by Chloe Maddox
“I might, you never know,” I grumbled as we shifted, so that we were standing off to the side out of sight of the customers.
“What happened? Did fancy suit give you a problem?”
I snickered. “It’s nice to see that I’m not the only one who gave him that nickname. He’s not giving me a harder time than usual.”
“Did he try anything inappropriate?” Ruth asked, her eyes blazing with righteous fury.
“Whoa, hey relax mother Teresa. He didn’t try anything. Just the long suggestive looks, you know. The usual.” I placed my hand on her shoulder to calm her down. I could feel the tension radiating off of her in waves, and she relaxed ever so slightly when I touched her.
“What’s a guy that fancy doing here anyways?” Ruth slide her gaze towards him, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Dougal’s isn’t the type of place his type would go sniffing around.”
I lifted my shoulders up then let them fall down again. “I have no idea, Ru, but I think it has something to do with Mr. Garcia.”
Ruth’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“He was asking about him, and I know he was trying to downplay it, but he sure did seem interested.”
“You’re saying he wants to make the moves on Mr. Garcia?” Ruth’s expression turned to one of merriment. “Well, I’ll be damned. He didn’t strike me as the type, but hey they come in all shapes and sizes nowadays.”
“How could he be when he was checking me out?” I pointed out.
Ruth opened her mouth then closed it again. “Maybe he’s one of those folks that like both?”
“You mean bi?”
“It’s possible.” Ruth grinned. “Care to wager on it?”
Discreetly, I lifted my arm up, pretended to stretch and snuck a glance at our mystery man who was looking extremely uncomfortable as he waited for his food. He was playing with the salt and pepper shakers, twirling them round and round till they stopped then he’d stare at the wall and repeat.
He had nice broad shoulders, and firm looking hands.
I hadn’t realized I said that out loud until Ruth began to chuckle next to me. “Honey, you’re attracted to him. Oh, boy. Well, he is easy on the eyes, but you be careful around him, okay?”
The tips of my ears turned pink as my entire face flushed. “I didn’t say anything, Ru. He’s not my type because he’s kind of a pig, but also even if those two things weren’t true, I doubt I’m his type.”
“Now, how do you know what his type is?” Ruth asked, her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised.
“Look at his appearance, Ru. It screams money. He probably likes those women who bathe in diamonds or something, I don’t know.”
Ruth scoffed. “There’s no such thing first of all. Second, don’t sell yourself short.”
I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyways because he was checking me out, remember? And that’s weird.”
“I guess so, darlin’.” Ruth looked skeptical as she tossed another look his way. Fancy suit swiveled his head all of a sudden, so that his gaze collided with Ruth’s. She gave him a professional smile which he returned as he awkwardly looked away.
“He’s going to know we were talking about him,” I said, my voice ringing with mortification.
“Nah, and even if he does, I have a feeling he’s pleased about it. Look at the smirk on that boy’s face.”
Sure enough, there it was.
The slight curve of his sensual lips.
Damn, I really needed to stop thinking about him in sexual terms. It was starting to affect my judgement, and I didn’t want that.
I was not driven by hormones.
No matter how good looking the man was.
I was in charge here.
The bell rang to signal that fancy suit’s order was ready, and I turned my back on him as I picked it up. I really hoped my face wasn’t red anymore otherwise he’d be able to tell, and that would be embarrassing. I set aside his beer, worked my magic to make it into a radler as per his request then I picked everything up, placed it on a tray and walked over to his table.
I carefully placed everything on the table, and he watched me quietly, an amused smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
“Can I get you anything else?” I said, in my practiced voice.
He shook his head and began to enthusiastically dig into his wings. I quietly made my way back, and then the strangest thing happened. Once he was done with his food, he picked up his beer and walked over to Mr. Garcia.
Ruth straightened. “Here we go. Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting.”
“Mr. Garcia,” the man called out, loudly as he stopped at his booth and gave him a charming smile. “I’m a huge fan. May if I join you?”
Mr. Garcia was slightly befuddled as to why this well-dressed man was even speaking to him. I was guessing men like him weren’t the usual clientele, but stranger things had definitely happened.
“Sure.” Mr. Garcia gestured to the seat in front of him as the sauce dripped down his mouth. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the grease after he couldn’t find a napkin. Hurriedly, Ruth placed a packet of napkins on his table and slipped away undetected.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they wondered what was happening.
This wasn’t a casual meeting, nor did this man seem like the sort to fawn all over a local celebrity.
No, my instincts were telling me that something else was up.
I just couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
The fancy stranger smiled easily and held out his hand. “I’m Mr. Coldwell, Alex Coldwell.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Coldwell. I’m Frank Garcia.” Mr. Garcia vigorously shook his hand, a large beam on his face. “Well, this is an unexpected surprise. It’s always a pleasure to run into one of my fans. I must say, I was surprise you are a fan. You did not strike me as the sort.”
Alex Coldwell.
That sounded like a strong powerful name.
It suited him.
Alex leaned back against the booth with one hand on either side. “I am. I’ve been reading about how your family business started.”
