Maverick

by Cruise, Anna

  “Excuse me?”

  Her mouth twitched, like she was fighting a frown. “Last night. I'm sorry I went off on you.”

  I held up my hand. “I was expecting a hello.”

  Her eyebrows raised about her sunglasses. “What?”

  “You know. When you see someone for the first time in the morning? You usually say hello. Not I'm sorry.” I smiled at her. I wanted her to know I was joking, trying to make light of what had happened. I just wanted to move on because not only did I not want her to be mad at me, I also didn't want her to be like a fucking robot.

  “Oh.” She paused and swallowed. “Okay. Hello.”

  “Hi.”

  “And I'm sorry.”

  I shook my head. “Fine. I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I put you in an uncomfortable spot with all the questions.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “And I'm sorry I kissed you. I was out of line.”

  I waited for the telltale blush to bloom on her cheeks. It did, right on cue.

  “I shouldn't have reacted the way I did,” she said, shifting her feet a little. “It was...uncalled for.”

  I studied her for a second. She looked uncomfortable, like this was the last thing she wanted to be talking about. I admired her, though, because she was doing it anyway.

  “Okay,” I said. “So now that we got the apologies out of the way, can we go back to what it was like before?”

  A smile played on her lips. “That would be nice.”

  I let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Good. Was hoping you'd say that.” I pushed the door open and motioned her inside. “This was good practice, you know.”

  She hesitated, then stepped into the house. “What was?”

  “The whole apology thing. Pretty sure you fought with me on purpose last night. You know, to get me ready for today.”

  She laughed then, a genuine laugh and I smiled.

  “No,” she said. “It wasn't planned. But if you think it helped, then that's good.” She paused, looked me up and down. “You're dressed up.”

  “Two days in a row now I've had to dress like an adult. Can't say I'm liking it all that much.”

  “It's good. It...sets the right tone.”

  I was disappointed that she was being so formal with me. I didn't want her to tell me it set the right tone. I wanted her to tell me I looked good. So I assumed it wouldn't be going back to exactly the way it was before after all.

  She glanced at her watch. “You ready?”

  I shoved my hands in pockets. “I guess. You'll tell me what to do on the drive?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Except you're driving.” She pulled my keys out of her own pocket and held them out to me.

  I took the keys. “Why?”

  “I think it looks better if we show up in your car, with you driving,” she explained. “Looks less like you're being dragged there.”

  That made sense. “Alright. And do I get to keep the keys now?”

  “Let's see how today goes,” she said.

  But she didn't smile when she said it and again, I was disappointed. There was a distance between us now and it didn't look it was going to be closing any time soon.

  We went into the garage, I hit the button on the wall and the door rose up. We both climbed into the black Land Rover.

  “I expected a sports car,” Gina said, pulling her seatbelt on. “Or a motorcycle.”

  “Motorcycles are death machines and a great way to end a career,” I said. “And I can't get my boards in a Ferrari.”

  She chuckled. “Good points all. We're heading to Newport.”

  I nodded. “You cool if I take the coast?”

  “Anything's better than the freeway.”

  I got us out of San Clemente and headed north on PCH through Dana Point and into Laguna. There was traffic, but it was nothing like the freeway and at the very least, we had a better view of the ocean as the early morning fog burned off, revealing a huge expanse of blue water as far as we could see.

  “So this is how we'll play it,” Gina said, settling back into her seat. “We're going to try to be short and to the point. I think the dad is going to start with some pompous crap about how they're doing us a favor, even meeting with you. Listen, but don't listen. Meaning look like you're paying attention, but don't listen to his words because he'll probably just piss you off. Remember why we're there. To apologize and get out.”

  The anxiety from stepping to the speaker's podium the previous night returned to my gut, but I nodded.

  “If he gets too wordy, I'll cut him off,” she said. “I don't want you saying anything other than the apology. Any other questions, I'll answer them. You're going to stick to the message. As soon as you've apologized, I'll thank them for their time and we're out. If they wanna talk some more, I'll get us out of there. My plan is to not be there more than twenty minutes, tops.”

  I nodded again. “Okay. What do I say to the guy?”

  She thought for a moment, tucked the hair behind her ear. “Be simple, be sincere. Don't qualify the apology, like hey I'm sorry I broke your face.”

  I laughed. “I won't say that.”

  “I'm sorry I lost my temper,” she said. “I'm sorry about the altercation and I'm sorry for any embarrassment it's caused your family. It shouldn't have happened and I take full responsibility. I hope you'll accept my apology.” She paused. “Something like that and then that's it. If they wanna ask questions, you stick to the message. Just keep saying I'm just here to apologize and I don't want to take up any more time than I already have. I don't care what they ask. Just keep saying you're sorry. I'll end it and get us out of there.”

  I shifted in my seat. I had no problem apologizing for things I'd done and things I truly felt sorry for. I'd apologized to Gina because I really felt bad that I'd made her so uncomfortable with the kiss. But I just didn't think I'd done anything wrong at the bar and having to apologize for that was a lot to swallow.

