Champagne Brunch: The Stiletto Sisters Series

by Ainsley St Claire

  “Have a great time.” Nate waves, and we both get into our cars. As Peter drives away, I see Walker and Marci in deep discussion. She’d never have thrown AUSA Lindsey under the bus in front of our friends and her clients, but I wanted everyone to know my concerns. Tatyana Turgeneva is going to eat him for lunch.

  Chapter 19

  Axel

  Alana sits next to me on the park bench, and we watch the boys run around the playground like they haven’t had access to open space in weeks. She looks exhausted. Her black eye has become a lovely shade of purple, and she has a swollen, split lip. I asked her earlier if Marco did it, and she said we’d talk when the boys weren’t around. That’s her way of telling me I’ll never know, but I suspect it’s why the police were so willing to send her home to me.

  “I have a friend coming over for dinner tonight,” I tell her.

  “Male or female?”

  “Female. And she invited me to go away with her to a wedding next weekend in Maui.”

  Alana nods. “Good for you. I’ll be able to manage. Do you want us to move out by then?”

  I shake my head. “You stay as long as you need to. One of my players needs a bodyguard now, so I’ve become familiar with a good company if you think we need to worry about Marco.”

  There are tears in her eyes. “I doubt it. Marco should be in jail for a while.”

  I put my hand on her arm. “I want you here. I adore the boys. My assistant, Kelly, has her kids in an elementary school in the Avenues. We can introduce the kids, and then they’d know someone they’ll go to school with.”

  She gazes out at the boys, who are playing well together. Clay, the oldest, has his baby brother on his lap as he zips down the slide. “Clay has only been homeschooled. We just moved too much to put him in a classroom. He may be behind.”

  “He’s only in first grade. We can get him help if he’s behind, but maybe staying put for a while will be good all of them. Plus, we can enroll Duke in kindergarten and find a daycare for Laird. That way you can focus on baby Tavish.”

  “It’s all so overwhelming,” she whispers.

  “You’re not alone.” I reach for her hand. “Do you remember when Marco slipped me that pot brownie laced with LSD when I was in sixth grade?”

  She nods. “He thought it was funny. Even today I won’t accept anything from him.”

  “You were there while I tripped for almost two days. You managed Mom and Dad. You made sure I was okay.”

  “It was my fault you got the brownie. Marco wanted me to eat it, and I wasn’t hungry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. I would have done the same for you. You stuck by me, and I will always stick by you.”

  She doesn’t look at me, just watches the boys. They’re sun-kissed towheads and you can definitely tell they’re brothers. “I’ve made so many mistakes,” she whimpers.

  “Me too. But we’re going to get to a happy place.”

  She sighs. “Tell me about your friend. She’s not a girlfriend?”

  “She is, but we’ve not had the talk.” I really like Mia, even though I don’t usually get serious.

  “What talk is that? Do you want to go steady?” Alana teases.

  “Pretty much. We need to get our expectations on the table, and we’re still getting to know each other.” I think back to last night when she offered to go bareback, and I freaked a little. I’ve always wrapped it up. Also, I still don’t have the full picture of what she’s dealing with right now. Damn. We were supposed to talk more last night. I can’t say I’m sorry we didn’t, though….

  “What’s holding you back?” Alana asks.

  I snort. “What do you think?”

  “Dad.”

  I nod. “Mom was busy, and he liked young and pretty legal secretaries. I’ve never been very serious with any woman I’ve dated.”

  “So, you think you’re just like Dad.”

  Philandering could be in my DNA. It’s the reason I’ve never allowed myself to get too involved with a woman. “I think I decided a long time ago that I’d never marry and have kids. I just keep it light. What’s happening with Mia is new for me.”

  “You’re the favorite uncle, and you’d make a great dad. And unlike Dad, you wouldn’t marry a woman who turned a blind eye to cheating.”

  I shrug. Duke runs over. His knee is bleeding, and he’s upset because his older brother wasn’t letting him hang out with him.

  Alana stands and calls the rest of the boys to come over. They do immediately. I can tell she’s an outstanding mother, and I know she’ll always do her best. Maybe with my support, she’ll stand on her feet.

  We all walk back to my place. Alana has her youngest on her hip and is holding Laird’s hand. I hold Duke’s hand while Clay holds SoBe’s leash.

  My cellphone pings.

  Kelly: We’re in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by.

  Me: We’re on our way home from the park now.

  “My assistant, Kelly, is at my place,” I tell my sister. “She’s the one who has two boys. Talk to her. She knows how to manage kids in this city.”

  Alana nods, but remains quiet.

  Kelly is standing with her boys on my doorstep in front of two large cardboard boxes when we arrive.

  “We brought some toys and clothes since we didn’t know what you’d have,” Kelly says, reaching out to shake my sister’s hand.

  I adore this woman. I open the door quickly and usher everyone inside as I bring in the boxes.

  “Let me introduce you to my nephews.” I put my hand on each head as I make introductions. “This is Clay.” I turn to him. “Can you tell them how old you are.”

  “Six and a half,” he mutters.

  “This is Duke.”

  “I’m five.” He proudly shows his fingers stretched wide.

