by Zuri Day
“Now that’s a connection easily recognized. Quinn’s a spoiled brat, too.”
“She’s also very beautiful and full of life. At the ball, I found her delightful.”
“I found her irritating, and my opinion of her has only plummeted from there.”
“Hmm, interesting.” She paused. “Well, dear, do see a doctor. Your father was in an accident once and refused medical treatment because he thought he was fine. It took five years for what was then a slight sprain to show up as pain in his lower back. Minor surgery was required to fix what could have been handled through a chiropractor if caught in time.”
“Definitely wouldn’t want that to happen. I’ll call him now. Bye, Mom.”
Ike left a message with his physician’s assistant and then called Niko. When he wasn’t in the mayor’s office, Ike tried his cell.
“What’s up, Ike?”
“A little situation I want to run past you. Tried your office phone. Where are you?”
“Temecula.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten all about your getaway with Monique. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No bother at all. In fact, your timing is perfect. Monique is at the spa, bonding with her cousin-in-law and sister-in-law.”
“Diamond and who else, Faye or Marissa?”
“Marissa.”
“Where’s Faye?”
“Working too hard, like most doctors.”
“It’s nice that your wife is spending quality time with that side of the family. How’s everybody else doing?”
Niko filled Ike in on the latest happenings with their Southern California cousins who owned and operated Drake Wines & Resort, an award-winning five-star resort in Southern California’s wine country.
“So we’re happy to let them have their pamper day,” Niko finished. “Because come tomorrow night it’s the husbands’ turn—me, Jackson, Donovan and floor seats at Staples.”
“Floor seats? Must have cost you a fortune.”
“Jackson has connections with a big-time sports agent, Michael Morgan. The tickets came from him.”
“Now that’s what I call a connection. Does he have an extra?”
“Afraid not.”
“Then thanks for letting me know about floor seats at a game I can’t attend.”
“You’re welcome.” The brothers laughed. “So why’d you call?”
“I was in an accident today and need some legal advice.”
“Are you okay?”
“Banged up, but I’ll live. The other driver was taken to the hospital for observation, but from the looks of everything she’ll be fine.”
“She?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Quinn Taylor.”
“Damn. Lucky you.”
“Right. Lucky me.”
“I didn’t mean that sarcastically. That is one gorgeous lady. Running into her might turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“I highly doubt that. And she ran into me.”
“What happened?” Ike told him. “If it’s a situation that’s clearly her fault, more than likely her insurance will cover the damages. So why do you need a lawyer?”
“One, because no matter how good her insurance, it will likely not cover the costs of replacing the parts that will have to be fixed. They are rare and expensive.”
“Aw, man! She wrecked the Ferrari.”
“Now you’re getting there, brother. Feel my pain.”
“I feel it. You just got that baby in mint condition.” Niko whistled. “You’re right. That bill is likely to run over and above what her policy covers.”
“Exactly. Which brings me to the second reason I need legal advice—to prosecute her for reckless endangerment.”
“I thought you said this was an accident.”
“One caused by her using our streets as a racetrack.”
“Yes, Ike, but accidents happen. Give it twenty-four to forty-eight hours before setting anything in motion. The situation is likely to look quite different once you stop aching and cool down.”
“I’m angry, Niko, not irrational, and will not change my mind. This accident was a direct result of her foolishness. Her beauty isn’t going to sway me from making her face the consequences. It’s time she learned a lesson on cause and effect.”
“I’d think you’d want to school her in some...less combative areas.”
“Not you, too. First it was the police wanting to go easy, then Mom wanting me to send flowers and now you’re suggesting I make a date with that daredevil? That would hardly be practical. She’s much too wild.”
“Which would make taming her all the more satisfying.”
“You’re suggesting that I court her when why I called you is to take her to court. So your unrequested yet respected personal opinion aside, legally, how do I proceed?”
Niko laughed. “All right, man. I hear you. But I can’t help you, not directly. My expertise is corporate law. You need an accident and personal injury attorney.”
“Do you know any?”
“Not offhand, but let me make a couple calls and get back with you. Meanwhile, follow Mom’s advice and send those flowers. It’s the right thing to do.”
Later, Niko referred Ike to an attorney who was not only well versed in the field but quick to act. Two days after the accident, attorney Lance Holden demanded the police report be completed and filed. The day after that, Quinn was charged with reckless driving. A week later, Lance represented Ike at an arraignment at which Quinn pled not guilty. Lance then suggested they avoid a trial by requesting a pretrial conference in the judge’s chambers. That was fine with Ike. His demand for repayment and appropriate punishment would be met. Victory was all but assured. According to Lance, the matter would be resolved shortly. The defense attorney had left court, heading to his office and a meeting with Quinn.
Chapter 4
Quinn sat and seethed. Was she really sitting in a lawyer’s office over a car accident? Seriously?
“Where is he?” She stared at the door as if it had an answer.