Mr. Garcia smiled in embarrassment. “We just work, that’s all there is to it. I think that with passion and dedication, a lot of doors can open up.”
Alex leaned forward casually and placed his hands in his arms. “I completely agree, Mr. Garcia.”
“Please call me Frank,” Mr. Garcia insisted. “Can I get you something to eat or drink Mr. Coldwell?”
Alex smiled modestly. “I wouldn’t mind some nachos.”
Mr. Garcia laughed and smacked the table in front of him. “A fancy man with an appetite. I see you aren’t afraid to get your suit dirty.”
“You have no idea,” Alex agreed wholeheartedly as his eyes glinted.
***
“I almost wish I had bet against you,” I whispered to Ruth as I watched them down their third glass of beer. Mr. Garcia was already starting to get tipsy, and his voice was carrying over to the entire pub.
Not that we had a lot of customers, just two or three other low key customers, but he was attracting a lot of attention.
The same couldn’t be said of Alex. Not only was he able to hold his liquor, but he also kept egging Mr. Garcia on. As if he hoped to gain something by getting him to drink that much.
I caught sight of his expression, and it was calculating and shrewd.
Dread settled into my stomach, and I had no idea.
I didn’t think that Alex would actually commit a crime, or something like that, but it was clear he was up to something, and if it was something that required the other person to be tipsy then it can’t be anything good.
Still, I was going to hold off on calling the police.
Until I knew for sure what he was up to, otherwise I just looked like the boy who cried wolf.
“So, Mr. Garcia, do you think people like working for you?” Alex asked, casually as he roll
ed up his sleeves showing off his muscular forearms in the process. He had tattoos on either side of his arms, but I couldn’t make out what they were.
Mr. Garcia fixed bleary eyes on Alex and squinted. “I think so. I try to treat my employees fairly, and I think that offering them a safe environment is important too.”
Alex nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “And how’s that going for you?”
“I think it’s going well.”
“You have a woman called Lexia Evans who works for you, right?”
Mr. Garcia froze, like a deer caught in the headlights as his face paled. “Why are you asking? How did you know her name? Who are you?”
Alex shrugged. “Right now, I’m nobody of consequence, but I could be somebody vital soon.”
“What do—” Mr. Garcia hiccoughed. “What do you mean?”
“Mr. Garcia, I’m an attorney, and I work for Montgomery & Williams. This morning, a woman walked in and filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against you. That woman’s name is Lexa Evans.”
Mr. Garcia blinked and sat back in his chair, a stunned expression on his face. “But I…I didn’t do anything.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to need to be more convincing than that if you want to get away with lying in court.”
Mr. Garcia’s face turned red. “I’m not lying. What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know if you have an attorney already—”
“I do.”
“I’m really good at what I do, Mr. Garcia. I want to represent you,” Alex continued as if Mr. Garcia hadn’t spoken. “Now, if I were you I’d think about this very carefully.”
“How did you know where to find me?” Mr. Garcia’s mouth was gaping like a flounder.
“It’s not hard, Mr. Garcia. You are a creature of habit,” Alex informed him, his eyes flickering over the place before they settled back on Mr. Garcia.
Ruth, the rest of the staff, and I quietly watched from where we were, eager to see what was about to happen next. I, myself, couldn’t fathom the prospect of Mr. Garcia being a sexual predator. He didn’t seem the sort at all, and he’d never done anything to suggest otherwise.
Then again, it was always the ones you didn’t expect.
It was the quiet ones you had to watch out for.
“I don’t think you want to risk bad counsel, Mr. Garcia. You have a lot to lose. Your chain of restaurants is lucrative right now, but if word of this gets out, you won’t be able to recover, and do you really want to push your luck?”
Chapter 2
Mr. Garcia frowned, but said nothing.
I wasn’t sure if this was because he didn’t like what was being said, or because he didn’t like being approached like this. He was ill prepared, and clearly he was just out on the town for a peaceful night.
Not so he could be accosted by some greasy lawyer.
I was suddenly angry on Mr. Garcia’s behalf, and I didn’t think he did it either. I wanted to march over there, and toss Alex Coldwell out onto the street, but I also knew that might make matters worse.
It was not my place to get involved in personal matters. As long as the argument didn’t result in a physical altercation, and or damage to our property then I was supposed to keep my head down, and my nose out of it.
Not always an easy task, but one we endeavored to uphold nonetheless.
“You need to control the narrative, Mr. Garcia. I can spin this story, and make it seem like you’re the victim here, but I need your full cooperation,” Alex pressed.
God, this man was like a shark who smelled blood.
He really was going in for the kill.
Unfortunately for him, in the short time since I’d known Mr. Garcia, there was one thing I knew with utmost certainty.
Mr. Garcia was as stubborn as they came with the tenacity of a bull.
I almost pitied Alex.
Just barely.
“Do you make it a habit to harass your prospective clients in a place where they go out?’ Mr. Garcia asked, his voice deadly quiet, his easy countenance suddenly replaced with something else.
Alex leaned back wearily. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting this response, and his expression wavered for a second as his mouth twitched.
