by Ella Frank
He was about to go ahead and open the next application when his cell phone started buzzing on the table. Tate picked it up, and when he saw it was his dad he smiled, hit accept, and brought the cell to his ear.
“Hey there, old man.”
“Tate?” his father said. “I’m sorry to bother you at work. I thought I’d get your voicemail.”
“No. No bother. I’m not open or anything, just going through some job applications.”
“Oh, hiring, huh? Business must be good.”
“Business is great. But my manager is actually leaving. So…”
“Gotcha. Gotcha. Well, listen, I was just wondering if you boys would like to come over here this weekend for dinner.”
Tate was about to accept, but then he remembered they were looking after Thomas and Lila. “Actually, we’re busy Saturday looking after the kids for Cole and Rachel. But we’re free Sunday, after they get picked up. We’re skipping dinner at their house until the week after.”
“Sure. That sounds good. Sunday works. I know you both have to work Monday, so do you want to come for lunch?”
Tate remembered a time when it was just a given he’d be showing up at his childhood home on Sunday to go to church and then have lunch. But that was a long time ago, and the family that had once lived in that home no longer existed. Now he called before he drove over there. Just in case.
“Lunch sounds good. I’ll double-check with Logan, but as long as the kiddos are picked up, we’ll head that way.”
“Perfect. And tell Logan I’ve got a bottle of Widow Jane with his name on it.”
“In other words, I’m going to be driving us home.”
“I’ll let you two work that out, but both of you need to try this. I know how Logan likes the pricey stuff.”
“As opposed to me, who likes it cheap? Thanks. And just so you know, Logan will swallow any of the boys, Jack or Jim. His words, not mine.”
“That sounds like him,” Tate’s dad said, and let out a rumbling laugh.
Tate chuckled; having actually tried Widow Jane before, he knew it was an exceptional bourbon, one that Logan would love. “Where’d you get that from?”
“Won it at a game of golf.”
“Oh, wow. Congratulations, then. And I’ll let him know. And we’ll see you on Sunday.”
“See you then, son,” his dad said, and ended the call.
Tate smiled as he stared at the computer and clicked open the next job application, thinking that if his father could come around and accept him and Logan, and even come to love and respect the man his son had chosen to live with and share his life, then why the hell should he be worried about interviewing some random strangers? If they had a problem, then they could show themselves out the door. It had been his motto thus far and worked out just fine, and there was no reason to change it now.
“SO, WHAT YOU’RE saying is you won’t take the case?” Nonna Bianchi—whose name was actually Cheryl—said.
Logan steepled his fingers over the notepad sitting on his desk and looked over the points he’d jotted down about the case. It didn’t look good for Vanessa. No matter which way he played this out in his mind, the girl was going to do time. The only question was how much.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Logan said, raising his eyes to meet Cheryl’s. Robbie and Vanessa’s nonna was a tough lady. That was one of the first things Logan had noted about her as she’d drilled him for facts about the case, himself, and his success rate. She was a pull-no-punches, straight-to-the-point kind of woman, which meant he needed to give this to her straight up. No bullshit. Even though he knew it was going to be tough to hear.
“What I’m saying is it doesn’t look good.” Logan glanced at Vanessa, who was twisting her hands in her lap as she stared at him with guileless eyes. Sitting there in her floral print dress and Mary Janes, he couldn’t actually believe that this girl—because that’s what she is, nothing but a girl—was up on charges of possession with intent to distribute. “The prosecutor is going to come after you to serve time for this. So you aren’t going to get off without some jail time.”
“Jail?” Vanessa said, and her eyes flew to Cheryl. Robbie reached over to take one of his cousin’s hands. “I can’t go to jail.”
Logan rubbed his chin as he looked between the two women. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you. That okay?”
“Please,” Cheryl said, and placed a hand over Robbie and Vanessa’s.
“The fact that they found you with the drugs in hand—”
“They weren’t mine,” Vanessa said, and Logan nodded.
