Maggie shook her head. “I need a break. I’ll be out there shortly.” Casey grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him out to the dance floor. She watched them for a moment, then checked her phone for the time, noticing that there was a Snapchat notification. Opening it, she saw it was from a user she didn’t recognize. SMRDefense. Who in the world is that? she wondered. She held her finger on the notification and smiled immediately when she saw Michael sitting on a sofa looking into the camera. She thought it was a photo until he blinked.
Mischievous grin on her face, she held her phone out from her, turning her back to the crowded dance floor. She had to shout over the music. “It’s video, Michael. You’re allowed to move and talk. Welcome to the twenty-first century.” She immediately pressed Send.
Chapter 15
Michael considered turning off the ball game when they entered the top of the ninth inning with his Yankees down five runs to one. At least Beaulieu didn’t get a perfect game. There was that.
His phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen. Shit! He’d forgotten that he’d sent that message to Maggie. He clicked her name and jumped as bass-driven club music shattered the quiet of his apartment. There was Maggie dressed in a skimpy purple dress. He could see people dancing behind her as she sassed him from Martha’s Vineyard. He grinned at her cheeky tone. Video, eh?
He held out his phone and pressed record. “I know it’s video, Mags. So how’s the wedding? Is this better?” he smirked, and then pressed the send button again.
Two minutes later he had her reply. “The wedding was beautiful. The party’s great.” She smiled wryly. “What are you up to this fine evening?”
He sent another video. “I’m watching the Texas Rangers beat my Yankees. It’s a tragedy.” He rolled his eyes. “So tell me about the male strippers.”
Maggie laughed. “No strippers were involved, sadly. Only copious amounts of tequila. You know,” she arched a well-groomed eyebrow, “it would be simpler to have this conversation over the phone.”
Michael suppressed a smile. “How very twentieth century of you. When are you coming home?”
“No worries, boss, I’ll be ready to roll come Monday morning.” Maggie looked over her shoulder as someone called her name.
“Okay, Mags, I’ll see you then. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” Michael signed off, smiling to himself.
“What are you doing?” Casey demanded. “You said you were coming.”
“I just got off the phone with Michael,” Maggie said. “He asked about the wedding.”
“M-hmm, he wants you,” she concluded.
“Oh, please,” Maggie brushed her off. “Let’s go dance.”
* * *
They’d booked a morning flight back to the city on Sunday. Maggie noticed that Ben was quiet and supposed he was contemplating what he’d find when he arrived home. She wondered if he’d spoken to Alex at some point during the weekend but she didn’t want to pry. The plane landed at noon and they quickly retrieved their bags and made their way to the taxi stand.
Maggie turned to Ben. “Listen, I’m going to go uptown to the office. I need to make sure I can hit the ground running tomorrow.” Concern filled her green eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
Ben smiled unconvincingly. “Sure, Flynn, I’ll be peachy.”
Maggie shook her head. “You call me later and let me know how it goes.”
Tourist traffic made the Sunday afternoon commute slower than usual and it was more than half an hour later when the cab deposited her in front of the office. Standing before the revolving doors with her luggage she considered for the first time her clothing, looking down at the fitted black Ramones t-shirt, distressed skinny jeans, and black leather thong sandals. She’d never gone into work dressed so casually, but it was Sunday, she reasoned. No way will there be anybody be on the 50th floor.
Maggie greeted the security guard at the desk. “Hi, Thomas, I didn’t know you were here on Sundays.”
“I’m covering a shift for Louis. He’s under the weather today. Ms. Flynn, I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
“I was away for the weekend and you know, I want to make sure everything’s under control,” she smiled. “In fact I just left the airport. Is there any way you could keep my bags behind the counter until I leave? I’d hate to have to drag them all the way upstairs.”
“Sure, no problem, Ms. Flynn.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” she said over her shoulder as she entered the elevator.
The 50th floor was eerily quiet as she exited the elevator. Most of the lights were off, only a lamp on Karen’s desk and the emergency exit signs lit the reception area. Maggie flipped a switch and the hallway sconces flickered on adding dim light as she headed first to her office. There she found a neat pile of mail and another of folders, presumably files and briefs she needed to look over. She left her shoulder bag on her chair, but not before placing her phone in her back pocket and her earbuds around her neck. The library was sure to be a mess. She could probably get it sorted in an hour or so, but she’d want some tunes. Removing a hair band from the side pocket of her purse, she quickly pulled her hair into a pony tail.
In the library she was confronted by a huge stack of books on the table that overflowed onto the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she muttered. It might take a couple of hours. Good thing I decided to stop by, she thought. I’d hate to walk into this tomorrow. Positioning the earbuds, she cued up a classic rock playlist, kicked off her shoes, and started returning the room to order.
* * *
Michael slept late on Sunday, awakening at 10:00 when his alarm sounded. He’d forgotten that he’d agreed to meet Jeff Sloan and Patrick Walters for breakfast at Cafe Luka on 71st. Sloan and Walters were old law school buddies of Michael’s. He had a feeling they were looking to try to talk him into leaving Murphy, Rannigan and starting new firm with them. He wasn’t interested, things were just fine the way they were, but he’d need to smooth it over with them. He might need them later.