  “This is Laird. Can you tell them how old you are?”

  He hides his face in Alana’s skirt.

  “He’s three,” I report as I take my youngest nephew from my sister. “And this is Tavish. He’s eighteen months but thinks he’s six and a half.”

  “My name is Thomas and I’m seven, and this is my little brother, Tyler, and he’s four,” Kelly’s son tells everyone.

  “Alana, this is Kelly.”

  She opens her arms, and Alana steps in.

  “This is so generous of you,” Alana says.

  “Most of the clothes will work for the two youngest, but since they turned four years old, my boys have gone through the knees of every pair of pants.” Kelly laughs. “At least it’s a little bit less you’ll need to scramble to get.”

  “That is so kind of you.” Alana smiles as the boys tear through the toys. My living room looks like a toy store exploded.

  I look at Kelly and mouth, Thank you.

  She smiles. “We thought maybe Clay and Duke might want to come over and play tomorrow morning.”

  “Mom, can we?” Clay jumps up and down.

  “I don’t know why not,” Alana says as she ruffles Clay’s hair. “He hasn’t had many friends outside of his brothers in a while.”

  “Perfect,” Kelly says. “My boys are bored with their summer activities, so this may work out for both of us.”

  “Here, have a seat,” I point Kelly and Alana to chairs in the kitchen, and we watch the boys run around and enjoy themselves.

  We sit for a little over an hour, and there are a lot of tears among the boys.

  “We’re all a little jet lagged,” Alana explains.

  “We should go,” Kelly says. “If it gets too hard to come over in the morning, don’t worry about it. And the time isn’t hard and fast. Whatever works for you.”

  “Thank you,” Alana tells her.

  They hug again before Kelly gathers her boys and leaves.

  Despite it being mid-afternoon, I order pizza, and the boys have an early dinner. By five thirty, everyone—even Alana—is in bed, and I finally get all the toys picked up just as my phone pings with a text.

  Mia: Stil
l up for dinner tonight?

  Me: Why don’t I take you out? The kids and my sister crashed early.

  Mia: Don’t worry about me. We can try another time.

  Me: I’d like to see you.

  It surprises me a little, but I really do mean that. I want to spend time with Mia, and not just between the sheets.

  Mia: Sure. What are you in the mood for?

  Me: You.

  Mia: We could order in takeout?

  Me: No, let’s go out. We can make it a proper date. There’s a great Italian place in North Beach.

  Mia: Why don’t Peter and I meet you there in about an hour?

  Me: Perfect. It’s Gio’s Trattoria. See you then.

  I arrive about twenty minutes early and head to the bar. It’s quiet and peaceful here, unlike my house has been all day. There’s no telling how long Alana and the boys will stay asleep.

  I order a glass of Johnny Walker Blue Label—a splurge, but after the day I’ve had, I need it.

  I feel Mia’s presence before she touches me. “Hey, handsome.” She kisses me on the cheek.

  “Hi.” I stand until she sits down. “How did it go today?”

  She shrugs. “It was what we expected. I think Viviana’s attorney found out I’m not as easy of a witness to manage as she thought, though.”

  I smile. “I probably don’t know you as well as your friend did, but I’d never think of you as a pushover.”

  The hostess approaches and walks us to our table. I feel like everyone is turning to look at us, and I can’t blame them. Mia looks stunning and almost regal as she moves through the restaurant.

  “Tell me more about today,” I suggest once we’re seated.

  She takes a deep breath. “It really went fine. And at least no one leaked my testimony like they did last time.” Her drink arrives, and she takes a sip of her wine. “How did it go for you?”

  “Wait—I want to hear more about this leaked testimony, but to answer your question, it took my sister three hours to get through customs with the boys. It was a little hard to contain them, I guess. The kids were tired and wanted to stretch their legs.”

  Mia nods. “Customs lines are never forgiving of that.”

  “No, and she was by herself. She’s exhausted. I think she’ll be sleeping for a week.”

  “So, I’m guessing the wedding isn’t going to work for you next weekend.”

  “I’m still planning on it, but I don’t know. I told my sister about it this morning, but I guess it depends on how well the kids do adjusting to the local time and how my sister’s holding up.”

  “I’ll understand if you need to stay here. It’s a wedding, so it’s not a big deal—”

  A man approaches our table. He’s wearing a USMC baseball cap. “Excuse me. Are you Mia Couture?”

  She shuts the menu in front of her and looks him in the eyes. “Yes, I am.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” he sneers.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up, but Mia just clasps her hands in front of her.

  Peter immediately approaches and asks the man to step back.

  “It’s because of you that Cecelia Lancaster is dead,” the man yells, pointing his finger at her. “You disrespected a United States Marine, and he’ll be hunting you.”

  I stand up, panic in my throat. What is happening? This guy is attracting too much attention. “Man, you have no idea. She and Nate Lancaster are good friends.”

  He shakes his head. “You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  The manager comes over and escorts the man out.

  The woman he was with throws a bunch of cash on the table and glares at Mia. “You’ll be in jail soon,” she scoffs.

  Mia opens her purse and puts a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Maybe I should go home.”