“I believe you. But the cops, they go by what they saw. And they saw you holding the drugs.”
Vanessa’s eyes welled and she brought her hands up to her face, shaking it from side to side. “This isn’t fair. I was just trying to hide it so Nonna wouldn’t get in trouble for something Jared did.”
“Oh baby,” Cheryl said, and wrapped an arm around Vanessa’s shoulders.
Logan got up from behind his desk and his eyes met Robbie, who looked terrified, and with good reason—his cousin was looking at a tough road ahead. Logan then came around to where the three of them sat and crouched in front of Vanessa. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re in a lot of trouble here. And while I know Robbie brought your case to me, I actually think you would have a much better chance in one of my colleague’s hands.”
“What do you mean?” Vanessa said. “You won’t be doing it? Oh my God, you think I did it.”
“No,” Logan said, and reached for her hands. “I actually don’t. Which is why I want you to meet with this other lawyer.”
“Logan?” Robbie said, and Logan looked over at him. “Is it the money? Because I’m sure I could—”
Logan shook his head adamantly. “Not at all. As much as it pains me to say this, my colleague is much more qualified at cases such as this, and he’s going to be the one who gives you the best chance at a minimal sentence.”
Vanessa sucked in a breath and clamped a hand over her mouth.
“How long are we talking here, Mr. Mitchell?” Cheryl asked.
“It’s hard to tell in situations like this. It helps that Vanessa has no priors. But she’s seventeen, which means if she doesn’t take whatever offer the prosecutor gives—”
“You mean say that I’m guilty?” Vanessa whispered.
“Yes.”
“But I’m not,” she said, and Logan tightened his hands over hers.
“I know. I believe you. But if you say that and this goes to court and the jury doesn’t believe you, you’re looking at a mandatory sentence here.”
“And what’s that?” Cheryl asked.
“For fourteen grams? Anywhere from four to fifteen years.”
“Oh my God,” Robbie said in a voice rife with disbelief.
Logan swallowed and got to his feet. This was a lot to take in, he knew that, and he wanted to give them the time they needed. But before he even got two steps away, he heard Cheryl ask, “What would you do?”
Logan leaned back on the desk and looked at all three of them. “I’d plead guilty. You’ll likely be offered a deal of about a year, but get out in nine months for good behavior.”
“A year?” Vanessa said. “In jail?”
“It’s better than the alternative,” Logan said.
“But I didn’t do it.”
“Which is why risking this and not taking a deal would be a huge gamble.”
“Mr. Mitchell,” Cheryl said, and Logan looked over at her. “This colleague of yours. Is he good?”
Logan thought of the man who was due to meet with him and Cole at eleven, and nodded. “Yes. He’s the best in his area of expertise. In fact, I’m about to meet with him today and would like to present your case to him. If you say yes, that is.”
“So you wouldn’t be involved at all?” Robbie asked.
“I’d follow closely and be there if any of you have any questions.”
The three of
them looked at one another, and Logan headed back behind his desk to give them a moment of privacy. Once he was seated and looked back at them, Cheryl nodded.
“Okay. Robbie trusts you, and it sounds like you know what you’re talking about. Do you think he’ll meet with us? This colleague of yours?”
Logan offered up his most encouraging smile. “I do. Let me talk with him today and then we’ll set something up as soon as possible.”
The three of them got to their feet, and Logan did also so he could shake Cheryl’s hand.
“It was lovely to meet you, even under the circumstances,” she said, and Logan agreed. Robbie had a wonderful family who were obviously supportive of one another. It was such a shame they were caught up in a horrible mess of unfortunate circumstances.
“It was a pleasure to meet you too. I’ll have Sherry call you by this afternoon with more information.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa said, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked terrified, and Logan couldn’t blame her. What she was facing, it was life changing—and not in a good way.
“Robbie, are you coming home with us?” Cheryl asked, and when Logan looked in his direction, Robbie glanced over at the older woman and shook his head.
