She was just hailing a cab, having set the box on the curb, when she heard someone calling. “Hey, counselor!” She turned to see Detective Allegretti bounding down the steps of the station. “Wait up a second.”
He was taller than Maggie but not by much. She figured him to be about 5’10”, and his black hair was closely cropped, probably, she surmised, due to its being curly and unruly. His eyes were dark brown and intelligent. “So counselor,” he said as he approached her, “I was wondering if you might meet me for a drink later.”
“A drink?” she repeated.
He grinned. “Yeah, you know, an adult beverage? People have them after work sometimes?”
Maggie smiled slowly. It had been a long time since she’d been out. The evenings with Ben and Nate didn’t count. No, since she’d been on a real date... Not for months, she realized. She looked at the detective. He was handsome in that Italian cop sort of way. A drink. “Where might we meet for a drink?” she asked.
He bobbed his head over his right shoulder. “We get together at a place on 70th. Murphy’s Law.”
She snickered. “Cops gather at a bar called Murphy’s Law?”
He laughed too. “I know, it’s funny, right? So what do you say, counselor?”
“Well, if I’m meeting you at Murphy’s Law for an adult beverage, you should probably call me Maggie.”
He grinned again. “I’m Mike. Glad to meet you, Maggie. So I’ll see you, what, about 6:00?”
Of course, your name is Mike. Which is short for... Maggie nodded. “I’ll see you there about 6:00.”
* * *
It was just past 6:30 when Maggie walked through the front door of Murphy’s Law. The place was packed and she thought briefly of leaving when she heard a voice from further into the room. “There you are counselor!” She turned to see Mike making his way through the crowd.
“I’m sorry to be late,” she said. “I got bogged down at work and ended up staying later than I’d planned.”
“Aw, no worries, we got started without you,” he said, laughing. He led her through the dining room to the bar where patrons were three deep. A group was clustered at the far end. “These are my guys,” he said by way in introduction. “Hey, guys, this is Maggie.” He indicated five men with virtually the same cut as his own, but whose hair was in shades ranging from black to red to grey. They all murmured welcomes. “What are you drinking, Maggie?” Mike asked.
“A Guinness?” she shrugged.
He grinned. “A Guinness it is.”
They took their pints to a high-top table opposite the bar along the exposed brick wall. Two men who were sitting at the table immediately got up. “Thanks guys,” Mike said. “This is Maggie. Maggie, Bob and Felix.”
Maggie greeted them both and watched them head over to the others by the bar. “They saved the table for you?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s just buddies helping each other out. Only cost me a couple of beers,” he shrugged. “I wanted to have a nice place to sit and chat.”
“Yo, Mikey!” shouted someone at the bar. They both turned to see a guy moving his fist to his lips and poking his tongue into his cheek, the universal third-grader sign for a blow job.
“Sorry about those guys,” Mike said, laughing. “They have no class.”
She smiled into her glass. They talked for about an hour, all those ‘get acquainted’ topics like work and family. For Maggie, that part was brief. Mike, on the other hand, came from a large Italian family and was only one of several cops. She laughed at his stories of holiday meals gone awry thanks to the antics of his older brothers.
They sat quietly for a while, listening to the music and the din of too many conversations. Maggie looked up to see his eyes burning into hers. He smiled. “What?” she asked, laughing softly.
Mike set down his glass. “We could sit here and talk all night. What I’d really like to do is take you someplace quiet and make love to you.”
She suppressed an amused smile. “Does that line work very often?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Sometimes,” he grinned ruefully.
She smiled too and sipped her Guinness, considering. “Okay, let’s go.”
* * *
He’s so primal, she thought, almost like a caveman, not that I’m complaining. They’d begun kissing just inside her door. “Do you want a drink?” she’d offered. He’d shaken his head, then grasped her hand and gone in search of her bed. He pushed her down onto it and stood over her removing his clothes, first pulling his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it, then unzipping his pants, sliding them down and stepping out of them. His erection, at full attention, was not the largest she’d ever seen, but it would do the job.
Unencumbered by his clothing, Mike turned his attention to Maggie, kneeling over her and removing her blouse, tugging down her skirt and panties. She leaned up allowing him to unhook and remove her bra. He tossed her things to the floor and pushed his way between her legs, leaning over her, kissing her deeply, running his hands up her body and roughly squeezing her tits.
With no further preamble, he suddenly thrust his cock into her sex, causing her to gasp. She gripped his back as he slammed into her feverishly. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “Oh, baby, oh baby!” She felt her heat beginning to build when he cried out, “Oh, fuck, yes!!” He stilled for a moment then rolled off of her, flopping down beside her. “Oh, baby, that was something else,” he breathed.
Maggie stared up at the ceiling. That was something else, alright. Glad you enjoyed.
Fifteen minutes later, they were both dressed and standing at her door. Mike leaned down and kissed her gently. “I want to see you again,” he said. “Say you’ll have dinner with me Saturday.”
Maggie considered for a moment. He’s nice. Maybe tonight was an off night for him, maybe it’s been a while. It’s not like I have something else going on.