When he left breakfast a couple of hours later, Sloan and Walters were not very pleased but he’d shot them as straight as he could. Sure they were unhappy, but they’d get over it. His mind moved on to other matters. There were some files he needed to look over for court tomorrow and they weren’t in his briefcase, which meant he must have left them on his desk at the office. He figured he’d pop in and grab them before returning home.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Rannigan,” Thomas greeted him as he entered the lobby of the office building.
“Hey, there, Thomas,” he returned. “Pretty quiet here today I suppose.”
“Yes sir, there haven’t been too many people in on such a fine Sunday,” the security guard answered. “Of course, Ms. Flynn is here.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Is she now? I thought she was still out of town.”
“She must have come straight from the airport. I’m keeping her bags for her while she’s upstairs,” he said, hooking a thumb toward the suitcase and garment bag stacked behind the security counter.
“That’s nice of you,” Michael murmured, nodding his head. Mags came in straight from the airport to make sure things are in order, he thought as the elevator doors closed. Wish a few others on my team had that kind of hustle.
Chapter 16
Michael stepped out of the elevator into the dim reception area. The files he needed were on his desk but he looked down the hall in the opposite direction from his office. Maggie’s door was open and golden afternoon light filtered into the hallway from her window. He heard the sounds of movement coming from the open doorway of the library and he headed there.
A mountain of books covered the table and a few had even slid to the floor. It was as though someone had gone out of their way to leave a mess for Maggie to deal with when she returned. No way could anyone possibly use that many books in one day. Standifer and Hemphill, he guessed. He knew they always tried to give her a hard time.
From deep within the rows of sh
elves, he heard her humming. He recognized the song immediately. Maggie appeared from around the corner, her back to him as she pulled a cart piled high with heavy leather volumes. The cord to her earbuds snaked up from the back pocket of her jeans, and she was still humming as she paused to place a few books on a shelf.
A slow smile crept across his face as Michael leaned against the doorway and watched her move back in the direction from which she’d come, stopping at the next shelf and checking the cart. He’d never seen her dressed casually. Maggie’s work attire was always consummately professional. Today, her feet were bare, the skinny jeans, low cut, and the tight black t-shirt had a tiny logo on the back, The Ramones, unless he missed his guess. Who knew Maggie was a punk? he mused, grinning. She’d pulled her hair back in a pony tail that swished as she moved to shelve some more books.
She began to pull the cart back in his direction again, hips swaying to the music only she heard, and she stopped in the middle of the aisle. “Kkkkkk-Katmandu!” she sang, and she raised her arms over her head and twisted her body down until she sat on her heels and then swayed back up again. In the process her shirt rode up and her jeans rode down, exposing a small sun tattoo on her right hip. Michael felt his body responding. Maggie was...hot.
He grinned mischievously, enjoying his vantage point. Maggie picked up a stack of three leather bound volumes, turned suddenly, and realized he was standing in the doorway. Eyes wide, she shrieked unintelligibly, dropped the books, and stumbled backwards, landing smack on her ass. “Holy fucking shitballs! What the hell?!”
Laughing, he crossed the space quickly and reached to help her to her feet. “Howdy, Mags. How was your trip?”
“Goddammit, Michael, you scared the fucking shit out of me!” she squawked. “And I just broke my phone!” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the remains of her old iPhone. The screen was crushed and the back had come off and was broken in half.
He laughed again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I stopped by to pick up some files for court tomorrow. Thomas told me you were here so I came to look for you, but then you were singing and I just had to watch. You’re pretty good, you know. We should all go for karaoke some night.” He saw by her expression that she was still mad. “I’ll buy you a new phone. It’s my fault yours got broken.”
Her face softened a little. “You don’t have to do that. I just didn’t expect to see anyone in here today.”
“No, I broke it, I’ll replace it,” Michael said. He gave her a stern look. “But Mags, your language, seriously!”
She immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a potty mouth, it’s just... Well, you startled me. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“That’s more like it,” he replied, arching an eyebrow. “After all, this is a goddamn serious motherfucking place of business, not some son of a bitch cocksucking tavern.” He grinned and winked.
She smiled ruefully and gave him a playful shove. “You’re teasing me.”
“Yes, I am,” Michael agreed. Again, he was aware of the unsettled feeling he had when he was around Maggie and he took a step back. “Well, I’m off to get the files.”
He left her to her books and headed to his office. He’d be away from the office all day tomorrow. Probably a good thing, he decided. Thoughts of that sun tattoo were swirling in his mind.
Files in hand, he headed back to the library to say goodbye but encountered Maggie in the reception area. She was pushing the empty cart. “I figured I should check the conference room before I get too far and think I’m almost finished,” she said. “I’m glad I stopped in today so I don’t have all this in addition to tomorrow’s jobs.”
“I appreciate your hard work, Mags,” Michael said genuinely. He pointed to her t-shirt. “You’re a Ramones fan?”
Maggie looked down at her shirt and back up to him. “Of course. I don’t think I could be friends with someone who doesn’t like the Ramones,” she grinned.