“Of course not, Mr. Garcia. I simply wanted a chance–”
“To tell me that I would be screwed if I didn’t accept your help?” Mr. Garcia asked, sardonically. His voice was as hard as steel, and his eyes were hardly less forgiving. Those dark eyes that usually sparkled with merriment and laughter were now drawn shutters. Emotionless and bottomless in their depth.
Alex pressed his mouth into a thin line as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I apologize if I overstepped my bounds, but once I got the tip, I had to act on it.”
“Because you’re a young hot shot attorney who’s trying to make a name for himself? What are you, 28?” Mr. Garcia said it with such derisiveness that Alex shifted uncomfortably.
“I fail to see how my age bears any relevance here,” Alex said, his tone frosty.
Finally, he had recovered, and he was finally starting to understand that Mr. Garcia wasn’t a pushover.
“Of course, you wouldn’t. I sincerely doubt that your firm would be happy to hear about how you conduct business here.”
“Mr. Garcia I—”
“Silence,” Mr. Garcia bellowed. “I will not sit here and be mocked as if I was some toddler who needed guidance. I have been in this business for many years, Mr. Coldwell. It taught me a thing or two about people, and I don’t want an attorney who has his head up his ass.”
Ruth and I both clamped our mouths shut as the giggles threatened to escape. Our bodies shook with suppressed laughter as we watched Alex pale after that comment.
Obviously, he wasn’t expecting that either.
Frank Garcia had just roasted him.
Frank who was at least a decade older, and looked like an Italian stereotype, but owned it.
Yeah, this was definitely something I was glad I didn’t miss.
Alex abruptly stood up. “I’m a hard ass because I have to be, and believe me, it’s helped me win a lot of cases, and you’re the one who has a lot to lose here, Mr. Garcia, so when you’re more concerned about striking back rather than licking your wounds like some wounded puppy, give me a call.”
Mr. Garcia’s eyes went as wide as saucers.
“In the meantime, here’s my card if you change your mind.” Alex tossed his card onto the booth, took some money out of his wallet and slipped his jacket back on.
As he walked past us, I was sure that there would some sign of defeat on his face. He was supposed to look nonplussed, or something. However, it was the complete opposite.
He looked relaxed and confident.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Mr. Garcia staring at the card before he pocketed it, and quietly went back to his meal.
My eyes met Alex’s before he stepped outside, and he gave me a quick wink and a little salute. I stared at him, unsure of what to make of that until the door swung shut behind him, and the tension in the pub dissipated
Nervous chatter broke out across the pub as the volume rose to a crescendo. It seemed we weren’t the only ones who were listening with barely concealed interest. Not that they made an effort to hide their quarrel, but still.
A conversation of that magnitude was best conducted in private. Mr. Garcia was right about that least. Although I did admire the cutthroat way in which Alex pursued Mr. Garcia.
Mr. Garcia did have a point about approach though, so if he did end up hiring Alex, it certainly wouldn’t be for his table manners nor for his subtlety. In a case like this though, I was guessing that you needed a lion in your corner.
“Goodness, it’s not everyday we get that kind of excitement around here,” Ruth breathed as she mock fanned herself. “I thought for sure that a brawl would break out.”
“They’re both grown men, Ru. I doubt that would’ve happened even if Alex hadn’t
left.”
“Honey, men are almost always fueled by testosterone. If they feel like another man is challenging that, it turns into a dick waving contest.”
I choked back a laugh at her description. “What an interesting way to describe it.”
***
“Mama, I’m home,” I called out as I balanced a box of pizza and removed the key from the lock. Mr. Garcia felt so bad about the scene he’d caused that he tipped us generously, so we all split it equally.
I decided to treat myself and my mom to a box of take out pizza instead of figuring out what we were going to cook.
“Do I smell pizza?” My mother came out of the room, barefoot, and in a pair of capri jeans with the sleeves rolled up, a shirt that was two sizes too big, and hair that was sticking out on all ends.
“Yup, I got a generous tip today, so I figured I’d treat us.” I announced happily as I kicked the door shut with the back of my foot. The smell of pepperoni pizza invaded my nostrils and made my mouth water.
My mom threw her arms around me in a hug. “Honey, you’re always spoiling me.”
“If I can afford it, why not?” I asked, warmly as I struggled to keep the pizza upright and hug her back.
“In that case, the pizza’s all mine,” she said, cheekily as she swiped the pizza from my hand and tauntingly dangled it front of me.
“Now, mother,” I began. “Is it really good parenting if you let your kid starve?”
My mother raised an eyebrow as she leaned her hip against the counter. “Are you seriously going for that argument? You’re 22, and you can fend for yourself.”
I slipped off my shoes and kicked them away. “I am offended that you would say that. What happened to the fact that I’m your baby girl, and you would forever look out for me? What happened to offering me the clothes off your back, the food off your plate—”
“Whoa, hey, let’s not get crazy. I’ll give you the clothes off my back, but the food? I’m not negotiating when it comes to food.”
“You wound me, mother. Where is the love?”
“That’s easy. It’s right here. Directed towards this beautiful melted cheese and pepperoni pizza.” She flipped the box open and sighed deeply.