“That’s what Sam said,” Sean replied. “Come on, let’s go inside and see what’s what.”
I let Sean lead me inside the restaurant, and was met with a scene of controlled chaos. Donnie was stomping in and out of a swinging door, which I assumed led to the kitchen. Melody was standing near the bar, looking over paperwork while ignoring a blond man who was persistently talking at her. I spied Astrid standing near the tables, and made a beeline toward her.
“Astrid,” I greeted. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“You too.” We hugged, and something inside me unwound; while I still didn’t want to be back in the city, seeing Astrid and Donnie putting their life together, with this restaurant and otherwise, eased me somewhat.
“Have you already decided on this location?” I asked. “I saw the sign out front.”
Astrid rolled her eyes. “No one’s chosen anything, but Donnie think’s this place is perfect all because the restaurant is already called Donato’s. Men.” She glanced at my midsection. “So, Britt tells me you’re expecting?”
“I am,” I replied; just like with my last pregnancy, I got to endure the general public’s knowledge of how it came about. “And you must be what, four months along by now?”
“Five,” Astrid replied, with a hand on her small, but very round, belly. “Donnie’s been freaking out. It’s so cute.”
“I love it when the men get all protector-like.” I glanced over at Sean and called, “Sean, come over and say hello to Astrid.” After Sean had wandered over and said his hellos, I asked, “Will Britt and Sam be by soon?”
“I think so,” Astrid said. She looked like she would have said more, but Donnie picked that moment to burst out of the swinging doors. He stalked over to Astrid’s side, muttering the entire way.
“I don’t know about this, babe,” Donnie said. “The staff ain’t listening to a single thing I say. It’s like they already hate working for me, and I don’t even own the place yet.”
“I’m sure they’re just nervous,” Astrid said. “Donnie, you remember Britt’s parents, Cindy and Sean? You met them at Britt and Sam’s wedding. Britt invited them along for tonight’s dinner.”
Donnie looked at Sean and me and blinked rapidly; he’d been so worked up over whatever happened in the kitchen he really hadn’t noticed us. “Of course I do,” he said. “How are you, Mrs…?” Donnie looked from me to Sean. “Um, what should I call you now?”
“Cindy is fine.” I smiled at Donnie, since it wasn’t his fault we were all stuck in this awkward situation. That guilt rested squarely on my and Sean’s shoulders. “These must be exciting times for you, what with a new baby and a new restaurant on the way.”
Donnie grinned. “Exciting ain’t the word for it.” There was a loud crash followed by shouting in the kitchen, and Donnie started swearing in two languages. “Excuse me,” he growled, then he stalked back to the kitchen.
Astrid looked at me and shrugged. “Like I said, he is really set on this place. I told him he can name any location he picks Donato’s, but he’s got this stubborn streak.”
“Maybe he really likes the sign,” I said. While Astrid and I laughed, Melody joined us.
“I don’t know if I can work with him,” Melody said, her eyes throwing daggers at the blond man standing by the bar. “He is completely, totally clueless. He makes me look like I have a wealth of life experience.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“That’s Gabe, Christa’s son,” Astrid replied. “Christa, as in the owner of Thirty-Nine and Twelve, Donnie’s business partner, and the lady funding fifty-five percent of this second location.”
“Oh.” I looked at Gabe; he was tall and thin, and had a deep tan along with a head of tousled blond hair. He looked more like one of those surfer boy models than a restaurant professional. “Is he going to work here as well?”
“He is most definitely part of the deal,” Astrid replied. “Donnie thinks Christa’s trying to get rid of him. Gabe, that is, not Donnie.”
“I wholeheartedly agree with that,” Melody said. “No one with any sense would want him around. What’s worse is that he’s gotten it in his head that he’ll be the assistant manager, as in my assistant. I don’t need an assistant!” Melody shot a glare in Gabe’s direction. “What I need is a drink.”
“We’ll get you one,” Astrid said, then she gestured for us to follow her. “Donnie has a table set up for us in the back room. Let’s all sit down, and give him one less thing to stress out about.”
The bell over the door chimed, signaling Britt and Sam’s arrival. Britt’s gaze alighted on Sean and she went straight into his arms.
“That bad?” Sean asked.
“I hate all of this stupid legal stuff,” she said into his shoulder.
“I know, pumpkin,” Sean said. “Don’t worry too much over it. This’ll all be over soon.”
Britt drew back and frowned at him. “You really think so?”
Sean smiled, and tucked a strand of hair behind Britt’s ear. “Yeah, I do.”
Sam looked at me and offered a smile. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Well enough,” I replied. “Come on, there’s a table already set up for us.”
As the four of us turned toward our table, Sean’s reassurances rang in my ears. As much as I wanted this nonsense over as soon as possible, I didn’t think it would be quick. I had a feeling there was long road ahead of us.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Cindy
Present Day
Sean and I arrived at Beth Marconi’s office shortly after eight on Tuesday morning. Britt and Sam made their appearance a few minutes later. After Beth gave the four of us a high-level explanation about what we should expect during Patrick’s press conference, Britt and Sam stepped out to get us some coffee; based on the stress lines around Britt’s mouth, Sam was taking her for a walk to calm her down a bit. I could have used one of those walks too.
