Wayward Dreams

by Gail McFarland

  Amused, Payne watched him climb in the truck, grab the seatbelt, and snap it into place. “So you’re just going to invite yourself along?”

  Grinning sheepishly, Alin nodded. “Yeah. I figured somebody should ride shotgun. You’re going to see the lawyer, right?”

  Payne let the question slide. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled the truck onto Lynhurst. Slowing at the corner, he refused to move his face or his eyes.

  “Going in on a day when I’m guessing he ought to be sitting up in somebody’s church, I figure a lawyer is going to do some serious talking.” Alin looked out the window. “I figure it’s about the money she owes you.”

  “It’s not too late for me to kick your ass out of my truck.”

  “Man, I’m on your side,” Alin protested. “You know I’d take a bullet for you, but this ain’t right, you going up there to talk to a nine-to-five man on a Sunday.”

  “Now you’re a church boy?”

  Alin shrugged. “I’m just thinking somebody ought to ride shotgun.”

  “And it might as well be you?”

  “Might as well.”

  My man has got all the best qualifications of a dog—stupid and loyal.

  Alin screwed his hips around in the leather seat and persisted. “He tell you what he wanted to talk about?”

  “Yeah, Bianca and my money.”

  “He say how much?”

  “What? Are you my banker, now?”

  “You know I’m on your side. I’m just asking, is all.” Wounded, Alin’s face sagged. “Well, the least she could have done was be grateful. Pay up like she’s supposed to.”

  “That’s all I’m saying.” There was nothing else to say, so Kelvin made his mind a blank and ignored his passenger as he made the turn onto I-285. Traffic was never good on the road that circled Atlanta, so he spent the next fifteen minutes swearing under his breath and dodging the cars and trucks that chased and threatened him all the way through town.

  Alin was still holding his peace when KPayne stopped in the parking deck and unclipped his seatbelt. Alin did the same, making sure his feet were moving when Payne’s did. Keeping the other man’s rhythm, he followed Kelvin Michael Payne off the elevator and into the offices of Christian, Barclay, and Jones.

  Most of the lights were off, with only one or two other people drifting through the space, but it was still imposing when they stepped through the door. The offices were commanding, lots of heavily veneered wood, crown molding, and thick carpets. But KPayne had been in and out of these offices with his parents since, well, since forever.

  At the reception desk, looking like the deacon he was, Aldrich Christian wore a starched white shirt and blue paisley-printed silk tie with his dark suit. Christian looked up from the stack of mail he was handling and Payne almost laughed. With his peanut butter-colored skin, thin wavy hair, and those wire-framed glasses perched on the end of his long thin nose, he looked so much like Ichabod Crane from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” that it was funny. Payne guessed they were his Sunday-go-to-meetin’ specs.

  Laughing would have been rude, and he just couldn’t do it out loud, not right in the man’s face. He settled for bumping Alin with his shoulder. Alin got the joke immediately, and the corner of his mouth lifted when he dropped his eyes to the floor.

  Looking at the duo, Christian prayed for patience. I can’t believe I passed up brunch for this. It was unfortunate that Kelvin Payne had inherited the Reynolds money and the Payne looks, but none of the common sense inherent to either family. That simply made working with him an unpleasant, thug-related part of his job. As for Alin, he decided, he was just an evil part of the game Payne was trying to play these days.

  When the attorney’s myopic gaze turned staunchly disapproving, Kelvin shoved his hands into his pockets and said, “You wanted to see me. I’m here.”

  “Indeed. It’s in my office.”

  Kelvin threw his hands into the air and frowned at Alin before he turned and followed Christian through the silence to his office.

  Filled with dark wood and shelves of legal books, the office was dim even at one in the afternoon. Kelvin recognized the scent of lemon furniture polish on good wood. He remembered the smell from childhood and associated it with visits to this office with his parents. Coming here had always been the prelude to something fun with his mother or father.

