He cut a glance to me before throwing the car into drive and maneuvering down the rows to the exit.
"I did. I hear the AG is looking into it."
I slid on my sunglasses as we exited the deck. He pulled a pair from the center console and put them on. I didn't think he could look any hotter. I was wrong. Washington Granade in sunglasses was a ladykiller. What was it about tinted glasses that gave such an air of mystery? I loved it.
It wasn't long before we were on the interstate, still listening to the news of the day and maintaining a relatively comfortable silence. He was an interesting driver. Aggressive, but somehow cautious at the same time. Several times I would have been dropping F-bombs like the blitzkrieg, but all he did was breathe out his nose sort of hard and then go back to his usual stoic self.
When we got too far from the city to keep the NPR going, he switched it to a music station, nothing fancy, mostly Top Forty. It was just background. I saw my chance and took it.
"So, you're from New Orleans?"
He took one hand from the wheel and laid it on the gearshift. The backs of his hands had a light dusting of dark hair. The fingers were long and the nails clipped to a reasonable man-length. Were his palms soft or callused?
"Yes. From here."
I shifted in my seat, facing him at more of an angle. He moved his head toward me and then swiveled his attention back to the road. I couldn't see his eyes behind the glasses.
"Family still live here?"
"Some of them."
His terse answers were no doubt meant to shut me up. They had the opposite effect.
"Which ones?"
"My brother Kennedy." His smooth jaw tightened and released, tightened and released. "And my other brother, Lincoln, just moved back from New York."
"Parents?"
"They've passed."
Shit. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay. It's been years, and I have a lot of great memories." He smiled a little, as if a particularly happy memory had popped up right then.
"So what does Kennedy do?"
"Lawyer."
"Lincoln?"
"Lawyer."
"Seems like the three of you should have started a firm. The name would be easy enough. The Granade Firm. Or maybe you'd do that ridiculous thing where you all three have to be listed because, you know, pissing contest."
His eyebrows raised above the frame of the sunglasses. But I was invested, so there was no stopping.
"So it would be Granade, Granade, and Granade. But the question would be, which one of you is which Granade? Am I right? You'd probably tell everyone you were first, and then your brothers would do the same, and then it would be total anarchy." I snickered.
The corners of his lips twitched, not enough to give me a smile, not even the wolfish one, but the impulse was there. I would take it. He sped up and passed several cars. Speed limits must have been for lesser attorneys. Or maybe ones who couldn't talk themselves out of a ticket. I was certain he could talk his way out of a murder rap, even if he'd been caught with blood on his hands. He was just that good. I'd seen it. I believed it.
"So what about your family?"
"They live in Baton Rouge. I have a brother in New Orleans. He does some sort of financial stuff. I'm not really sure. He tells me about it, but I wind up, you know"-I made the jackoff motion with my hand-"just telling him to tell Mom so she can be proud, because I don't give two shits."
Terrell's voice echoed through my memory: Tone it down. I dropped my hand.
He smirked as he glanced over at me. I was glad my sunglasses hid my eyes so he couldn't see my attempt at being embarrassed.
"I mean, I'm sure it's a good job and everything." I folded my hands in my lap to keep them under tighter guard. That meant my mouth was on its own. Not good.
"How do you like the firm so far?"
"I love it." Kiss-ass. "I've wanted to do criminal defense since my second year of law school. And Palmer & Granade is where I wanted to be. So it all worked out according to my evil plans."
"Evil plans, huh? What made you decide on criminal defense?"
You did. "I, well, I saw a trial that I got really interested in. It was like a Lifetime movie. You go into it thinking, Meh, this is going to be boring or stupid or dumb or trite, and then you watch and you're crying and snotting and so invested and then you root for the heroine when she kills the bad guy even though she's preggers with his love baby. You know?"
The smirk graced me with its presence. "I am very pleased to say that no, I do not know. But do go on."