“I’m sure he’ll be here shortly, Kristin Quinn. Try and stay calm.”
On cue, the door opened. A harried-looking lawyer in a wrinkled suit charged into the room, carrying a bulging briefcase in one hand and a coffee mug in the other.
“Hello, ladies. Sorry to have kept you waiting. A case ran late.” He set the briefcase and travel mug on the desk, then extended his hand to Quinn. “I’m Joey Wang, the defense attorney who’ll be handling this case.”
Quinn’s handshake was as lackluster as her desire to be here.
He shook Maggie’s hand as well. As he walked behind his desk she said, “We hope you were able to do what the other attorney couldn’t.”
“I’m afraid that’s not why I called you here. The victim is adamant. He wants this matter to be handled in court.”
“I can’t stand that man! He’s such a jerk!” A hearty stiletto-heeled foot stomp was the exclamation point to her anger.
“Quinn, please.” Maggie reached over and patted Quinn’s hand. “Take a breath.”
Quinn did as instructed even as she gave the attorney an icy stare.
Maggie looked at the attorney. His bewildered face matched her own.
“I understand you being upset, Ms. Taylor. These types of cases are often settled out of court. But I assure you that this case will be handled with the utmost care, and in a way that makes this unfortunate situation as easy as possible. Which is why I brought you here.” He looked at Quinn. “It’s to recommend that you change your plea.”
“To guilty? No way.”
“Given the preponderance of evidence, which includes witness statements, a guilty plea can possibly assist
in resolving this matter quickly.”
“You’re asking me to plead guilty even though the accident wasn’t my fault,” Quinn insisted.
“What’s the difference?” Maggie asked.
“Guilty means that one admits responsibility, that they are at fault. When this happens, the sentence—or in this case whatever reprimand the judge would impose, since jail is unlikely—would be lighter than what a jury typically hands down. ‘No contest’ means that the defendant agrees to the facts presented but not to their guilt in what happened as a result.”
Quinn’s ears perked up. “Meaning I wouldn’t be liable for his car damage?”
“No, that is not what I mean. The eyewitness testimony and police investigation both point to you being at fault. His repairs will be your responsibility no matter how you plead. Then there is the matter of your driving history and the number of speeding tickets you’ve received in the past five years.”
Quinn’s shoulders slumped. There was no arguing with that truth.
“This will be classified as a misdemeanor. You’ll likely get off with a fine, some type of community service and a suspended license for no more than ninety days. If you slow down and go the next few years without additional tickets, you could approach the judge to have the charge expunged from your record.”
“Unacceptable,” Quinn said with her back ramrod straight. “Grandmother, can we talk about this privately, please?”
“What’s there to talk about, Quinn? You did hit the young man’s car.”
“Isn’t that what insurance is for?”
“I’m afraid these expenses are going to go beyond whatever policy you have,” Joey replied. “When fully restored and in pristine condition, cars like the one you hit sell for half a million bucks.”
Quinn huffed in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”
Maggie raised a hand to her chest. “Oh, good Lord.”
“The ’61 Ferrari is a prized classic. Few were made and most of those are in various states of disrepair. That makes the one you wrecked even more valuable, and leads to the final point.”
“There’s more?” Quinn asked.
Joey answered while opening his briefcase and pulling out a manila envelope. “The owner of the Ferrari has decided not to wait until after the trial to take additional action. He has filed suit against you, Quinn, to ensure the repairs will be handled.”
Quinn eyed her grandmother. “Sued me! Can you believe it? Should I still not be upset?”
Instead of answering the question, Maggie addressed the attorney. “Mister, um...”
“Wang, ma’am. But please, call me Joey.”
“Joey, thank you so much for all you’ve done. I’ll discuss this with my granddaughter and get back with you shortly.”
“As soon as possible, please. The victim and his attorney want this matter resolved in all due haste.”
They’d not taken two steps outside before Quinn started in. “Grandmother, please talk to Dad again. One phone call and this would go away! I don’t know why he’s being so stubborn!”
“One could say the same for you,” Maggie answered, with kind eyes.
“Me? Okay, maybe you’re right. Even though there was a very good reason for me to swerve, I did in fact hit the other car. So I’ll pay the fine and fix his stupid car. But community service? There’s no way. And with Trent coming to town next week, a suspended license is totally out of the question.”
Trent Corrigan was Quinn’s plus one when she needed one, a mood lifter with a great gift of gab. She called him Trench Coat. He called her Q-Tip. They’d been best friends since high school.
“I was talking about the strained relationship between you and your father, the animosity that’s been present since he remarried. That happened twelve years ago, honey, when you were thirteen. How long are you going to hold on to the anger of your youth?”
“I don’t see him making a move to repair things, either.”
They reached the car and got inside. Maggie turned toward Quinn, grasped her hands and squeezed softly. “Quinn, my dear. I love you so very much. The attitude you’re exhibiting is partly my fault. I shouldn’t have spoiled you, but those beautiful hazel-brown eyes would get me every time.