  “This will benefit you, Kellen,” she said, like she was reading my mind. “I know it sucks. I know this wasn't your fault. But just keep in mind that this is a really small thing to do to truly be done with it.”

  “I won't be done with it if they decide to sue,” I said.

  She waved a hand in the air. “They aren't going to sue. They're full of shit. Because if they do, then we have to pull in everyone who saw what happened and they're all going to say that you didn't start it and his kid will look like an asshole. They'll bring in the girl and she'll have to admit she came on to you.” She shook her head. “They aren't going to sue. He's just blowing smoke.”

  I nodded, but I wasn't so sure.

  She directed me up the Newport coast and into the Pelican Hill development. This guy was loaded because it was an elite area where the richest of the rich lived. Lots of sprawling mansions on the rolling hills, all pointed in the direction of the Pacific. Millions and millions of dollars with one of the best views those millions could buy.

  We stopped at the gatehouse and after checking a clipboard, the security guard hit a button and the massive gates swung slowly open. He gave us directions as to how to find the house and four minutes later, I was pulling into a huge, half-circle drive.

  “Looks like they're expecting us,” Gina said, a small smile on her face, shaking her head.

  The guy I'd punched was sitting on the brick steps at the front of the sprawling home, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His left eye was purple and swollen and his jawline matched. He wore shorts and a T-shirt and Dodgers cap on his head.

  A man was standing just to his left, hands on his hips, wearing gray slacks and a white golf shirt He watched us as we pulled in. I pegged him as the dad. The two other guys were dressed similarly in dress pants and golf shirts.

  “Not sure if the other two are lawyers or what,” she said. “Just address the dad and Mr. Branagan, alright?”

  I cut the engine. “Got it.”

  She glanced at me. “You ready?”

  “Yep.”

&nbs
p; “You can do it,” she reminded me. “No different than last night. Just focus.”

  I nodded and we got out of the car. The dad strode down the stairs, eyeing me, then looking at Gina. “You're the P.R. woman?”

  She extended her hand. “I'm Gina Bellori.”

  “Ron Branagan,” he said, shaking her hand, then cutting his eyes toward me. “And I assume this is Mr. Handler.”

  I extended my hand and nodded.

  But he made no move to shake my hand, instead fixing me with a stare that was meant to scare me.

  I let my hand fall to my side.

  He placed his hands on his hips. “Mr. Handler, I hope you know that I'm still not sure this will do anything. My son took quite a beating at your hands, for no apparent reason.”

  My gut tightened and I bit my tongue.

  “And I was not inclined to allow you on my property for fear of what you might do,” he said. “My legal consultants advised against it. But I really wanted to hear what you had to say for yourself. So if you really intend to apologize, let's get on with it.”

  For a moment, I visualized punching him in the face instead of his son. I had nothing to apologize for and now this guy was basically calling me out because his kid had acted like a prick to me, forcing me to defend myself. To use his word, I was inclined to knock him the fuck out.

  I glanced at Gina.

  She nodded, expressionless.

  Focus.

  I walked over to Branagan's' son, who was still sitting on the steps. He looked up at me, his eyes full of hate and anger. It seemed pretty clear that he had been against this.

  “I'm incredibly sorry about the other night,” I said, looking at him, forcing the words out of my mouth. “I lost my temper and there was no excuse for it. I'm sorry for the whole thing and any embarrassment or problems it's caused you and your family. It never should've happened and I take full responsibility. I'm sorry and I hope you'll accept my apology.” I held out my hand.

  The guy looked at my hand like it was covered in dog shit. “Whatever, asshole,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.

  I was in the perfect spot to kick him right in those teeth.

  But I didn't.

  Instead, I dropped my hand again and walked back toward Gina.

  The older Branagan had a bewildered expression on his face. “That's it? That's the big apology? Really?” He glanced at his son. “You nearly kill Keith and then you just tell him you're sorry and it won't happen again?” He laughed derisively and shook his head. “What a joke.”

  I felt my face redden.

  “Mr. Handler agreed to apologize for the other night and we appreciate you letting us come here to do so,” Gina said. “We don't want to take up any more of your time.”

  “So what should he do now?” Branagan asked me, ignoring Gina. “His jaw's busted, he can barely see out of his eye and he's scared to go outside now for fear that some maniac like you is going to attack him. What exactly should he do about that, Handler?”

  I glanced at Gina. She stared back at me.

  “I'm sorry,” I said. “I just wanted you to know that I was sorry.”

  Branagan's face grew red with anger. “Well, here's what I want you to know, you little asshole. I think you're full of shit. I think you wanna skirt around what you did. I think my son was minding his own business and you got drunk and went nuts. I think you should pay for what you did.” He glanced at Gina. “And coming here with some publicity broad isn't going to save your ass.”

  I bristled at his description of Gina and started to say something, but she opened her mouth before I could.

  “Again, Mr. Branagan,” she said. “Mr. Handler came here just to apologize. The intent isn't to debate with you. He's apologized and we'll be on our way.”

  “We're gonna sue the shit out of you,” he growled at her.