“I still don’t understand why Pat is holding a press conference,” Sean said after the kids left. “Press conferences are for the rich and famous, not regular people like us.”
“He is holding this conference for one singular reason, and that is to generate negative attention for Britt and Sam,” Beth replied. “To get a trial date for a simple defamation of character suit will take him months, if not years. Sullivan wants to make a splash now.”
“Great,” I said. “Now Patrick’s working on his showmanship. Maybe he’ll start up a new career as a sideshow hawker.”
“We can only hope,” Beth said. “And lest you forget, these four are famous, at least here in the city.”
“She’s right,” I said, when Sean raised an eyebrow. “Everyone knows who Nash Williams is; at least, those who follow the current arts scene do. Ever since everything happened with Britt last fall, and he was arrested along with his brother, Britt’s been the hottest model in the city.”
“Don’t forget the article about Britt that was on that gossip website,” Beth said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Those images are what made her notorious in the first place.”
Sean looked at me. “Britt’s notorious?”
“Beth, I really don’t think Sean needs to see—”
“Here they are,” she announced, and turned her monitor toward us. Beth had called up the world’s most infamous gossip site, If The Shoe Fits, and an article they’d published about an incident at an art gallery last fall. The image of Sam punching Ben, the older Williams brother, took up almost the entire screen. Sean frowned, then he saw the top edge of the next picture in the gallery.
“Scroll down,” he said. Beth did, and Sean saw the image of Britt and Sam making out in the middle of an art gallery. Sean swallowed, and said, “Well, being that they’re married now, I have no comment.”
Beth smirked at Sean. “Smart reply. Remember that when the reporters question you about it later.”
“You really think they’d question me?” Sean ask
ed. “Not like I was there. Hell, I didn’t even know about it until just now.”
“Those vultures will do anything for a story.”
Britt and Sam picked that moment to return with our coffees. Britt took one look at the screen and rolled her eyes. “That picture again?” she said. “I refuse to defend it, my actions, or my choice of wardrobe.”
“What about the fool you’re kissing?” Sam asked.
Britt glanced over her shoulder at her husband, and smiled. “Him I like, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks about it.”
“You can bet Sullivan will mention the picture, the punch, Ben’s bloody nose, Sam’s hands on your butt, and anything else he can think of,” Beth said. “He’ll drag up every bit of dirt he can find on both of you.”
Sam looked at Beth for a moment, then he frowned and handed out the coffees. “Any idea what kind of dirt he’s after?” he asked.
“Whatever he believes will make either one of you look bad,” Beth replied. She sipped her coffee, then she grabbed a remote control from her top drawer and clicked on the television on the sideboard. “The conference should be starting soon.”
We turned to the television as one, and saw a podium with several microphones set up in front of it. The front of the stage was packed with reporters checking phones and tablets. Apparently Patrick hadn’t had any trouble getting press coverage. Patrick was standing on the far corner of the stage, speaking with an official looking man in a navy suit.
“Where are Nash and Ben?” Britt asked.
“In jail where they belong,” Beth replied. “Judges generally don’t take kindly to those accused of such heinous crimes as the Williams’ leaving their cells for anything short of a trial. Sullivan doesn’t have nearly enough pull to get them a day pass for a press conference.”
Britt nodded, then she squared her shoulders and stared at the screen. I just wanted to scoop her up and hug her like I’d done when she was little, kiss her hurts away and promise her everything would be all right. If only I could keep those promises.
I leaned against Sean’s shoulder. He laced his fingers with mine, then he nodded toward the screen.
“It’s starting,” he said.
Patrick stepped up to the podium, and adjusted the microphone’s height. “Thank you all for coming today,” he began. “As you’re all no doubt aware, my client, Nash Williams, is one of the most talented photographers to come to prominence in recent years. His work has been showcased on magazine covers and in art installations around the globe. His brother, Benjamin, is also my client, and also a good man. While his work is not nearly as well-known as his brother’s, he is just as talented, if not more so. These two gentle artists are currently wrongly imprisoned.”
“Aren’t they accused of rape and murder?” shouted a reported.
“There’s video evidence,” called another.
“Yes, yes, there is that,” Patrick said. “However, the two individuals accusing them, a man and a woman, were involved in the scheme from the get go. According to my clients, they and the woman had a relationship. When it became public, she got embarrassed and accused them of drugging her.” Patrick leaned toward the audience, as if he was revealing a great secret. “Apparently, drugs and parties were what the three of them were into.”
I saw Britt clench her hands, Sam whispering in her ear. On the screen, Patrick produced a remote control of his own and larger than life images of Britt and Sam appeared behind him.
“According to my clients, this woman, one Britt Sullivan, had been having such trysts with the Williams brothers for months,” Patrick said. “As for the man, Samuel MacKellar, he was Nash Williams’s assistant for the better part of a year. That made him the perfect accomplice for Ms. Sullivan.”
“Isn’t she your daughter?”
“Stepdaughter,” Patrick replied, then he shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t able to instill any traditional values in that girl.”
