things, there was no way he could ascertain whether they had a fighting chance.
On paper it looked bad, really fucking bad, but if she really was innocent, then maybe he could get the prosecutor down to a lighter sentence. At least he hoped so, because the alternative if this went to trial and she was found guilty was years—and a lot of them. “I assume bail was posted and paid for?”
Robbie nodded.
“Okay, so she’s at home right now?”
“Yes. The judge set the hearing for Thursday morning. But the lawyer they appointed was…” Logan waited in the silence of the office as Robbie tried to find his words, and then he shrugged and said, “He wasn’t you.”
Robbie continued, “You always said you were the best. I thought if anyone could help her, it would be you. But…” Robbie looked around the elegant office. The wide wall of floor-to-ceiling windows behind Logan, the bookcases with law books lining one side of his office, and the leather couch on the other, and then his eyes came back to Logan’s. “I’m not sure we can afford you.”
Logan tossed his pen on the notepad and got to his feet. As he walked around his desk and came to a stop in front of it, he leaned his ass back against the wood and looked down at Robbie. “Don’t worry about the money. I want to meet with her. Can you get her down here at the same time on Monday morning?”
Robbie nodded. “Yes. I can do that.”
“Okay. Let’s start there.” Logan crossed his arms as he continued to study Robbie, and noticed the dark lines under his eyes. “Are you…okay?”
Robbie let out a breath and stood, and once again Logan found himself baffled by the man in front of him.
“I will be, now that I know you’re going to help.”
“I’m going to listen,” Logan corrected. “And then we’ll see.”
“Vanessa’s a good girl. She doesn’t deserve this. Any of it.”
“Then it’s good she’s got you looking out for her, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
Logan pushed off the desk and put his hand out for Robbie to shake once more, and this time when he took it, Logan tightened his fingers. When Robbie looked at him with a question in his eye, Logan asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just a bit stressed. That’s all.”
Logan didn’t believe for a second that that was all that was going on. But if Robbie didn’t want to talk, who was he to force him? Then he had an idea, and before he knew he was going to, Logan said, “Ever heard of The Popped Cherry?”
“I have. Been in there a couple of times.”
Obviously when Tate and I haven’t been there, Logan thought. “Why don’t you stop by tonight?” When Robbie frowned, Logan said, “Tate owns the place. Well, technically we both do, but he runs it.”
“Tate? That guy with the curly hair?”
Logan chuckled. “Yes. One and the same.”
Robbie looked like he wanted to say more. But then he shook his head. “I don’t know…”
“Really, you should stop by. We’ll both be down there. I think Tate would get a kick out of seeing the, ahh, new, well, you.”
Robbie appeared to think it over some more, and again Logan got the feeling something else other than his cousin was bothering him. There was a time when Robbie would’ve jumped at the chance to hang out with the two of them. In fact, he’d begged them both on several occasions.
“I’ll see,” Robbie said.
“Okay… If you decide to come, you know where we’ll be.” When Robbie merely nodded, Logan decided it was time to move on. “Sherry will call you later today to confirm the Monday meeting. So give her your cousin’s details and we’ll get right on this and see where we can go from here.”
“Thanks again, Logan.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not sure there’s much I can do.”
“I
t’s the thought that counts.”
“Then come see us tonight and you can buy me a drink.”
“Yeah, uhh, maybe.” The noncommittal smile Robbie gave told Logan he wouldn’t be seeing him later that night, and while that would’ve once pleased him, it now…troubled him.
“Fair enough,” Logan said, knowing it wasn’t his place to push for anything more. “I’ll see you later then, Robert.”
Robbie’s cheeks flushed at his full name being said, and as Mr. Bianchi left the office, Logan could almost picture the infatuated barista he’d once known and realized he kind of missed him.
Chapter Six
“WHAT CAN I get you tonight?” Tate asked, stepping up to the counter, where a blond man in a business suit was standing with his back to him, facing the Friday night crowd. It was nearing the end of happy hour at The Popped Cherry, and the place was wall to wall busy with the steady stream of customers that the beginning of the weekend always commanded.
The man turned at the sound of Tate’s voice, and when his face came into view, so did a wide, friendly smile.
“Morrison? Tate Morrison?”
Tate catalogued the brown eyes, the crooked broken nose, and the wide shoulders of the ex-quarterback and realized he was staring at his sister’s high school sweetheart.
“Scott Thompson. Well, this is a surprise. How you doing, man?” Tate said as he placed a black napkin with the bar’s red and white insignia of two cherries and the name on the counter.
“Good. Good. Shit, man, how long’s it been since I’ve seen you?”
Tate braced his hands on the counter and grinned, thinking back. “Hmm. At least ten…eleven years, right?”
Scott ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah, at least. I was still dating your sister, and you were with Diana. Man.” Scott laughed. “That girl was all about you when we were in school. Constantly mooning over Jill’s older brother. Then I heard she up and married you.”
Oh hell, Tate thought, as the image of his ex-wife popped into his head. And while he and Diana had settled their divorce on amicable terms years ago, it still made him uncomfortable to think about. All of that anger and all of the hurt that had come from that time in their lives had reached an explosive end when they’d gotten one helluva wake-up call in the form of him lying in a coma in the hospital.