by Shenda Paul
"I've apologized for that," I remind her quietly.
"You did, and I’ve accepted your apology. I'm sorry." She blushes beautifully.
"I do believe you qualified it by saying you still resent me to a degree." I try to take the sting out of our conversation.
"Go ahead and say what you want, Adam, and please call me Angelique."
"Angelique…" I savor the way it rolls off my tongue. "I know you resent me and probably don't want to have anything to do with me, but I'd like to get to know you."
She blanches, her face turning bone-white. "Are you soliciting me? You've made it patently clear what you think of me, but weren't you the one damning others for doing what you’ve just suggested? You’re such a hypocrite!"
"That's not what I meant," I hiss quietly and instinctively reach for her hand. She pulls back, eyes glistening with moisture, and I mentally kick myself for my past callousness.
"Angelique, please..." I appeal, too afraid to continue in case she walks away.
"What did you mean?" she finally asks.
"I would never ask that of you; I'd never demean you in that way," I say earnestly. "I…I'd like to be your friend."
"Why?" Her question stops me short. I can't just blurt out how I feel. "Would it satisfy you, for now, if I just said that I understand your situation more than you think?" Her hesitation in responding worries me.
"And I really would like to be your friend?" I add persuasively.
"Friend?" she questions skeptically.
"Yes, Angelique, friend. Like I’ve said, it's a good start."
Her eyes swirl with so much emotion, I’m unable to decipher what she's thinking, what she's looking for, as she stares back at me. Blood rushes through my veins like a torrent; I swear I hear it pounding in my ears as I anxiously wait.
"Adam?" Matt’s voice startles me. I curse him inwardly for his bad timing.
"What?" I ask brusquely.
"Our tables are ready," he replies, and Angelique moves instantly to retrieve her small bag from the tabletop.
"We'll be there in a minute," I dismiss him, but he obtusely remains.
I assist Angelique down from her stool. The surge of heat I feel touching her wrist is astounding. Her eyes widen for an infinitesimal moment, and I wonder whether she felt it too, but she rejoins our group without any acknowledgment that she had.
Samuel comes over to say goodbye, and I extend my hand. "It was good meeting you, Samuel. Thank you for talking to Angelique."
"You're welcome," he answers, marginally tightening his grip on my hand. "I hope you're not trying to use her because if you are…"
"I'm not wanting to or going to use her…ever," I reply, looking him straight in the eye. He nods, seemingly satisfied.
"Have a safe trip home," I tell him, and he finally smiles as we drop our hands. I wish Mandi a pleasant trip then before turning back to Angelique, who’s in the process of saying goodbye Jodi.
"Will you think about what I said?" I ask, ignoring Jodi’s blatant interest.
"I will," Angelique replies after an agonizing moment of hesitation.
One step at a time, I remind myself as I watch her walk away.
.
.
The next morning at work is hectic. Jodi, Tess and I meet to discuss and finalize strategy for the Cordi henchmen's trials. Jodi and I met with their attorneys some days before and refused to plea-bargain, conceding only to document their cooperation. I wasn’t interested in negotiating with people who’ve been responsible for the misery and possible deaths of innocents. Given the incriminating documents and the quantity of drugs seized from their homes, their trials should, in my view, be pretty cut and dried. By lunchtime, Tess is fully briefed and ready to take over, freeing Jodi to concentrate on the Cordi brothers’ trials.
Silvio and Enzo’s attorneys have agreed to a co-defendant trial, and the courts have ruled a joinder to be fair, given the overlap in charges and evidence to be heard. A trial date’s been set for the week after that of Moretti, Barnes, and McGill, and we’re quietly confident that we have enough evidence and witness testimonies to secure a conviction in all of their cases.
Joseph's trial is scheduled to start eight weeks after that of his brothers’. We, of course, plan on presenting essentially the same evidence in support of the drug charges, and our witness list currently includes Moretti, Barnes, and McGill. On the prostitution-related charges, we plan on calling Carmen Bonacci, Samantha Perkins, and possibly two other women from his list of sex workers. Jon, meanwhile, believes that interstate authorities are closing in on O'Flaherty. I have no doubt that, once caught, he'll cooperate.
Then there's the ongoing Riviera investigation that Jon's working hard to bring to a close. Perez is still at large, with two young women, we’ve been told. We strongly suspect one to be Maria. As evidence of his involvement in the guard’s murder mounts, Texas authorities are becoming increasingly desperate to find him. The ramifications for Joseph, should Perez face a murder charge, is great because he will almost certainly be extradited to Texas and tried for murder.
We return to our own offices, each with a list and a clear understanding of what we need to do. I’m pleased to see Tess back to her professional self and feel confident that, between the three of us, we'll effectively manage the workload. It's ten forty-five a.m., the first time since leaving home just after six that I've had a chance for a break. It's also the first time I've consciously allowed myself to think about last night's dinner.
