by Janey Mack
“Gonna answer that?” he said.
“Uh, sure.” I pulled open the front door.
“How’s my favorite multimedia star?” Lee Sharpe asked, looking cut and powerful in an olive-drab tee and jeans. A dozen long-stemmed pink roses in his hand.
Why do I ever even bother getting out of bed in the morning?
“Uh . . . Hi, Lee,” I said, stiff with shock as he thrust the flowers into my hands. “You shouldn’t have.”
Lee stepped inside, dipped his head, and kissed my cheek. “I didn’t.” He smiled and clicked his tongue. “They’re for your mom.”
Seriously? Just for tonight, could one guy around here not be the epitome of cool?
“Hiya,” Lee said throwing a two-fingered mock salute to Hank over my head.
Hank tipped his head back in a half nod.
Lee glanced back at me, eyes narrowed. “Ooookay,” he said, chucked me under the chin, and walked right on into the family room. “Hey, Cash!”
I guess he’s been here before. I shrugged at Hank.
“Bullitt?”
“I don’t know why he’s here.” I put my hand on the door and started to close it.
“I do.” Hank caught the door above me. He leaned down and kissed me, slow and easy and the world stood still.
He lifted his head and I swayed. Imperceptibly, thank God.
“Quit.” And then he was gone.
Ernesto hustled out of the family room into the foyer. “Madre de Dios, Maisie.” He looked at the roses and rolled his eyes before jerking open the door. “What the hell is happening with you?” He shoved my phone into the flowers and, not bothering to wait for an answer, went after Hank, slamming the door behind him.
How the heck should I know?
I slumped against it, the iPhone warm in my hand. And what exactly have you been up to, Ernesto?
I tapped the call log on my phone. He’d made a fifty-six-minute-and-fifteen-second call.
To Leticia Jackson. Madre de Dios was right.
I took one of the two empty seats left at the far end of the kitchen counter. Thierry slid a plate of pizza and glass of beer in front of me.
“Here she is, lads,” Declan the sinner called from the pool table. “Put it up, Cash. Let’s see how many hits she’s up to.”
He did it without so much as a blink of conscience.
“Whoo-hooo!” shouted a friend of Flynn’s as Allegra’s video trumped the game on the big screen. “134,238 hits. Bigger than Miley, baby!”
Lovely.
Amidst the catcalls and wolf whistles, Allegra’s three-and-a-half-minute story played again for what felt like thirty years. “Yo, Maisie! What’s Allegra’s number?” Koji called out as it finally ended, deflecting some of the ribbing. “I’ll take her on a ride-along.”
Whatever.
I felt a hand on my back and turned on my stool.
“How you doing?” Lee sat down next to me and gave me a considering once-over.
“Great.” I raised my beer. “Embracing my infamy as the upchucking meter maid.”
“Not to be PC or anything, but I think Puking Parking Enforcement Agent has a nicer cadence.”
I socked him in the arm with a decent amount of pepper.
“Aw, Maisie.” Lee drummed his fingers on the bar. “Was that insensitive? There’s no such thing as bad publicity, baby,” he said, sounding eerily like Sterling Black. “Have you even considered where it could take you?”
“Thrill me.”
“Maisie brand airsick bags.” He grinned. “You could pitch Dramamine—no wait—ipecac.”
I laughed. “Aren’t you as sweet as an angel’s sigh?”
He’s a little funny. A very little.
His face turned serious. “Maisie, I—”
Daicen’s head popped in between us as he draped an arm over each of our shoulders. “All hail Maisie’s legal representation.” He playfully ground his chin into the top of my head. “Sorry to cut this short, Snap, but it’s time to turn in. We’ve got some heavy-level negotiating tomorrow.” He straightened and faced the sprawling family room filled with guys playing pool and video games, eating and drinking, Italian music blaring with ESPN muted on the multiple television screens.
I showed Lee the splayed fingers of resignation and slid off the stool.