  “Wait. You don’t need to leave. We can still enjoy dinner,” I scramble.

  “Let the bitch leave,” another man says. “You can do better than her chink ass.”

  “Racist asshole!” I turn to give the guy an evil look, and when I look back, Mia and Peter are on their way out the door.

  I finally catch up to them outside. “Wait. Mia, please!”

  Peter keeps moving, but she stops and looks at me with tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not very good company tonight. Can I take a raincheck?” She can’t even make eye contact.

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut and my heart is racing. None of this makes any sense. “Sure. But we can go back to your place and order something in, if you’d like. I don’t care what those guys said.”

  She looks around, as if worried there’s a mob chasing her. “Maybe another time.”

  A black Escalade drives up to the curb, and Peter helps Mia into the car. In an instant, they take off.

  My head is spinning. Everything happened so quickly, and I’m left standing on the sidewalk as the Mercedes drives away.

  I call for a rideshare, and while I wait, I realize I have to be better informed. I’m missing a lot of pieces of this puzzle, so I search Mia Couture on the internet.

  After a moment, my world begins to spin. There are articles about Mia being arrested this morning and getting out on bail. She told me she was deposed by Viviana Prentis’s attorney.

  There are articles about her being kicked off the board of directors for her behavior, and the stockholders are demanding she be fired from Diamond Analytics. She told me that she was taking a leave of absence to focus on Viviana’s court case.

  Then I see links to porn sites with sex tapes she’s made, and I almost drop my phone. This says her Flirt app first started in China, and is actually designed to funnel prostitutes to wealthy men… She’s being investigated for running a prostitution ring in six states and four other countries?

  A little farther down there’s a story that names her “partners,” who are also under grand jury investigation—even Nate is included, and it implies they might be romantically involved?

  None of this seems at all like the woman I thought I was dating. Is everything Mia’s shown me about herself a scam? Is that why I’m in so much deeper than I usually allow myself to go? I’m not sure what to do.

  My rideshare arrives and I collapse in the back. On the way home, I scroll through the many web links and then move on to images of Mia. There are thousands. My stomach turns. What the hell? I can barely make my legs work when the rideshare drops me at my place. I’ve been gone less than two hours.

  As I walk up, I find Clay sitting on the front steps. My heart stops all over again. I haven’t had this much upheaval in my life since…ever, I don’t think. I shove the mess with Mia to the back burner immediately.

  “Clay, what are you doing out here?” I look around. “Where’s your mom?”

  He jacks his thumb toward the house. “She’s asleep.”

  “Is anyone here with you?”

  He’s watching the street carefully, like he’s waiting for someone. “No, they’re all inside.”

  I sit down next to him, and he’s ice cold. “Why are you sitting outside?”

  “I’m waiting for my dad.”

  My heart breaks, and I pull him in close. “Did you talk to him?”

  “He told me he’d find me. I’m waiting outside so I won’t miss him.”

  “I promise, we won’t miss him.” I stand and hold my hand out. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  We walk into my living room, and Duke has smeared what looks and smells like strawberry jelly on my suede couch. He’s busy watching cartoons.

  “Do you know where Laird is?” I ask, my anxiety increasing. My sister doesn’t need a neglect charge on top of everything else she’s dealing with.

  “He’s sleeping with Mommy. He always sleeps with Mommy.”

  “And what about Tavish?”

  “I don’t know,” Duke says with his eyes attached to the television.

  I race upstairs to the room where Tavish should be slee
ping, and he’s crashed out in the portable crib Kelly brought over.

  I walk downstairs, and Clay is now positioned next to the window, watching and waiting. Duke is still watching cartoons and eating jelly out of the jar by the spoonful.

  “What woke you guys up?” I ask them.

  “I talked to Daddy on the phone, and he said he was coming.”

  My stomach clenches. This is going to get interesting. “Did you tell your dad you got on a plane and came here?”

  Clay nods. “I told him we were at your house.”

  A car must stop out front because his eyes grow wide and he leans toward the window. When he sees it isn’t his father, he sits back. I’m not even sure Marco actually called. But reasoning with a jetlagged six year old is near impossible. I know that.

  I sit down next to him and put my arm around him. “Remember how long it took you to get here in the airplane?”

  He nods. “It took a whole day.”

  “Exactly. So, it’s going to take your Daddy at least that long. Why don’t you go crawl back in bed so you can hang out with him when he arrives?”

  “But I don’t want to be asleep when he gets here.”

  “I promise to make sure you’re awake.”

  I put the boys back to bed and determine I need a better lock if I’m going to go out at night. I pull the information for the police station in Cairns, Australia, call the main line, and ask for Officer Fields. I’m expecting to leave a message when he answers.

  “Officer Fields here.”

  “Oh! Hello. This is Axel Remington. We spoke a few days ago. My sister is Alana Hammond, and you were kind enough to get her on a flight here to San Francisco with her four little boys?”

  “Of course, mate. How can I help you?”

  “Her oldest son, Clay, said that his father, Marco Hammond, called here. Has he been released?”

  “He shouldn’t have, but let me check.” I hear clicking. “Hmmm… Looks like he was released about four hours ago. He has a court date next Thursday.”