Our two parties were seated at tables so far apart that I lost sight of Angelique. That fact left me feeling oddly deflated, but I valiantly tried to get into the spirit of my companions’ upbeat mood. I glanced around the restaurant as we left, but Angelique and her friends had already departed. My feeling of disappointment remained until I fell into another dream-laden sleep. I woke wondering just how and when I could arrange to see her again, then became even more anxious at the realization that she's yet to decide whether or not she wants to be friends.
I comforted myself with the thought that there’s at least something I could do right away. With that thought in mind, I pick up my phone.
"Sweetheart, how nice to hear from you," Mom greets me on the first ring. "Did you enjoy dinner?"
"We had a great time. I missed you and Dad, though."
"Thanks, Adam, but you needed to be surrounded by your friends. I worry that you're becoming a hermit."
"I'm just not interested in socializing too much right now, Mom. I still have several trials to get through."
"Just don't become too much of a workaholic, Adam."
"I won't, I promise."
"Good, and I hope you're not feeling too disappointed about the verdict. Your dad and I both agree that, short of a conviction, it’s probably the best outcome."
"I'm disappointed, of course, but I'm not obsessing over it."
"I'm glad to hear that. Cait called this morning, and we're coming over to cook on Saturday. Now, it's not that I don't love hearing from my son, but I know you, Adam. Something's up; what is it?"
I chuckle at how well she knows me. "I have something I'd like to discuss with you; can I buy you lunch?"
"Is everything all right?" she asks, her light tone turning to instant concern.
"Everything’s fine, Mom. I want to run an idea past you. I can come over to your part of town; how about twelve-thirty?"
"It's a lovely day, why don’t we get some sandwiches and sit in the park?"
"Sounds good, I'll bring the food. I’ll see you soon," I say before hanging up.
"Adam," Bec calls out from my doorway. "Thomas Martin’s on the phone. He wants to make an appointment."
I've been expecting him to contact me, but I anticipated a phone call, not a request for a meeting. "I'm going to be out until around two. What's the rest of my day looking like?"
"Tess confirmed three
witness depositions; they're scheduled at forty minute intervals, starting at two-thirty."
"What about tomorrow?"
"You're available until ten."
"Tell Mr. Martin I can see him at eight-thirty."
"If he agrees, I'll just add it your diary; check there, will you?"
"Will do; thanks, Bec." I don’t waste any time wondering about what Tom wants. I already have a pretty good idea.
.
.
"Ready for your water?" I ask, lifting the bottle.
"Thanks," Mom smiles as I remove the cap and hand it to her. She’s still so pretty with her shiny, auburn hair, unlined skin, and hazel eyes, which are now scrutinizing me carefully.
"What did you want to discuss?"
"I'm thinking about opening a recreation center for underprivileged kids, and I want to include a ballet studio."
"Underprivileged children always need facilities, but why a ballet studio?"
"I'd like to help a new friend of mine, well someone I hope to befriend. She taught ballet, but recently lost her job."
A small frown mars Mom’s face. "What friend? Tell me what's really going on, Adam."
I fill her in on what’s publicly known about Angelique, and as much as I know Mom would be fascinated by the fact that she’d debuted in Europe and that she’d be appalled by her tragic accident, I don't relate those details. Angelique, for whatever reason, has chosen not to publicly reveal that information, not even to excuse her decision to work for Joseph. I won’t rob her of any more of her privacy.
"This is the girl from the trial, the one who was Justin’s escort?" Mom perceptively asks. I nod.
"Why her, Adam? I’ve gathered that she’s been taken advantage of, but you've met many people in the course of doing your job who’ve needed help. Why this young woman?"
It would be useless trying to lie to Mom, she knows me too well; besides, I want her to know, so I relate my first encounter with Angelique. She, at least, doesn’t laugh out loud; her eyes, however, tell me she’s highly amused.
"When I saw her through that two-way mirror, I had such a visceral response. I felt disgust at her occupation and even greater revulsion for the effect she had on me, but I’ve been unable to stop my growing feelings.
"I warred with myself until I talked to you about Eleanor. Accepting that she'd been a victim made me see Angelique in a new light. It was during my cross-examination first of her and then Justin that I finally accepted that my attraction is more than physical, but she dislikes me and doesn't trust me because I've been such a bastard to her. I can't walk away, though, Mom, and it kills me to think that she’s lost her teaching job because of this trial. The thought of her having to go back to selling herself drives me insane."
I realize I'm rambling, so I finally clamp my mouth shut.
"You love her," Mom calmly announces.
"No…I…" Rattled, I stare off into the distance. Mom remains silent, patiently waiting for me to process my thoughts. "I think I'm falling in love with her," I eventually admit.
"Oh darling, I think you may be way past falling."
"Do you know why she got into prostitution?" she asks when I don’t respond.
"Not really. She didn't know what she was getting into when she was first hired, then later, when told what was expected of her, she refused and was fired. The need for money, reportedly, made her return, but her reasons don't matter right now, all I want to do is help her. I want to ensure that whatever situation made her desperate enough to resort to prostitution doesn't happen again."
"Adam, have you really considered what getting involved with an ex-prostitute would mean?"