Lee caught my wrist. “Sleep tight,” he said, voice smoky. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“Funny,” I said. “I was sort of hoping they’d eat me alive.”
The party, as expected, was still going strong at 5:45 a.m. I could hear the faint clatter of Foosball and echo of deep voices from the basement rec room. Guys who work the third shift never know when to go home.
I got into Daicen’s silver sedan, jittery as a junkie, nerves vibrating off the windows “Dai, about this meeting . . .”
He put his sunglasses on and backed out of the garage. “You want the video buried so you can serve out your meter maid sentence, which you hope will overturn the psych diagnosis, eventually leading to your reinstatement at the Police Academy?”
“How did you—”
“I am the clever one.” Daicen flexed his fingers. “Although I highly doubt the rest of the clan’s in the dark.” He started the car and waited until I was latched before driving out of the gate.
“I will extricate you from this circumstance with a minimum amount of fuss.” Daicen tuned his iPod to static. “White noise,” he said. “Remarkably effective for focus.”
Works for me. I didn’t feel like talking anyway.
Daicen hummed sporadically along, thriving in the not quite quiet, which I hoped was working like a shot of Adderall to his Einstein.
We pulled into the parking garage. He took off his sunglasses, face grave. “Wherever I lead, you follow. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
We rode up in the Dhu West elevator. Me wishing I felt as fierce as I looked in my black on black Nanette Lepore suit, and Daicen, sleek and keen in navy Calvin Klein with a crisp white shirt, navy and silver rep tie, and black Jack Georges briefcase.
I shifted my weight from side to side on my stilettos.
Would whoever took my life, please return it to its full and uptight position?
The tiniest creases appeared at the corners of my brother’s ebony eyes and his mouth twitched. He was an eye-smiler, never with his mouth. Like our grandpa. “A piece of cake, Snap.”
The elevator dinged when we hit the thirty-second floor. The doors opened. Sterling’s brunette led us into a stylish meeting room where we shook hands, traded shark smiles, and after accepting unwanted cappuccinos, sat down.
“So.” Sterling’s gaze drifted over Daicen, sizing him up. “What firm do you work for again?”
“Corrigan, Douglas and Pruitt.”
“Haven’t heard of them.” Sterling shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. He craned his head toward the blonde. “Why don’t you ask Bliss to sit in?” He turned back to Daicen. “What do they specialize in?”
“A little civil, a little criminal. Nothing fancy,” Daicen said.
“Don’t be modest,” the redhead said, slinking into the room. “Corrigan, Douglas and Pruitt are one hundred percent badass.”
My brother got to his feet. “Daicen McGrane.”
“Bliss Adair.”
And I thought Maisie was bad. At least my parents hadn’t named me with the lofty aspiration that I might one day become a stripper.
She eased down into the chair across from my brother and slowly crossed a pair of great legs.
“A close family,” Sterling said. “I like it.”
“That’s not entirely all.” Daicen let his eyes slide over Bliss. Almost insolently. Which was weird. Because he was definitely not that guy. “I’ve always had an interest in celebrity representation.”
Since when?
“Where better to start than family?” Bliss teased. “It’s not like they can fire you.”
Sterling flipped open a black leather portfolio.
“Let’s get down to it, shall we? I take it there are some contractual agreements you’d like to discuss.”
“With less than two months’ experience,” Daicen said, “Maisie’s not qualified to represent the Traffic Enforcement Bureau on a national stage.”
“I disagree. Your sister is one of Dhu West’s rising stars,” Bliss purred at Daicen. “And more importantly, we are talking about a physical altercation with a prominent city official. If she doesn’t go on and present her side of the story, the backlash against the other parking enforcement agents will be devastating.”
“An astute observation.” His eyes never left hers as he continued in a soft, offhanded voice. “Of course, filing formal charges against Talbott Cottle Coles will have the same effect.”