“Well lucky for me,” he replied. “Say, there’s a charity thing in Connecticut on Friday night. It’s to support music in the schools or something.” She furrowed her brow so he explained further. “I’m not sure exactly, but it’s a semi-formal thing at an estate on the water and there are supposed to be some classic rockers performing. Anyway, I bought a table. Murph and Jimbo and their wives will be there but I still have two tickets left. I thought if you could find someone to bring, maybe you’d like to come, too.”
He watched her eyes widen, then narrow as she crossed her arms in front of the Ramones logo. Aw, shit! he thought, realizing he’d fucked it up.
“So if I could manage to scrape up somebody who didn’t mind going out with me, we’d be invited to your little shindig?” she summarized, swirling her index finger in a flippant circle.
“Geez, Mags, that’s not what I meant, I just meant...” he trailed off.
“Michael,” she said severely, “I gotcha!” She grinned triumphantly.
“Aw, son of a...” They both laughed.
“I think I can find someone. It sounds like fun,” Maggie said.
“Good,” Michael replied, “I’ll get you those tickets.” He pushed the call button for the elevator. “Thanks again for working so hard, Maggie. Please know it’s noticed and appreciated. We’ll start getting you out to court soon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Maggie warned.
“I figured as much,” Michael replied, laughing lightly. He stepped into the elevator and turned to face her. “By the way, Mags, is that little sun the only tattoo you have?”
She glanced down at her hip. “As far as you know,” she replied saucily, just as the elevator doors closed.
Again, Michael felt his body respond and he shook his head. This could definitely be trouble.
Maggie finished putting away all the books about an hour and a half later and returned home exhausted from her trip and the extra work. She wondered about Ben, but with her broken phone, she had no way to call him.
At 8:30 that evening, Maggie’s door buzzed. It was a messenger with a brand new iPhone, courtesy of S. Michael Rannigan.
Chapter 17
On Monday, Michael was in court all day, but an envelope mysteriously appeared on Maggie’s desk at some point. It held two invitations and a note from Michael. Here are the tickets, Mags. It should be fun. Glad you’re coming. See you tomorrow. M.
Maggie called Ben. “You have to do me this favor.”
She’d called him right after the new phone was delivered and they’d talked for hours. Ben had arrived home to find that Alex had moved out of their apartment. He’d been devastated and Maggie had listened compassionately as he told her everything they’d gone through over the last few weeks, the lies he’d caught Alex telling, the hang-ups on their land line when Ben answered the phone, the late nights and special projects Alex had been assigned lately.
Maggie had tried to keep her opinion of Alex to herself but finally she couldn’t resist, “At least now you can move forward.”
Now on the phone, Ben was unenthusiastic. “What favor, Flynn?”
“You and I have invitations to a charity concert-slash-dinner in Darien, Connecticut on Friday night.”
Ben groaned. “No way, Flynn, no way am I up to that.”
“You have to do me this favor, Ben, I mean it,” she hissed. “Michael invited me but I can’t go alone. You have to do this for me. I never ask you for anything. Besides, it’ll do you good to get out. Maybe you’ll meet someone. Success is the best revenge, right?”
“I don’t know,” he hedged.
“There’s dinner, dancing, a silent auction, and performances by Steve Perry and ‘Diamond’ David Lee Roth,” she read directly from the invitation. “Plus, there’s an open bar,” she figured, although it didn’t say for sure. “Come on, do this for me, I’ll never ask for another favor ever again. Please?”
Ben sighed. “Alright, Flynn. Just because I love you. But there’d better be cute guys there.
Hey, why isn’t Studly taking you as his date?”
“Because he already has a date,” she explained. “Don’t worry about the details. I’ll get the train tickets and meet you at 6:00 on Friday. Oh, and it’s semi-formal. So pull yourself together. Nobody wants to shag a whiner.”
* * *
It was 7:15 by the time Maggie and Ben arrived at the address given on the invitation, having taken the train from the city to Connecticut. Maggie had splurged on a new dress for the occasion, a formfitting sleeveless wrap dress of emerald green satin with a deep v neckline and ruching at the waist, causing the garment to cling to all her curves. The color of the dress emphasized the green of her eyes and nicely offset her red hair, which she left long and straight. She wore silver jeweled stiletto sandals and carried a silver clutch to match.
Ben was striking in his navy suit with a light blue dress shirt and dark blue patterned tie. He’d taken one look at Maggie and remarked, “Whoa, Flynn, killer cleavage!”
Self-consciously, she’d worried, “Is it too much?”
Ben shook his head. “Not if you’re trying to get the attention of a certain studly lawyer.”
They presented their invitations and were directed to the back of the main house. Guests were milling around the immaculately manicured lawn and under an immense white tent Maggie could see dining tables exquisitely set and awaiting the dinner portion of the evening. Servers circulated with trays of food and wine and Maggie and Ben each snagged a glass of sauvignon blanc as they scanned the crowd.
“I’m going to do my best hetero impression,” Ben told Maggie as he sipped his wine.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Just be yourself.”
“Oh, no, we want to make Mr. Rannigan a little jealous,” Ben quipped. “I’m on a mission.”
Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection Page 7
