Quicksilver Dreams(188)

                I began to have my second set of misgivings about this meeting, but I reminded myself that we were going to a public place. Everything was going to be fine.

                “I hope Sushi on Sunset is okay with you,” he murmured.

                “Fine.”

                “It’s quick, and at this time of day, it will likely be a little quieter. We can do business, and I can make my flight.”

                “Where are you going?”

                “Here we are.” He pulled into a space on the street, ignoring my question. I’d seen the answer, though. He was going to the Cayman Islands for a while, so he could lose himself and whoever was going to come after him for what he’d done.

                What had he done? That was the million-dollar question. I knew I needed to let Ryder know what was going on, so I took my phone out and immediately saw the text he’d left me before I ran out of the office.

                Wait for me!

                Feeling guilty, I texted him as we got out of the car while Paul fed quarters into the meter. I let him know in shorthand script that I thought Paul was in trouble and that he was on the run. I told him that I was sorry I didn’t wait. I told him again what restaurant I was at. He didn’t get back to me, which had me believing that maybe he was on the way, but it would take time coming from the beach. Traffic was a bitch no matter what time of day in L.A.

                The back table, away from the crowd, was what Paul requested. He did another scan around the restaurant and looked out the windows, which was starting to get me worried. Who had he pissed off? What retribution was he expecting?

                “Two waters,” Paul told the waiter who approached and looked at me expectantly. “Know what you want?”

                Actually, I hadn’t even looked at the menu. Good thing I’d been to the place a time or two. Obviously, Paul was ready to leave like five minutes ago. I ordered udon with shrimp and vegetables.

                “Make that two, and bring the bill immediately. I’m going to be in a hurry.”

                “Yes, sir.” The waiter moved off quickly, reacting to Paul’s sharp tone.

                “I get that you need this to happen now. I have the contract here. I can go over it with you.”

                “Let me sign it.”

                I put the file on the table and quickly explained the major points before pointing to the few places he needed to initial and sign. Reggie wasn’t here to sign, so I couldn’t get copies to him yet. Paul was fine with that and handed the paperwork back to me.

                Food arrived at the same time as the bill.

                “Okay, so how do I get in touch with you?” I asked, trying to eat quickly.

                “I’ll send you a post-office box when I’m settled. I’ll be moving around for the next few years, so I’ll just check in with you every few months, either by email or by phone.”

                “Paul, what is going on? Why are you in such a...a...panic?”

                He looked at me a moment, as though stuck for what to say. And that’s when I got the goods. The memory of a conversation between his father and Frank came tumbling out of his mind.

                “This is the big time,” said Paul’s father. He was an older man with slickly styled gray hair that was smoothly combed back, wearing a beautifully tailored business suit. Almost giddy with delight, he paced behind his desk in his large, opulent office with dark, rich wooden paneling and large windows overlooking downtown Los Angeles.