  But he was here on business today. He rolled his shoulders, and when the lawyer offered a seat he chose to stand. Alin dropped into one of the brown leather wing chairs and sat with his legs spread wide, trying to look bored.

  KPayne turned his attention to the lawyer. “You said you had something for me? Something I had to sign for?”

  Christian walked behind his desk and sat. His lips were pressed thin when he opened the lap drawer and pulled out a single blue-edged envelope and a ballpoint pen. Setting them on the desk, his fingers rested lightly on the envelope for a moment before he reached into the desk and pulled out an old-fashioned rusty black ledger.

  “I’ll need you to sign,” he said, flipping pages in the ledger. “Your full legal name, here.”

  Payne looked at him. “Why?”

  Tempted to say because I said so, Christian’s fingers tapped the line. “Protocol.”

  Payne took the pen and pulled the book closer. He signed his name quickly, then slapped the pen down beside it. Christian pulled the book back, slid the envelope forward.

  KPayne ripped the envelope open and tapped the contents into his palm. A check. He read the amount and sucked his teeth. “This is it? I came all the way down here for this?”

  Christian folded his hands and wished he was back in church. “Today is the date it was due. It arrived this morning, exactly the way her contract said it should.”

  KPayne folded the check in half again. Part of him clearly wanted to rip it to shreds, but he didn’t. He was breathing hard when he raised his eyes to meet those of his attorney.

  Behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, Aldrich Christian blinked and hoped Payne would remain silent. I hate being in the middle of this. It’s bad enough she had the messenger deliver it here. Just take the check and get out.

  Hope died when Payne flipped the tightly folded rectangle end-over-end, and watched it land on the desk near the lawyer’s folded fingers. When he lifted his eyes again, Christian noticed that the younger man’s usually clear green eyes had grown murky with emotion.

  “What does she think I’m supposed to do with this?”

  How the hell do I know? And why the hell do you think I should care? Christian sat back in his brass-studded chair and said nothing while Payne shifted and mumbled.

  “Can we at least repossess the Jag?”

  “You asked me that before, and the answer is still no.”

  Payne stomped his foot like a two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum. “So she gets to out-slick me again?”

  Christian sighed. “You ignored all recommendations and put the car in her name when you paid for it in full.”

  “Damn it! I can’t even get the money back on the car, none of it?”

  The attorney stroked his graying goatee, and his skin took on an ashen cast. Looking up at his client, he wondered what he should say. The son was nothing like his father, nowhere near as astute or willing to profit from the hard work of his accountants or lawyers. He simply wanted to do what he wanted to do, and damn the rest of the world.

  He’s in deep, the lawyer figured. Maybe too deep this time.

  Pacing, Payne hooked his thumb into the belt loop of his jeans and hitched them up on his lean hips. Then he gave the secretary’s chair a solid kick. The chair rolled a few feet away, then fell noisily on its side when he kicked it again.

  “She’s not gonna get away with throwin’ nickels and dimes my way while she’s out there livin’ her life. I’m not gonna let her.” Payne’s face, as handsome and intense as any movie star’s, clouded. His eyes narrowed and the fine bow of his lips became a thin line. “How she gonna try
to pass this chump change off as a payment?” He whirled on the attorney. “How she gonna do that?”

  Christian knew the question was rhetorical, but he had a better one: How did your parents spend all that money putting you through private schools, and you can’t figure out how to use the English language?

  “What are you shaking your head for?” Payne shouted. “I loaned her money, and she’s going to have to pay it back. I have responsibilities.”

  Probably to your scary-ass new friend. Quiet as it was kept, and it was quiet, Christian had heard about Buoy Mann’s intention to expand his business operations. He’d also seen Mann’s signature on a pair of documents Kelvin tried to slide past him. But paralegals don’t know everything. And that was why the documents found their way to his desk—for final review. A first-year law student would have seen the gaping holes in the documents, but it took a sharper eye to find the gouges dug into Payne’s trust fund.

  Kelvin Michael Payne really was in deep.