“Unfortunately, it won’t,” Sterling said. “And Dhu West would prefer you didn’t.”
“Oh?”
“We’re severing ties with Coles. We’d prefer a clean break.” Sterling gave my brother an appraising look. “This is a tremendous opportunity.”
“Alone? On a national stage? I consider that a tremendous risk.”
Bliss took the bait. “What if someone accompanied her?”
Daicen turned to me. “How does that strike you?”
I bit my lip and raised a shoulder. He put an arm around me and pulled a patronizing face at Sterling and Bliss. “Is there an office we could step into for a moment?”
“Don’t be silly.” Sterling stood. “I need to check a couple calls. Take as much time as you need.”
Daicen half-rose out of his chair in politeness and they left, closing the door behind them. He glanced pointedly at the ceiling. Camera’d and mike’d, no doubt.
Let the show begin.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who would you like to accompany you?”
He hadn’t found any wiggle room.
“Jennifer Lince.” She’d appropriate my interview faster than a scalded dog.
“A non-starter,” he said. “Dhu West will want to present a more diverse ethnicity.”
“My only other supervisor is Leticia Jackson and they won’t want her.”
“Why not?”
“Leticia’s about as colorful as a steamroller in a gay pride parade and twice as loud.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I won’t go on alone.”
“I’ll do my best.” He nodded, face solemn, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why don’t you run along, tell Mr. Black and that heavenly Bliss I’m ready, and wait for me in the lobby.”
An hour and a half later, Daicen walked out—all handshakes and smiles and let’s-play-squash.
Bliss slipped out as Sterling went back in the office, sidled up to Daicen, and placed her business card in the breast pocket of his jacket.
Daicen covered his pocket with his palm.
You want some cheese with that ham sandwich?
“’Bye, now.” Bliss threw him a pose that would’ve earned the Snap-on Tools calendar stamp of approval and sashayed back into the conference room.
Dream on, Reddi-wip.
Daicen covered his mouth, half-laughing until we hit the lobby. He waited until we were back in the car in the dim underground parking ramp before saying anything. He took Bliss’s card out of his pocket, flicked it back and forth across his finger. “Exactly as expected.”
“Oh yeah?”
He held up the card. “Shall I pass this on to Declan? Let him rattle her cage a bit while we fly to New York tomorrow?” He tossed it onto the dash.
“What?” I banged my head against the headrest. “I thought you were going to get me out of this.” Cold sweat filmed on my back.
Nice. My new Nanette Lepore would be taking the nonstop straight to the dry cleaners.
“I said I’d extricate you from the situation with the least amount of fuss. What did you think?” He sighed and put his sunglasses on. “That I have the Time Bandits locked in my trunk on retainer? That we’d nip back in time and unhook the boot?”
“Me going on a national morning show is nothing but fuss,” I ground out.
“You still have your job and a shot at reinstatement.” He fished a pack of Wint-O-Green Life Savers out of the cup holder, put one between his teeth, and offered them to me.
“No thanks.”
“Maisie,” Daicen said around the candy he held between his teeth. “If you do as I say, your celebrity will last no longer than the triboluminescent effect of this Life Saver.” He crunched the candy, emitting a tiny blue-white spark.
I wish.
I let my breath out in a slow exhale. “Thanks for today. I’m sorry, I really do appreciate your help.”
“Now, now,” he said pleasantly. “I am the nice one.”
“Gosh. There’s got to be something I can do to repay you . . .” I picked Bliss’s business card off the dash. “Why, I know! I’ll have Mom invite Bliss over for dinner.”
“As your preferred brother and newly signed agent, I was prepared to charge you a discounted rate of ten percent.” He plucked the card from my fingers and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take thirty. Gross.”
I laughed as we drove out of the parking ramp. “Now what?”
“Call Leticia. Tell her the good news.”
Chapter 29
“This better be good, McGrane,” Leticia warned. “Calling me so early an’ shit on a Saturday morning.”