“Aren’t Sullivan and MacKellar married now?” asked the reported who’d first questioned Patrick.
“That sham of a marriage is all part of their game,” Patrick replied. “Are you aware that Mr. MacKellar lived as an openly gay man until just before these accusations were made public?”
Patrick pushed a button on the remote, and image after image of Sam appeared behind him. The first few weren’t too scandalous, and were of Sam having drinks with some male friends. Then an image of Sam with his arms wrapped around a tall, muscular black man appeared, effectively silencing the reporters. Patrick kept clicking, and the images of Sam and the man kept getting racier; by the last image, that picture of Britt and Sam kissing at the gallery was tame by comparison.
“Sam,” Sean said, “who is that man?”
“His name Michael,” Sam replied. “You met him at the wedding. He was our best man.”
Sean rubbed his eyes and ducked his head. Patrick began speaking again, but Beth glanced at the four of us and turned off the television.
“So it looks like this is your standard smear campaign,” Beth said.
“That conference didn’t even accomplish anything,” Britt said, her voice ragged. “All he did was try to out Sam. How would Sam’s past relationships help his clients one way or the other? What the hell kind of a crappy lawyer is he?”
“He’s trying to discredit you—both of you—any way he can,” Beth replied. “As for his crappiness, I’m sure that’s up for debate.”
“That bastard,” I growled. “Patrick is only doing this to hurt me. He’s always used Britt against me.” I leaned over and grabbed Britt’s hand. “I’m so sorry, baby. This is all my fault.”
Britt shook her head. “No, Mom, it’s not, and I don’t want you to think that for a second. Did you tell Nash and Ben to…to hurt me? Did you teach Patrick how to be an asshole? No, you didn’t.” Britt glared at the blank television screen. “This is the fault of three very evil people—Patrick, Nash, and Ben. The only mistake you, or any of us ever made, was believing their lies.”
Sam wrapped his arm around Britt’s shoulders and kissed her hair. “Don’t worry, angel. They’ll get theirs.”
Beth looked at the clock on the wall, and stood. “Okay. That was a holy mess, but we can recover. Give me a day or two to think, and I’ll be in touch. Cindy, do you have the papers? I can get them served for you.”
“I do.” I withdrew my divorce papers and handed them to Beth. “Do you think he’ll sign them?”
“Honestly, after that press conference I wouldn’t be surprised at anything he pulled.”
We said our farewells, then stepped out of Beth’s office. Once we were in the corridor, Sam blocked Sean’s path.
“Sir, I can imagine what you must be thinking,” Sam said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Sean said. “Do you love Britt?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Will you take care of her? Cheat on her?”
“I’d never be unfaithful to Britt,” Sam replied. “She’s the most important person in my life.”
“All right,” Sean said, and he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “That’s all I need to know.” Sean looked at the three of us, then he offered me his arm. “Let’s go somewhere we can plot to take out the big bad wolf.”
“Are you going to blow his house down?” I asked.
“I was thinking more on the lines of filing a countersuit for emotional distress,” Sean replied. “Or I can ask my brother if he knows any hit men.”
Britt rolled her eyes at Sean. “Dad, don’t get Uncle Kevin in trouble. He’s been so good the past few years.”
Sam looked from Sean to Britt. “Is your uncle really a hit man?”
Sean clapped Sam’s shoulder. “Looks like all the skeletons are coming out of the closet, no pun intended. Okay, maybe it was a little intended.”
“Ignore your father,” I said. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.”
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Sean
Present Day
After we left Beth’s office Cin and I took the kids out to lunch, and somehow we all avoided talking about Sam’s past relationships. Intellectually I knew that those hookups or whatever he’d had didn’t matter anymore. Hell, I’d forgiven Cin for marrying another man, as she’d forgiven me for dating and having two children with Emily. I was sure that Britt could do the same for Sam, for whatever he’d done before the two of them met.
It wasn’t even that I thought Sam needed forgiving. I’d never had any problem with gay people, since the way I viewed it a person’s relationships were their own business, not mine. Then again, a formerly gay man had never before dated—or married—my daughter.
I can’t believe I just called Sam formerly gay. As if he could keep his receipt and take that part of him back to the store. I sighed, and shook my head. I guess I wasn’t as enlightened as I’d thought I was.
“It really doesn’t bother you?” I asked Cin when we got back to our hotel room. “About Sam’s past, I mean.”
Cin shrugged. “Sam loves Britt, and he treats her like a queen. Who am I to question his past?”
I noticed how she looked away when she replied. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m not not telling you anything,” Cin squawked.
“Yes, you are. You had that same look when you bought senior prom tickets after we decided not to go.” I gathered Cin in my arms, kissed her hair. “Come on, baby, tell me.”
“I can’t,” she said. “Britt asked me not to.”
“But there is something,” I said. “What, was Sam a drag queen or something?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Cin replied. “You have a good relationship with Sam, ask him yourself.”
“The thought of asking Sir Samalot about his ex-boyfriend gives me the willies.” I looked at Cin and frowned. “Does that mean that I’m an old man?”
Changing Fate (Changing Teams Series Book 3) Page 17