  Christian watched his client stomp around the office. When he suddenly stopped, it made Christian hold his breath. What next?

  Payne slapped a hand to the desk and grabbed the check. He stuffed it in his pocket, then pointed a stern finger at the attorney. “You fix this, you hear me? Fix this.”

  Fix this? How? Christian wondered, his eyes fixed on Payne’s retreating back. Who does he think I am, anyway? His fairy godfather? “Think it over,” he finally said. “I’ll be here the rest of the afternoon. Get some lunch, think it over, and then decide on your next step.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to do that. Get some lunch and think this through,” Payne said, pretending that taking time to think was his idea. “I’m going to get back to you.”

  He hiked his baggy pants higher on his hips and strode from the office, his silent accomplice at his heels. And Christian was deeply grateful.

  * * *

  “Yeah, we’re almost there. Get a table,” Alin said, closing his phone. “They’re going to meet us at No Mas.”

  KPayne tried to focus on driving, but it wasn’t easy. What he really wanted to do was just plow right over the no-driving joker in front of him. He gripped the steering wheel and bit down on his lip instead. No point in letting her ruin the rest of my day.

  Turning into the No Mas Café parking lot and stepping away from the truck made him feel a little better when a pair of valets rushed up, recognizing the truck and knowing him by name. He liked it that way.

  With Alin still dogging his steps, he made his way across the deck, past diners at crowded tables and the art on display. A young woman wearing a smile and the simple gauze pants and top that served as her uniform rushed to his side. He liked that, too. Unctuous to a fault, working toward a fat tip, she led him to the rear table where his party was already assembled.

  As he and Alin approached, the people at their table grew quieter and made room for them. KPayne knew they were ready for fun—maybe enough fun to blow the dust out of his head and help get him over his meeting with Aldrich Christian.

  Nobody at the table was interested in his meeting with Christian or the skimpy payment check in his pocket. His people had arrived early enough to have finished a first round of drinks and a pitcher of cold sangria, along with a thick platter of loaded nachos. Feeling a little left out, he took a seat and a menu. This had to get better.

  Holding court was nothing new for KPayne, and he reveled in it. No Mas Cantina offered delicious food and casual dining in an exotic atmosphere, and he liked it there. With him picking up the tab, the other six people at his table, including Alin and the petite Caressa, all did their best to make him smile, and it was working, too. Right up until he looked up to see Bianca walk across the floor with a tall, attentive man.

  He wished he could have said it didn’t bother him to see her out with someone else, but he couldn’t and it did. She didn’t see him, but he saw her and she didn’t look bad at all. In fact, she looked pretty darned good in her lacy white summer dress and gold sandals. He didn’t recognize the dress or the shimmery earrings dangling from her ears. Can’t get my money to me, but she can go shopping? What’s up with that?

  Payne sized up the man she was with: older, taller—and definitely working out. With those eyes and the shape of his face, the brother had an exotic, almost foreign look. The sigh of the woman at his elbow made KPayne look harder at the way the man was looking at Bianca. But the problem was the way Bianca was looking at the man. They seemed to share some private joke, and crossing the room, her soft eyes held the man and no one else.

  He had a mental flash of the man in bed with Bianca. My Bianca. The thought of her sensually flushed body and all of that tousled hair was almost too much for him.

  KPayne watched them being seated and placing their orders. Bianca’s smile and the color climbing her cheeks were almost unbearable. He knew all too well the appeal of her voice, lowered to include only the man with her. The small movement that threw her hair over her shoulder revealed a golden chain holding a locket he’d never seen. When her fingers strayed to the back of the man’s hand, it was almost more insult than KPayne could take—that used to be me, all about me!

  KPayne found himself shoving past the woman at his side and heading for Bianca’s table. Self-righteous and not caring about the people he passed so roughly, he couldn’t stop his roiling thoughts: How is she going to owe me money and think I’m going to sit here while she’s flaunting this brother? Wonder what he’s paying for the privilege? I wonder what…

  Bianca sensed his presence seconds before she saw him; KPayne was targeting her with the precision of a laser. Please don’t let him make a scene…But the look in his eyes told her a scene was inevitable. Somewhere in her heart she suddenly knew the truth of Newton’s Third Law of Physics: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

  Her throat locked.