  Gina motioned for me to head toward the car. I hesitated, then turned.

  “And no one's gonna feel sorry for your ass, just because of your dead friend,” he said. “I'm gonna take you for everything you've got and then we'll find you and kick your ass a little more.”

  I froze in my tracks, the anger rising in my gut.

  But Gina was ready.

  She spun on her heel and held out her phone. “Do you know what this is, Mr. Branagan?”

  He face screwed up with confusion. “It's a fucking phone.”

  “Correct,” she said, walking toward him. “But it's also a recording device. Wanna hear what you sound like on it?”

  He blinked and his cheeks began to flush.

  “Here, let me just play you a snippet,” she said. She tapped the screen, then held it up again in his direction.

  And played back to him the entire conversation from the moment we'd arrived, complete with his threats and calling her a publicity broad.

  Branagan's hands balled into fists and his entire face went tomato red. “You fucking bitch.”

  “I'm sorry I didn't get that one, too,” she said, dropping her phone into her pocket. “But I'm pretty sure that I've got enough on here to keep anyone in the media interested. I mean, if I need to share it with the media.” She smiled. “But that'll be your call.”

  “You think that's going to stop me?” he asked, his fists practically shaking at his sides.

  “Yes, actually I do,” Gina said. “Because I think all anyone's going to hear is Mr. Handler apologizing and you acting like a junior high bully. And let's be honest. If your son was honest with you, we both know you don't have a damn thing to take to your...what did you call them? Your legal consultants, right?” She looked past him at his son. “Right, Keith? You told your dad about your girlfriend hitting on Mr. Handler and how he tried to walk away from you and your friends three times, and that you took the first swing? I assume you would've shared that with him since there were nearly a dozen people who witnessed the fight and can confirm that's what happened. Because that's what they told me when I talked to them.”

  Keith Branagan's' face turned nearly as red as his father's. I had no idea if that was because he hadn't told his father or because he was embarrassed at hearing the entire thing described back to him. Either way, it was effective.

  “Get outta my driveway,” Branagan said, but some of his anger had dissipated.

  “Gladly,” Gina said, walking back to the car again. “You have a great day, Mr. Branagan.”

  TWENTY

  “How'd you know he was gonna go off like that?” I asked.

  We were back out on the highway, heading toward San Clemente.

  “I didn't know for sure,” she said, tapping away on her phone. “It was just a hunch.”

  “So you just turned the recorder on?”

  “It's on nearly anytime I go into a situation that might turn contentious,” she said staring at her phone, then tapping away some more. “I had it on at the hotel when we talked for the first time the other day.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “Yep. You never know.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “Someone makes a threat, someone steps out of line, letting them know they can't hide from it is a pretty effective way to take the wind out of their sails,” she said, finally setting her phone down in her lap. “You saw what it did to Branagan. We'll never hear from that guy again because he knows if I ever played that for anyone, any public support he might've had would disappear in a heartbeat. You apologized and he acted like a giant dick. Can't spin it any other way. It's not his word against ours.” She smiled. “It's literally just his words.”

  “I think I'm afraid of you,” I said.

  She chuckled. “Please. It's just about being prepared. You have nothing to worry about. And you, once again, came through with flying colors. I just made you look like a hero to my boss and yours.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “Just sent an email to them, detailing what happened. Told them your apology was professional and sincere and that when things got heated,
you kept cool and did just as directed.” She smiled. “I thought they should know.”

  It had been awhile since anyone had gone to bat for me. She wasn't at all what I'd expected. I thought I was getting a babysitter, but she was more than that. She was an ally. And I was really surprised that she'd done that after getting so angry with me the night before.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Don't thank me,” she said. “You handled it all great.”

  “I wanted to kick his teeth in,” I said.

  “Me too,” she said. “But we won by not kicking his teeth in. Trust me.”

  I nodded. I knew she was right. And it actually felt pretty good doing the right thing for a change.

  “Okay,” I asked as we hit San Clemente. “What's next?”

  She shifted in her seat and tugged at the seat belt. “You get a day off tomorrow.”

  “A day off? Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Totally serious.”

  There was something in her demeanor that seemed different, but I couldn't put a finger on it. But I felt like we were back to the night before. “Did I do something wrong? Again?”

  She was staring out the window at the coast. “Not at all. I told you. You were great today.”

  “So then because of last night?”

  She shook her head. “No. We said our apologies. Last night is over and done with.”

  “So why nothing tomorrow?”

  “I've got another appointment.”

  “You have another client?” I asked. “I thought I was your only project at the moment.”

  “You are,” she said. “I mean, you aren't a project. I hate that word. You're a human, not something to turn in. You are my only client at the moment.”

  “So what kind of appointment then?”

  “It's personal.”

  “Like family personal? Or something else?”

  She didn't say anything for a minute, her eyes glued to the water as we continued driving. “Family personal.”

  I wasn't sure I believed her. It still felt like it was about the kiss. There was an edge to her voice and even though I had a million more questions, I closed my mouth until we got back to my place.