Bikini Baristas: Ted Higuera Series Book 4

by Pendelton Wallace

  The rambling one-story was as tall as a two-story house. The great room had a high arched ceiling that made it feel like a cathedral. It was Dick’s idea to build such a grand house. He wanted to show off his money and power. Not that Karen minded a little bling, she just wouldn’t have thought of investing all their money in a house.

  “Thanks, Babe.” Dick got out and opened the trunk.

  Karen stood by the hood of the car and waited to see what her estranged husband would do next. “What’s the deal with court on Monday?” she asked.

  “Bullshit. I’ve got a sentencing hearing. Some trumped up charges. I’m here without the prosecution’s permission. You need to keep quiet about this. I could get in a lot of trouble for jumping bail if they found out I left the state.”

  “Bail? Sentencing?” She screeched in her high-pitched voice. ”Dick, what have you gotten into?”

  He walked up the sidewalk and opened the front door. “Like I said, it’s bullshit. One of my girl’s was under age. I didn’t know it. She had fake ID. They got me on exploiting a minor charges.”

  Karen followed Dick inside. The coolness of the air-conditioning felt good on her skin. “But you can make it go away, right?”

  If Dick went to jail, how would he continue to support her life-style? It took real money to keep the house, the car and her stuff. She didn’t mind that Dick was living in Seattle, in fact, she preferred it. That way, he was rarely around to criticize her choices, to make her do the kind of boring stuff that he used to do.

  And she didn’t have to see him messing around with other women. Oh, yes, she knew about them. The bastard couldn’t keep his pants zipped. But at least, when he was a thousand miles away, he didn’t flaunt it in her face.

  She thought about filing for divorce again. That’s why she divorced him the first time. But it was too draining. Besides, she had the benefits of his money without the drag of having him around all the time.

  “I don’t know about this one,” Dick was saying. “It might not go away. My lawyer is trying to work out a deal with the prosecutor, but the jerk doesn’t want to budge. I may have to do something about it myself.”

  “What can you do?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m thinking about it.”

  “Well, don’t think too long. How will you make the house payments if you’re in jail?”

  “Shit, Karen, don’t you ever think about anything but yourself?” He slammed his carry-on bag down on the hallway table. “I’m facing jail time and you’re worried about your prissy life-style?”

  “Dick, honey, you know I’m worried about you. But your investments, you know, how will you take care of your investments here?”

  “Worried about me, my ass.” He stomped into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. “You’re worried about your meal ticket. Well, honey, that ship has sailed.” He pulled a beer from the fridge.

  “Dick Randall, you don’t have to be mean.” She followed him out to the patio.

  “Take a good look around you.” He swept the view with the beer bottle in his hand. “You won’t be seeing this for long. The bank sent me a notice of foreclosure.”

  “What? Foreclosure? How? Why?”

  Dick plopped himself down on a padded pool-side chaise lounge. “I’m kinda behind on the payments. Things have been a little tough. I had a cash-flow problem.”

  Karen stared at her husband for a moment. “Behind on the payments? Dick! How could you? This is our home. What about all those other investments? The rental house, the house in Seattle. Are you behind on them too? Or did you just stop making the payments on my house?”

  Dick sipped his beer and hung his head. “All of them. I’m behind on all of them. The bank says it will foreclose on all of them if I don’t bring the payments current in thirty days.”

  “So what are you going to do about it? You’re supposed to be the big wheeler-dealer. How are you going to fix this?”

  “Not my biggest problem.” Dick stood. “I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I need to take care of this jail thing before I can handle anything else.” He started towards the door.

  “Richard Randall, don’t you dare walk out on me. I want to know what you’re going to do.”

  Dick kept walking through the house.

  “Come back here...” she shouted to his back. “You...you...bastard.”

  ****

  Randall took his bag with him to the garage. He tossed the roll-on and the carry-on into the back-seat of his 2003 Toyota Pre-Runner pickup. The keys were hanging on the wall where he left them.

  The truck started on the first try. Good old Toyotas. They always started, no matter how long you let them sit.

  His rental unit was across town. Early afternoon traffic wasn’t too bad and he backed into the driveway before sunset.

  His tenants never complained that his stuff took up one of the stalls in the two-car garage. Rusty Olsen was home and helped him load the expensive brass espresso machine into the back of the truck.

  “Thanks, Rusty. I can tie her down.” Randall took a coil of rope from behind the back seat and carefully secured his prize possession.

  “Where you takin’ this, Mr. Randall?” Rusty asked.

  “Back to Seattle. I’m opening a new barista stand. This one’s going to be something special, really up-scale. Seattle’s a crazy market for coffee. Seems like everyone’s addicted and they don’t care what they pay. I’m gonna clean up with this bad boy.”

  He tied the last knots, said goodbye to his tenant and took off down the road.

  He had hours of driving ahead of him. Starting out at the end of the day wasn’t such a bad idea. He could cover most of the desert in the cool of the night.

  Chapter 7

  Chris met Natalie White and Clayton outside the Island County courtroom. He had worked out a deal with the prosecutor. Clayton would get deferred prosecution and be released to his mother’s custody. If he stayed out of trouble until his eighteenth birthday, his record would be expunged. This was contingent on Clayton’s return to school, continued attendance and passing grades.

  It was a good deal. It saved Ms. Wong the hassle of having to prepare a case against Clayton, thus saving the taxpayers money, and it allowed Chris to impress upon his young client that there were consequences for his actions. It was Chris’s hope that this would scare Clayton straight. The young man needed something to kick him in the butt and get him on the right course.

