The attorney cursed under his breath. "I understand. I'll be back in touch within the hour."
He called in fifteen minutes. Offer accepted. Another one bites the dust.
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I'd back-burnered or settled a dozen cases. I was making hellish time, working myself and my associates down to the bone.
I yelled down the associates' hall as I walked out, "Vin, you get those subpoenas out on Castille?"
"Done." His weary voice called back to me.
Good job. "Keep up the mediocre work!"
No reply, only a slight grumbling sound.
After a hard-charging week, I figured it was time for libations at the Docket Call. I'd been avoiding the place for days, but it was Friday and I needed a drink. Better to run the risk of a Lincoln panty-melting incident than go home and drink lonely. Drinking alone was not a problem, but drinking lonely was something else altogether.
I only felt a twinge of loneliness every so often. Sometimes I'd see couples dining at a restaurant or just walking together in the city, holding hands. They would make me feel like maybe I was missing something. I didn't like that feeling. So I'd meet someone, take them back to my place, and screw the loneliness away. Suck it, hand holders! All was well.
I wasn't lonely, just intentionally alone. On purpose. Completely.
I hurried to the bar, glad to see the familiar faces. Even Wood's scowl brightened my mood. Mike poured a double and set it down on the thick oak bar.
"Where you been, stranger?" he asked.
I smiled. "Had to come back. Couldn't stand being away from you for so long."
I sidled up to Woodhall and took a well-worn seat.
"Finally got the nerve to come back to the watering hole?" he asked.
"Well"-I took a drink of the lower-shelf shit-"when the water is this tasty, I can't stay away."
"That's my girl." Wood finished his old-fashioned and asked for another.
I looked around. No Lincoln. I was relieved yet also disappointed.
"He's working late tonight. Your guy Castille's a slippery one."
I ignored his assumption that I was looking for Lincoln. Besides, it was true, I was hoping for his tall, dark, and handsome brand of sexy. My ears perked up at the mention of Castille.
"What makes him so slippery?"
"Barking up the wrong tree, Evan."
Woodhall had never given me any information, and likely never would. He was a tight-lipped do-gooder with a badge shoved straight up his ass. I respected him. There was nothing else to do with a man like him. I could imagine Wood shaking his fist and yelling "get off my lawn!" at a bunch of kids. I smiled as I took a drink.
The front door opened. I leaned back. I knew I shouldn't want it to be Lincoln. I should stay away from him. But I wanted it to be him coming through the door all the same. It was Jonesy. He sat to my left and ordered his usual IPA. He already smelled like he'd pre-gamed pretty hard at the office.
"They let you boys drink at the Department of Justice?" I asked.
"Just a few nips here and there," he said, the words already slurred.
I laughed. "Working late?"
"It's only eight thirty. Not that late."
"Shit, it's already eight thirty? Goddammit, Clara is going to bust my balls." Woodhall surrendered his barstool and threw some cash down for Mike. He left in a huff, no doubt counting the moments until he got home to see his grandkids. Oh, Wood.
I turned back to Jonesy. "What you got on the burners?"
He took a leisurely swig and regarded me with his pale baby blues. "Nothing of yours, Evan."
"I was just making conversation." I actually was, this time. I'd missed Jonesy.
He shrugged a little, giving me a try. "Well, I did a ride-along on a drug sweep in Brooklyn."
I leaned closer to him. "Did they let you have a gun?"
He smiled, his youthful charm making an appearance. "Sure did."
I leaned ever farther, letting my breasts press into his arm. I was a harlot and wasn't ashamed to show it. "Did you shoot any bad guys?"
His eyes swept down to my open collar, the smell of liquor heavy on his breath. "Well, as a fine, upstanding man of the law, I certainly thought about it. But, in the end, I let the ATF take down the perp. They needed the ego boost, seeing as how I put them to shame with all my masculine intensity."
I laughed. "You are a true public servant."
"I certainly do live to serve." He focused on my mouth. I leaned away a bit, avoiding his 200-proof breath.
"What about you?" he asked.
"Oh, you know, just protecting the poor and defenseless. Burying my sad little associates under an avalanche of documents. Terrorizing my staff. Run-of-the-mill shit."