  “Bianca? Is something wrong?” Harry’s eyes followed hers to the rapidly advancing man.

  KPayne’s steps looked like the approach of every lie she’d ever told, every plot she’d ever manipulated, and Bianca wished the earth would simply open between them and swallow somebody—she didn’t even care who. Just let it be over. Please.

  When he reached the table, KPayne leaned in and planted his hands on the white tablecloth. He looked briefly at Harry, but aimed his wrath at Bianca. “You’re just out having lunch, enjoying the day, huh? Well, I want my money. Now.”

  “Kelvin, this isn’t the time or the place.”

  He slammed his heavy hand against the table and she jumped. “Damn a time or place!” he said, his green eyes flashing.

  Ashamed, and aware that Harry was watching, Bianca prayed for reason to surface. “Kelvin, I sent your payment to your attorney, and, as far as the next one goes, I have to ask you to be patient.”

  “I ain’t gotta be patient.”

  Hope for reason died. Bianca’s throat went dry and her hands trembled in her lap. Kelvin was pushing his anger and her limits, as she clung to the remnants of her pride. “We have a contract, and I’m doing my best to honor it. I’ve just signed a major contract and the money from the vendor will cover some of my debt…”

  “Did I stutter, or are you just hard of hearing? I said I want my money. I want all of it.”

  “Excuse me.” Harry’s voice was calm and reasonable, but his tone was not to be ignored.

  KPayne shifted his eyes, and swallowed hard when he met Harry’s unyielding gaze. “What?”

  “It seems you have a business concern that would be better addressed outside this restaurant. It also seems your language and actions are inappropriate.”

  “What?” KPayne balled his hands into fists, emphasizing his point.

  “Whatever you thought you needed to say to this lady, consider it said. You need to leave.” Harry stood.

  KPayne ran a hand along his jawline and decided a fight wasn’t worth it. He pulled at his jeans and took a step back. Looking from Bianca to Harry, he said, “Th
is ain’t over.”

  “Yes, it is,” Harry said.

  Knowing his crew was watching and that this man meant business, KPayne shook his finger at Bianca. “We’ll talk.”

  Turning on his heel and trying hard to keep his stroll cool and even, Payne managed to reach his table. He looked into the curious faces staring at him, but there was nothing they could do for him; they didn’t even look like fun anymore. Hell with them. He slapped money to the tabletop. “I’m out.”

  Maybe none of them wanted to be stuck with the final bill. Maybe they actually felt some loyalty to the man who usually paid it. Maybe they had watched his confrontation and felt sorry for him. Whatever the reason, the people at the table stood and moved when KPayne did. Bumping one another, talking louder than necessary, they tried to look cool shambling across the floor in their expensive video-flavored street chic and overdone jewelry.

  Harry watched Payne and his entourage file out of the restaurant and across the patio. When they paused before descending the stairs to the parking lot, Harry took a good look at him. Late twenties, early thirties; young and overindulged, he thought. Probably comes from money; had good skin and teeth, expensive jeans and shoes. Too young to appreciate something good. Harry frowned slightly when he looked back to Bianca.

  “Wait,” she blurted before he could speak. “I need to apologize for that scene.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.” She raised her hands, then let them fall into her lap. “That was Kelvin.”

  “An ex-boyfriend.”

  “If you think you know something, you don’t. I told you my life was complicated. He’s one of the complications. I used to…” Her eyes fell to the hands twisting in her lap. “Date him,” she finished.

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Food arrived, but for the life of her, Bianca couldn’t come up with any words that made sense. How was she going to make what had just happened between her and Kelvin make any sense to the man sitting across from her? He was a nice guy, attracted to her, and she was attracted to him; that only made things more difficult.