“No. I’m…I’m going to catch up with Logan for a minute, and then I’m meeting someone for lunch.”
“Oh, okay,” Cheryl said, and put a hand to Vanessa’s back. “Thank you again, Mr. Mitchell. We’ll wait to hear from you.”
“It’s my pleasure. And please don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions.”
“We won’t,” she said, and a few minutes later they were out the door and Logan found himself staring across his desk at Robbie, who’d retaken his seat and was looking everywhere but at him.
Right, time to get to the bottom of this little mystery, he thought, as he came around his desk to Robbie and the seat that had been vacated by his cousin. When he stopped there, Robbie looked up at him, and Logan narrowed his eyes before slowly unbuttoning his jacket and taking a seat. He saw the way Robbie took in a breath and slowly exhaled, and again thought of how astute Tate had been on this particular topic.
“The next time you see him, sit him down, and make him listen to you. I guarantee the second your attention is focused on him and you’re asking him questions, he will tell you anything you want to know.”
Well, it was time to treat Robert the way Robbie was used to being treated. Not with caution and curiosity.
“So, do you have any questions about what I said in here today?” Logan asked, making sure he had Robbie’s attention before he moved on to topics unrelated to his cousin.
Robbie looked over at him, and Logan angled himself in his seat so he was facing Robbie and crossed one of his legs over the other, and yeah, Robbie’s eyes lowered to follow the move.
“Robbie?” Logan said in the most assertive voice he could muster. Robbie’s eyes flew up to his face, and Logan made sure to keep his expression neutral. “Any questions about your cousin?”
Robbie shook his head. “No. I mean, I’m worried about her. But I trust you.”
“Do you?” Logan asked, knowing this would be the perfect segue into what he wanted to discuss.
“Yes. Of course. That’s why I came to you.”
“Okay. Then how about you tell me what’s going on with you?”
Robbie turned his head away, and before Logan thought about it, he leaned over and took Robbie’s chin, bringing his face back around. Robbie’s breath hitched and Logan asked again, “What’s going on with you?”
Robbie licked his lips, about to say something, but before he could, Logan said, “Don’t lie to me.”
“You’re being bossy all of a sudden,” Robbie said, a frown creasing his forehead.
Logan released his chin and sat back. “There isn’t anything sudden about that. You of all people should remember how…bossy I can be.”
Robbie’s eyebrow winged up, haughty and indignant, and right then Logan saw him—the old Robbie.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. I’ll be most disappointed,” Logan said, urging Robbie to respond in any form other than skittish and reserved—and then it happened.
Robbie ran his eyes down over him and bit down on his lip as though he were having a most delicious thought or memory. “No one that’s spent the night with you would ever forget it. Unless they had a lobotomy, and even then, I’m pretty sure Logan Mitchell naked would still be imprinted in their brain forever.”
Logan’s lips quirked and he ran a hand down over his tie. “Welcome back.”
Robbie cocked his head to the side. “Excuse me?”
“I said, welcome back. That’s the Robbie I remember. The one full of sass. The one blatantly undressing me with his eyes.”
“Hey, you’re the one who brought it up.”
Logan glanced down to Robbie’s lap and chuckled. “So I did.”
Robbie’s mouth parted as though he were in shock, and then…then he started laughing and the sound was, well, wonderful.
Once Robbie calmed down, Logan put a hand on his arm and said, “Hey, talk to me, would you? I’m worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me? Why?” Robbie asked.
“I don’t know. You’re acting different. You look worried. Tired—”
“Gee, thanks. What every man wants to hear from someone like you.”
“Robbie…”
Robbie took in a deep breath and then sighed, letting it out on a rush. “Okay. Okay. I’ve just had a rough month. That’s all.”
Logan contemplated him and said, “Rough how?”
“Just a lot of things happening at once,” Robbie said. “Things I can’t control.”