She smiled. “Dinner on Saturday. It’s a date.”
Chapter 10
Brian Murphy and Jim Metheny sat dumbfounded across the conference table from Michael and Alexis on the 47th floor at Murphy, Rannigan, and Metheny. They looked like men who’d just lost their livelihoods, which, in essence, they were.
“I don’t understand, Michael,” Jim said. “We can’t buy you out for that kind of money. It’s ludicrous.”
“Gentlemen, your own financial records show that over the last twelve years, Michael and the 50th floor have brought in three times more revenue than the other floors combined.” Alexis presented her argument reasonably, it was simply a matter of fact. “Taking that into account, the truth is Michael owns this firm. He simply wants out to pursue other opportunities.”
Brian ignored Alexis. “Michael, are you really going to do this to us? We agreed years ago that we were all in this thing together.”
Michael looked vaguely apologetic. “What can I say, Murph? I busted my ass drumming up the high-paying clients that kept this whole thing afloat, particularly during the lean years. Nobody said that you guys couldn’t do the same. You just didn’t.” He looked from Brian to Jim. “I only want what’s mine, what’s due to me. Alexis is offering me a great opportunity. I’m not going to pass it up just for old time’s sake. I can’t look back in a few years and regret not taking the chance.”
“No, why do that when you can look back and regret screwing over your friends?” Jim quipped.
Michael looked down at the table. “I wish you wouldn’t take it that way,” he said quietly.
Brian shook his head. “We can’t afford to fight you, Michael. We’ll have to liquidate to give you what you want. We’ll let go of the office space and lay off nearly everyone, starting on the 50th floor, by the way.”
He looked at Michael as if maybe he’d failed to consider this. He hadn’t. Michael had considered all of it.
“Maybe we’ll have something left to start over,” Brian concluded softly. He looked a little dazed as he stood. “I’m done here.” He looked at Michael. “Good luck. We won’t t
alk again.” Jim pushed back from the table and wordlessly followed Brian out of the room.
“Fuck,” Michael swore softly.
Alexis patted his hand. “Don’t worry about them. Your star is rising. There will always be haters.”
* * *
“Flynn! Oh, thank God you’re here!” Ben gushed when he opened the door to let Maggie into his apartment.
“I came as fast as I could,” she said. “What’s going on?” She could see Nate sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in front of him.
“Tell her. Tell her what her friend just did,” Ben said, hands on his hips.
Nate looked up at her sadly. “We all got pink slips today.”
Maggie frowned. “What do you mean? Who all?”
“All the hoity-toities on the 50th floor of Murphy, Rannigan, that’s who,” Ben said.
“What? Start at the beginning,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter opposite Nate.
Nate sighed. “Apparently, Michael forced Brian and Jim to buy him out. In order to do that, they have to lay off nearly everyone. And they started with the 50th floor. They’re also giving up the office space and consolidating existing caseloads.”
“Forced them to buy him out?” she asked. “Why in the world would he do that?”
“It’s all pretty hush-hush,” Nate said, “but rumor has it that Michael’s going to be some kind of television news legal consultant. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but some people are saying that’s the deal.”
Wide-eyed, Maggie shook her head. “I can’t imagine that he’d do something like that, leave Jim and Brian with no alternative other than to lay off everyone.”
“What have you heard from Mr. Perfect?” Ben demanded.
“From Michael? Why would I hear anything?” Maggie asked. “I haven’t talked to him in months, and that was in court. It’s just...” she broke off. “It’s just too crazy. What are Brian and Jim going to do? Will they continue with their own firm?”
Nate shrugged. “I’m more concerned right now about what I’m going to do.”
Maggie crossed to Nate and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to minimize your problem. I’ll check around, see if maybe we’re hiring at the DA’s office. You know I’ll write up a stellar recommendation, for whatever that might be worth.”
“Thanks, Maggie,” Nate said quietly.
Maggie straightened up. “Okay, guys, I’ve got to run.”
Ben smirked. “Let me guess. You’re meeting Super Cop at Murphy’s.”
She opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. “How did you ever guess?”
“Because that’s the only place he ever goes. You really need to broaden his horizons, Flynn,” Ben said. “Has he gone down on you yet?”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “I am so not discussing my sex life with you.” Unfortunately, she realized, she already had, late one night after a few too many margaritas when she’d let it slip that Mike was, to put it politely, less than adventurous in the bedroom.
Sex with Mike was generally missionary position with him on top. When he was feeling particularly intrepid, he’d fuck her from behind, doggy style. Her pleasure was not his concern. “I come every time, baby,” he’d quipped.
She’d tried to gently approach him about trying something different. Once after giving him a blowjob, she said lightly, “You know, they say turnabout is fair play.”
“What? I should go down on you?” He’d laughed. “No way, baby. No way am I doing that. I don’t my mouth all full of hair.”
Maggie had shrugged. “What hair? I wax. There is no hair.”
He’d laughed again. “Dream on, sweetheart.”
She replayed the conversation on her way to Murphy’s. By the time she arrived, she was in a bad mood. “Hey, there she is,” Mike said as she approached the table where he was drinking with three of his buddies. “Hi, beautiful. You’re late.”