"I have, Mom, but I can't walk away from her, not when there's even the remotest possibility of her one day returning my feelings. I know this isn’t the kind of relationship you envisaged for me…"
"All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy," she interrupts me. "You can't help who you fall in love with, Adam. I just want you to be prepared for what could happen if you pursue this relationship. It would be so much easier for her to slip into obscurity if she kept out of the public eye; your high-profile job and near celebrity status would make that impossible. And life for you would be easier if you were with a woman without such a colorful past."
"Believe me, I've considered every scenario, Mom, and the only one that sends me into a state of panic is the one where, by some stroke of luck, there’s a possibility that Angelique could one day return my feelings, and I failed to fight for her."
"As long as you're sure, sweetheart. We’ll support you in anything you decide."
Having said her piece Mom returns our conversation to the center and, as I knew she would, provides good insights into how we can make it work and what kind of ancillary services would benefit the kids and the families I want to help. As we prepare to leave, Mom hugs me tightly.
"Just think deeply about the ramifications of starting a relationship with Angelique; not only for you but also for her," she cautions me once more.
"Any discussion about a future for us is premature, Mom. She hasn't even decided if she’d like to be friends. She resents me."
"You just have to let her get to know you, Adam."
"If only it were that simple."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Did you enter into the agreement willingly, Mr. Walsh?" Tess asks.
"I said no, but they torched my van. The next night, they threw a brick through my shop window with a note saying my shop was next, and then my house."
"Do you know who wrote the note?"
"I knew it was Fico because the next day he came to see if I changed my mind. I was worried about my family; what if they torched my house, what if my grandchildren were there? So I paid him."
"Why didn't you go to the police?" she asks.
"And say what? Fico would just deny it, and things would’ve got worse."
Tess is questioning Lorcan Walsh, the sixty-four-year-old owner of a small bakery; I'm merely here to observe and listen. Lorcan, like the two business owners interviewed before him, had been intimidated to pay protection money. Ironic, really, when the only protection they needed was from the men offering it.
Based on the information received from Lorcan and our earlier interviewees, I’ll be adding extortion and blackmail to the charges the Cordi brothers, Moretti, and Barnes will face. The trial for Moretti and his co-defendants starts on Wednesday of next week; we’re slowly, but surely, making progress in finally putting these criminals behind bars where they belong.
.
.
That night, when I get home, I place a call to Toby Lewis, the realtor who found the building that’s now my home. I tell him about my plans for the center and then discuss requirements and possible locations. He assures me that he'll start looking immediately, and just before ending the call, in a bid to avoid premature media speculation, I ask him not mention my name to any prospective sellers.
I can't help the sense of anticipation bubbling up in me. The idea for a community center germinated when I considered ways of constructively helping Angelique. My original idea was to open a ballet school for underprivileged kids, but the more I thought about it, the more excited I became at the prospect of doing more.
My primary concern, however, remains how to get Angelique to consider an offer of help. I hate that her most recent experiences, and her rightful wariness because of the role I played in her public humiliation, renders me incapable of simply offering help, one human being to another. I won't lie or hide my involvement in the center, but I’ve concluded that I can't be the one to offer her employment.
I’m still pondering my dilemma when my phone rings. I answer, anticipating it to be Cait out to hound me about details about my conversation with Angelique last night. Lisa Delaney's voice echoes down the line instead "You've been neglecting me," she playfully accuses.
"Hi, Lisa. I'm sorry, but I've been rather busy."
"Too busy for friends, Adam?"
"Too busy for just about everything," I reply, bristling at her interrogative tone.
"Apparently not everything. A friend says she saw you at Deuxave last night."
"Your friend probably did."
"So, you do have time to socialize." She tries to sound light-hearted, but I detect the underlying note of reprimand.
"What exactly are you trying to say, Lisa. I have a lot to do, and I don't have time for games."
"Oh, Adam, ease up, I was only joking; and as I remember, you like my games," she says seductively.
"Lisa, I really am busy…"
"Why don’t we have dinner?" she interrupts. "I'll cook. It sounds inconceivable, I know, but I can cook. We'll have a lovely dinner, enjoy some good wine, and I'll take care of all your needs. "
"Sorry, Lisa, I can't."
"Can't or won't?" This is too reminiscent of conversations I'd had with Jaclyn. Then, I felt guilty and tried to be a gentleman when what I should have done was disabuse her of any notion she held about things getting serious.
And look how that turned out! I remind myself. I refuse to fall into the same trap, and as much as I hate being discourteous to a woman, particularly one I’ve been intimate with, I fear I need to be blunt.
"I don't want to," I tell her." I'm sorry, Lisa, but I've been frank with you from the outset. We’ve enjoyed some mutually good times, but I don't think we should see each other in that capacity again. I like you, and I'd like to remain friends," I add more gently.
"Who was she, Adam?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The woman you couldn't take your eyes off. Madison Tate said she'd never seen you look at anyone the way you were looking at that woman."
"Madison Tate is an inveterate gossip. She saw me having dinner with some colleagues and my sister and her husband."
"Don't get angry, Adam. You should know that I really like you; well, I more than like you. We'd make such a good couple, and it would be a good move for both of us, don't you think?"