“Such as…”
Robbie got to his feet, and Logan decided to stay put as he started to pace back and forth.
“My boyfriend broke up with me—”
Oh great, Logan thought. If this was all over some dumbass breaking Robbie’s heart, he was so out. He was not the one to counsel someone on things like that.
“Then I lost my job because, of course, he was my boss.” Robbie gave a self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. “And because I had no money coming in, I got behind in rent and got kicked out of my apartment and had to move in with my nonna. My life is a fucking joke, and now I don’t even recognize myself when I look in the mirror.”
“Wait a second,” Logan said, getting to his feet and slipping his hands into his pockets. “You were sleeping with your boss? Robbie, Robbie. You don’t do that because then shit like this happens when it ends.”
“Yeah? Well, he didn’t seem to have a problem with it until everyone found out.”
“What do you mean?” Logan said.
“What I mean is, Nathan was fine screwing me at night as long as no one knew he was getting blown by the out-and-proud, over-the-top Robbie Bianchi who ran his restaurant during the day.”
As Logan stared at Robbie, an uneasy feeling started to settle in his gut. If there was one thing Logan hated, it was closeted assholes who thought it was okay to disparage those brave enough to be who they were and live their lives. And it appeared that whatever happened with this Nathan had left an indelible impression on this once vibrant young man.
“Robbie…”
“I know. It was stupid of me to get involved with my boss. I get it. But he didn’t seem to care about the way I dressed or acted at first.”
“But then it started to change?” Logan asked as he looked over the all-black getup—minus the bright tie. “Did he ask you to maybe tone it down a little?”
“Yeah,” Robbie said, sounding so defeated it made Logan want to find Nathan and— “So I thought maybe if I went with the natural hair color and less flashy clothes that maybe he’d take me back. But I guess he didn’t like this look either.”
“Then that’s his fucking loss,” Logan said. “No matter how you looked. This way or the old way. The Robbie I remember was fun and outgoing.” When
Robbie shrugged, Logan added, “He was also a master at giving head.”
Robbie’s eyebrow arched at that compliment, and then that cheeky smile of his snuck right back through. “A master, huh? Better than Tate?”
“Nice try,” Logan said. “But no one I’ve met has ever given me better head than Tate. And now he’s had years, and endless opportunities, to perfect his craft.”
“I can’t believe you’re with the same guy after all this time. You’re obviously infatuated,” Robbie said, and rolled his eyes.
And it was so like the Robbie he remembered that Logan couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “One hundred percent.”
“Huh,” Robbie said, sizing him up. “I’d almost be jealous if I hadn’t sworn off the whole love notion.”
“Have you sworn off sex, then?”
“What? No way.”
“Then you should be jealous of that too. He’s fucking great at it.”
Robbie crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. “It’s not very nice to gloat.”
“You know me, I’m never nice.”
“I do remember that. But that’s when you’re at your best.”
“Damn right,” Logan said, and then tapped a finger to his chin. “You know what, before you leave, I have an idea. One second.”
Logan headed around his desk and picked up his cell phone, and then, hitting the last dialed number, he brought it to his ear and gestured with a tilt of his chin that Robbie should take a seat. Two seconds later, his call was answered. “Good morning, Mr. Morrison.”
Robbie’s eyes widened; he was obviously cluing in to who Logan had just called. But Logan merely smiled at Robbie and took his own seat, rocking back behind the desk as he listened to Tate’s reply.
“Hmm. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Logan said, though he was anything but. “Remind me again tonight, and we’ll see if I can make it up to you. But before you continue to distract me, I called for a reason. I have a question for you.” There was a pause, and Robbie frowned, but Logan just continued to aim a knowing smile his way.
Two things had become crystal clear in the last five minutes. The first being that Robbie had clearly been affected by whatever that asshole had said to him during the breakup, judging by his radically altered outward appearance. And the second was that Logan just might have a solution to at least two of Robbie’s problems. “Are you still interviewing for that position of yours?”