“Sorry,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I had to stop by Ben and Nate’s.”
Mike laughed. “Oh, yeah? What’s happening in the ‘fruit basket’?” Mike’s friends laughed, too.
“Don’t do that,” Maggie said quietly.
“Do what?” he asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.
“You know exactly what I mean,” she returned.
“I’m just joking, you know that, baby,” he said.
“You’re not funny,” she said, standing. “Listen, I’m a little tired. I’m heading home. I’ll call you tomorrow, Mike.” Maggie waggled her fingers at Mike’s tablemates. “By guys,” she said, and she headed for the door.
“Ooh, Mikey,” said his partner, Dom Sanchez, “she’s getting pissed.”
“You know how it is when they’re on the rag,” Mike laughed. He reached into his pocket and put some bills on the table. “I’ve gotta go do damage control. See you guys later.”
Heading out the front door, Maggie stopped to dig through her purse for her phone. Why am I still dating this guy? she wondered. You know exactly why. Because being with Mike is better than being alone.
“Wait, baby, don’t go home,” Mike said, following her out onto the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad. I was just making the guys laugh, that’s all. I don’t mean half the shit I say.”
Maggie took a step back out of his embrace. “I hate it when you mock my friends. Ben and Nate are like family to me. Your attitude is hurtful.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “Geez, Maggie, I was only kidding. You know I like your friends.” He took her hand and pulled her to him, holding her close. “You are so hot when you’re mad, you know that?” He nibbled her ear lobe playfully. “Let’s go to your place and lose some clothes, see what comes up...” He pressed his erection against her hip. “What do you say?”
Chapter 11
“Okay, Michael,” the producer said into Michael’s earpiece as the production assistant clipped the box to the back of his belt. “You’re wired for sound. We’re coming to you in thirty seconds.”
Michael glanced beyond the cameras to where Alexis stood watching him. She winked at him and he gave his signature grin. No way would he let on that for the first time in a long time he felt nervous. What if I fuck this up? he wondered. There was no going back to Murphy, Rannigan. Michael blinked hard. There was no Murphy, Rannigan. Not anymore.
“Ten seconds, Michael,” he heard in his earpiece.
He looked across the desk to the anchor, a pretty brunette with eyes that sparkled with intelligence. The floor director counted down the last five seconds and pointed to her. “Now we turn to the murder trial of Ronny Wayne Smith, the postal worker accused of gunning down five of his former co-workers after he was laid off. Joining us is our new legal analyst, Michael Rannigan.” She turned to him. “Welcome, Michael, thanks for joining us.”
Michael nodded humbly. “Thank you, Sasha, I’m happy to be here.” The anchor launched into the questions for which he’d been prepped. This is a cake walk, he thought as he spun out the expected responses. The segment lasted three minutes and then Sasha turned back to the other camera to continue with the next story.
“That was great, Michael,” said the producer in his ear. The production assistant unhooked Michael’s sound paraphernalia and pointed him in the direction he should take to leave the set.
Alexis met him by the door. “I knew I was right about you,” she said. “You were perfect. I hope you dvr’d this. It’s your first of many if I have my way about it.”
Michael nodded as they walked down the hallway. “It felt good,” he said. “Will they always give me the questions beforehand or was this just a ‘first time’ thing? I’d hoped to add more, really give my perspective on the whole thing, but there wasn’t time.”
“How cute are you? They don’t care what you actually think,” Alexis laughed. “They know what they want to say. They just need you to make it l
ook official.”
An unfamiliar emotion settled in Michael’s gut. He felt stupid. He tried to shake it off. He was being very nicely compensated for offering his expert analysis, even if it was spoon-fed to him.
“Now, realize I won’t be with you every time,” Alexis was saying. “I have lots of other clients. But I wanted to be here to watch you pop your cherry.” She laughed at her joke. Michael grinned amiably. “They’re going to want you until the trial is over. It will probably be a couple of weeks. Then I have you booked at the Missouri Bar Association’s annual conference. I’ll have my assistant e-mail you the schedule.”
Like Alexis had predicted, the Smith case ended two weeks later. Michael became comfortable with the routine of chatting about the trial with the anchor. He even received a booking for the Sunday morning talk show where he was given five minutes to summarize the trial. By the time he traveled St. Louis, he was recognized in the airport, even signed a few autographs. This, he thought to himself, does not suck.
He found that at the event’s cocktail party, there was no shortage of women wishing to warm his bed, all of them gushing over his keynote address. Most of them had seen his television appearances and one even told him she’d recorded them to watch over and over again. This is how it is when you know you’ve made it, he thought. Going with Alexis and ditching the firm was the best decision I could have made.
* * *
Maggie checked her watch as she hurried home. She was supposed to meet Mike after work at Murphy’s but she’d called him to say that she wanted to go home to shower first. It had been an unusually steamy spring day and she knew she’d feel better with a cool rinse and a change of clothes. Thankfully, Mike had been understanding. “No worries, baby, take your time,” he’d said.
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