The Client(48)

Shit. I shifted my hand from my neck to my forehead, then pinched the bridge of my nose. So much for finishing up that last song. I was hoping to have something to show the guys on Monday, but that wasn’t going to happen. “Alright. Tell Carter I’ll be there soon. Look, if Brinke shows up…hell, just call me. And make sure you go with them if they go anywhere. I’ll catch up with you and take over, okay?”

“You got it. But you know she isn’t…” Alex didn’t finish.

She didn't have to. “I know.” Brinke wasn’t going to show. She was out partying. She’d already forgotten the plans she’d made with our daughter.

After disconnecting, I turned to Leslie. She was already gathering up her stuff, her face a carefully blank mask. “I’ve gotta go. Is there…do I need to sign stuff or anything to move forward from here?”

“No.”

She gave me a quick smile – the professional one she used almost every damn time she looked at me. I knew why she used it too. She felt the same tug I felt, only I was better at hiding it.

It was those eyes that gave her away.

“From here on out, a lot of the work is going to be mine. Well, up until it comes time to go to court.”

Court. It left a bad taste in my mouth. “I…look, I don’t want to keep Brinke away from Carter completely. She does love her.”

“I’m sure she does. But she’s also unstable. She…” Leslie sighed and set her bag on a chair.

This time, when she looked at me, there was no pretext or false smiles, nothing but seriousness – and concern, I realized. For a kid she didn’t even know. My kid. My heart gave an unsteady thump.

“You have to understand that she’s committed illegal acts that have placed your daughter in danger. I mean, I know you understand that. That’s what drove you to take action, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you need to take that action. Who knows, maybe this will be the thing that forces your wife to realize just how badly she needs help.”

I turned away. I guess a guy could hope. It might be like hoping for snow in July in New York City, but hey, anything was possible, right?



* * *



“This is fucking impossible.”

Staring at the dashboard of the 1962 Shelby Cobra I’d bought at auction the first time we'd gone platinum, I threw my head back against the butter soft leather and proceeded to mutter a long and steady stream of curses. Then I did it in Spanish. I was trying to help Carter become bilingual and I figured I’d do the same thing. All the fun words were cuss words. Not that I'd taught her any of those.

Climbing out of the car, I debated between throwing up the hood and kicking the tire. In the end, I kicked the tire, because there was no way I was going to touch the engine. That car was my baby and she was more temperamental than Brinke. No one but a pro touched her.

At the sound of a car stopping close by, I looked up, saw the valet just across the lot passing the key over to Leslie. She glanced up, smiled at me, but then the smile faltered. She said something to the valet and then trotted across the road to where I stood.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the piece of shit engine won’t turn over.”

Leslie slid her eyes behind me. There was a gleam of appreciation in them as she studied the silver coat. “I don’t think you can call that car a piece of shit.”

“You're right. The car is fine. The engine is a temperamental piece of shit. It won’t turn over when I need it to. The damn car loves to screw with me.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a driver who takes you wherever you want to go.”

Restless, I shrugged, tossing my keys into the air before catching them. “I do have one. He’s got kids, a wife. It’s a holiday. Besides, if I use him all the time, how am I ever going to drive my baby?”

“And that’s your baby…the car that’s screwing with you?” A smile curved her lips up.

I wanted to kiss that mouth, bad.

“Yeah.” With a curt nod, I sidestepped around her and headed toward the valet. It was Joey working today, so at least my luck didn’t totally suck. “Hey, can you call your brother? Tell him she’s acting up again?”

He gave me a pained look. “I can, Mr. Gorham, but he’s out of town for the Fourth. I know a couple of the guys are on call, though. Good guys, really. Tony doesn’t put up with losers.”

“That’s cool. If you keep an eye on her until somebody can get her to the garage, I’d appreciate it.” I pulled a few bills out of my pocket and passed them. Joey's older brother Tony ran a high-end repair shop, just for people who had cars like mine, expensive relics that liked to test their owners' patience. It was in good hands. “Thanks, kid.”