It was five minutes to ten. “Have you seen it?”
“You mean the video where Mayor Coles assault-n-batteries your weak ass and you throw up on yourself to get him back?”
“That’d be the one.”
Leticia laughed. “How ’bout I get Niecy and meet you at Butch’s to figure out how to save your lily-white onion?”
An infinitesimal lump formed in my throat.
“Hold up.” Leticia’s voice turned suspicious. “You ain’t thinking about quitting on me, now? Cuz, I ain’t in the mood to go shopping for another marine, you dig?”
Easily swallowed.
“Are you in the mood to fly to New York tomorrow and appear with me on the Good Day USA show Monday morning?”
Silence.
A lot of it.
“You comin’ at me correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
Her scream of excitement was so shrill I dropped the phone.
Daicen met us on the sidewalk, opening the gate. He stowed Leticia’s bags in the trunk, installed her in the front seat, and closed the passenger door behind her.
“Damn, you know some fine-looking boys, McGrane,” Leticia said, watching my brother come ’round the hood.
“Anyone in particular?” I asked innocently, opening the door to talk about Ernesto.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Yes, actually, I would.
Daicen got in and started the car.
“You’re rollin’ in a tight whip.” Leticia ran her hand along the center console. “What do you do, anyways?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
Leticia shot me a look over her shoulder. I nodded in confirmation that he was, indeed, a lawyer.
“We be grown women, so why ’zactly you coming along to New York?”
My brother tipped his head up and looked at me in the rearview mirror. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes through his Smith Optics, I knew he was smiling. “I’m Maisie’s agent.”
“Her what?” Leticia’s chin hit her chest.
She wrestled around in her seat, fighting the seat belt to face me. “I thought this was all Dhu West. You didn’t spill you be getting famous.” She threw a small head bob my way, then readjusted herself back in the gray leather seat. “Needin’ an agent. Shit, what am I? The jankey-ass Robin to your Batman?”
“Not at all, Ms. Jackson,” Daicen said calmly. “Maisie’s humiliation is merely one of those moments where others find it necessary to offer her an opportunity to further her embarrassment for money.”
“Is she payin’ you?”
“Of course,” Daicen said.
“How much?”
Or not. My brother wasn’t laughing. “Ten percent.”
“Oh yeah? I heard agents take fifteen.”
“It’s a discounted rate. We are related, after all.”
Leticia rolled her tongue in her cheek. “You think I need an agent?”
“I don’t know,” Daicen said. “Do you?”
She smoothed the orange fabric of her capris. “What would you charge to represent me?”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, considering. “Ten percent.”
Leticia chewed that over for a minute. “No. You best take the fifteen.”
“That’s up to you, Ms. Jackson.” He gave me another rearview mirror full of sunglasses. “May I ask why?”
“Cuz I don’t want no strings if I gotta fire your ass for salting my game.”
“Agreed.” Daicen held out his hand and Leticia shook it.
“You got any talk radio in this ride?”
Sterling Black’s PR machine had muscle behind the makeup. We flew to New York first-class, had the Dhu West limo at our disposal, and spent the night in the gorgeous James Hotel. At least I did. Leticia couldn’t fathom staying in, and my brother was more than happy to entertain his new client.
I called Flynn after a decadent room service dinner. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself, Snap. Calling for a case update or just to hear my voice?”
“Both.”
“Sure.” He snorted. “The memorial IDs are a slow slog. I swung by the Local #56 and got a reception colder than dry ice.”
“Surprised, were you?”
“Hardly.” He chuckled. “I traced the phone number on the back of the picture.”
“And?”
“It belongs to The Storkling. A private club owned by a shell corporation with ties to the Veterattis. But it’s a helluva thing, trying not to trip any of the BOC’s alarms. Or Da’s.”
There was a long pause. I knew exactly what he was thinking. “I’ve told you all I can, Flynn. Hank and I aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye lately.”