“Your father isn’t perfect. But there’s one thing I know for sure, and it’s that he loves you. Are there other ways he can show it besides the ones he’s tried? Certainly. But like you, honey, he’s doing the best he can.”
“Grandmother—”
“No, no need for a counterargument. You have to handle life on your own terms. As for spoiling you, I don’t regret a single one of the all too few days we shared when you were younger.” Maggie ran a hand along Quinn’s cheek. “You missed so much. Your mother gone and your dad always so busy with work.”
“Work and Viviana. Don’t leave her out.”
“And his wife, yes. I tried to fill the void in ways that may not have served you. There were too few rules and almost no consequences. All things considered, what the young man is asking is not beyond the pale.”
Quinn started the car and headed home, careful to observe the speed limit along the way.
“Is that why Dad is refusing to help me? To teach me another lesson?”
“I can’t answer that, dear. But regarding the pretrial conference, I agree with Joey. This matter will be settled through the court. There’s no getting out of that. Changing your plea seems the best thing to do.”
Quinn didn’t voice the reaction she felt. We’ll see.
They arrived home, but Quinn’s plans weren’t to stay long. She went upstairs and returned with her jacket.
“Going out again?”
“For a bit. While I still have a license.”
“Do be careful, darling.”
Quinn jumped into the rental Corvette she’d been given while her own was being repaired. She would have liked nothing more than to rev the V-6 engine and use major horsepower to take the car from zero to sixty in a little under four seconds flat. She resisted the temptation. Took her time to gain a cool head. Talking Ike Drake into standing down on his notion of justice would take all the charm and calm persuasion she possessed.
Halfway to Drake Realty, her cell phone rang. She tapped the phone icon on the steering wheel to answer the call from her lone PC friend, whom she’d met the first time on a visit at the age of twelve. “Hey, Peyton.”
“What are you doing?”
“Channeling the negotiator.”
“Huh?”
“Will explain later.”
“You’d better. Those words sound mysterious.”
“I’m handling part two of the mystery now, so when we meet I can share the whole story. Busy later?”
“Not really. Just text me where and I’ll head over.”
“Perfect.”
Quinn walked into Drake Realty with authority and confidence, having reminded herself that when it came to arguments, she won most of them.
“Good afternoon,” she said pleasantly to the receptionist seated in the lobby area. “I’m here to see Ike Drake.”
“Senior or Junior?”
“Junior,” Quinn answered, sure the virile man she encountered couldn’t have a grown son.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” The receptionist reached for the phone. “But I’d rather you not announce me. My visit won’t take long.”
“I’m sorry, but all visitors must be announced and cleared before they’re allowed past this lobby. One moment.”
“Then consider me a friend, or family member, I really don’t care. Just point me in the direction of Ike Drake’s office, now.”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but...”
Quinn’s anger, which had begun to cool on the drive over, start
ed simmering once again. If announced, she doubted Ike would agree to see her. Anyone who had the nerve to follow up a gift of flowers with a lawsuit was definitely not the kind of man who’d want to face her head-on. “Never mind. It’s obvious your job is to protect scoundrels. Some people will do anything for a paycheck. I’ll catch him later.”
Just as Quinn turned to go, one of two doors on either side of the receptionist’s desk opened. Ike.
Their eyes met. The room temperature seemed to rise by several degrees. Quinn was surprised to feel her heartbeat increase. Anger had never felt quite like this.
The receptionist glanced between the two, not sure of what was happening or, given the look that was being exchanged, what might occur. “Mr. Drake, would you like me to—”
“No,” he replied, with a hand out to silence the receptionist. He walked over and stood in front of Quinn. “I’m fine. Ms. Taylor, I assume you’re here to see me.”
Quinn walked forward until their faces were mere inches apart, her voice a whisper beneath her smile. “You know damned well why I’m here.” She fixed him with a look that melted most men.
Ike was ice. He gave a curt nod. “Let’s talk in my office.” Then to the receptionist, “Hold my calls.”
He reached the door and held it open for Quinn to enter. She did so, and even though highly frustrated admired the revered mahogany walls and marble-trimmed halls of the prestigious firm. Aware of the curious stares from the employees who passed them, she kept her eyes firmly on Ike’s back. Had they been daggers, he would have been punctured from back to front.
He’d barely looked at her. Acted like she was invisible. Quinn wasn’t used to being dismissed.
With a discipline honed through years of ballet training and mastering the violin, she kept her ire in check until he’d closed his office door. Then she threw charm school right out the window and exploded like a clobbered piñata at a child’s birthday party.
“How dare you sue me over a traffic accident.”
“If what took place was a mere traffic incident, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Look, we don’t have to do this. I’ll fix your car, no problem. If you’re worried that I won’t, draw up a contract or something for me to sign. We can’t take this to trial. They’ll suspend my license. I have too much to do. Let’s just drop it. Okay?”