  All-in-all, Chris felt pretty good about how he handled his first case. It was a win-win. The best part was that Chris could report back to his senior partner that he had kept his nephew out of the slammer.

  “Mrs. White, Clay, it’s good to see you.” Chris extended his hand.

  Natalie shook it eagerly. “Thank you, Mr. Hardwick. I’m so grateful that you worked this all out.”

  “No problem at all. I just want to remind you, Clayton, that this whole agreement depends on you. If you screw up, if you get into any more trouble, there’s no going back. You’ll spend the next year and a half in lock up.”

  Clayton rolled his eyes and gave Chris a “what the hell” look.

  Chris held the courtroom door open for his clients.

  His clients. That sounded pretty good. He was acting like a grownup lawyer.

  “Juvenile court for Island County will now come to order,” the bailiff cried.

  The side door of the courtroom opened and the petite gray-haired judge entered smiling and carrying a single rose in a bud vase.

  She ascended the two steps to her bench and placed the rose to her right, then picked up the gavel, banged it twice. “Court is now in session,” she said.

  “What’s our first case, Maya?” she asked.

  The court clerk handed her a file folder. “The People v. Clayton Johnson-White.”

  “Oh, yes,” the judge said.

  “Your honor.” Ms. Wong rose from her seat. “The prosecution and the defense have reached an agreement...”

 
“Yes,” the judge said, pushing her reading glasses up her button nose, “I see that. I’ve looked at this case.” The smile on her face was replaced by a stern look. “Mr. Johnson-White seems to be quite the young rake.” She looked over the top of her half-glasses at Clayton. “You have quite a history, young man.”

  Clayton, slumped in his chair, looked at her with disdain, but didn’t respond.

  “This young man shows no signs of remorse,” the judge continued. “He presents a clear menace to society. I will not return him to his home to continue terrorizing the community.”

  “Your Honor!” Christ shot up from his chair.

  “Sit down, Mr. Hardwick. I’m not finished.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Chis sat.

  “I feel that we need to send a clear message to Mr. Johnson-White. Young man, you must understand that what you have been doing is not all right. You are not some kind of modern day Robin Hood. What you have been doing has consequences. You have been invading private property, stealing from the good citizens of this county. I won’t stand for it.”

  She stopped and glared into Clayton’s defiant eyes.

  “The defendant will please rise,” she said.

  Chris and Clayton stood.

  “Clayton Johnson-White, I am setting aside the plea bargain agreement between the prosecutor and your attorney. I am sentencing you to incarceration in the Island County Juvenile Facility in Coupeville until your reach your eighteenth birthday. At the facility you will have the opportunity to continue your education and you will receive counseling. I hope you take advantage of this opportunity to straighten out your life. If you don’t, I see a very bleak future for you indeed.”

  She smashed her gavel down. “Next case.”

  Chris slumped to his chair, his mouth open in disbelief.

  “Your Honor,” he managed to mumble.

  “Next case,” the judge said.

  ****

  Ted bustled around his Capitol Hill apartment taking care of last-minute details. He hung his bicycle on the hooks on the office wall and put fresh flowers he bought at the Pike Place Market in a crystal vase purchased at a garage sale. Put stuff away, make it look civilized.

  This was a big night. Maria was coming over. This was the first chance they had to spend any time together since she arrived in Seattle.

  Ted spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. No point cooking fancy Mexican food for her, she lived most of her life in Mexico. It would be better to show her the delights of living in Seattle.

  Wild, troll-caught Copper River Salmon. That was it. Not a difficult meal to make, but it was something she couldn’t get in Mexico. Besides, it had class. He picked up a nice fillet at the Fish Market at Pike Place Market. The rich, red fish oozed style. He soaked a cedar plank in water for a couple of hours then placed the fish, skin side down on the plank. After topping the fish with sour cream, red onion rings and dill he put it back in the refrigerator. He’d cook it on the grill after Maria arrived.

  Ted washed and cut up some red potatoes and placed them in a baking dish then drizzled olive oil over them, sprinkled them with rosemary, sea salt, topped them off with parmesan cheese and diced garlic then placed them in the oven. While the potatoes cooked, he washed asparagus and placed it on a cookie sheet. He sprinkled olive oil on it then topped it with garlic and parmesan cheese. The asparagus would only take a few minutes so he’d put it in the oven when he fired the fish.

  This gave him time to slice, butter and add garlic to a loaf of fresh French Bread he got at the Market. Next he prepped the Caesar salad.

  What wine to serve? A Chardonnay? No, it was too strong to go with the delicate fish. How about a nice sauvignon blanc?

  At precisely six p.m. the door-bell rang. She’s punctual, he thought. What the hell? No one in Mexico was ever on time for anything, and she shows up at the stroke of six. He straightened the Sports Illustrated magazines on the coffee table and headed for the door.

  He opened the door to be greeted by a deep “woof.”

  Popo jumped up on his hind legs and put his front paws on Ted’s shoulders.

  “Down, tiger.” Ted removed the paws and the giant dog returned to the floor.

  “I hope you don’t mind I brought Mr. Popo,” Maria said. “I didn’t want to leave him home by himself all night.”

  Ted eyed the dog then looked at Maria. She was gorgeous. She wore a heavy camelhair coat and black skinny jeans. Her long hair cascaded down her back in copper ringlets, silver earrings with turquoise insets dangled from her ears accenting her green eyes. He’d forgive her anything.

  “No problem,” Ted said as Popo pushed his way through the door. “Wow!” Ted tried hard not to gawk. “You look great.”

  Maria slipped off her coat and handed it to Ted. Underneath she wore a V-neck burgundy sweater. “This old thing?” she teased. “I just took two hours throwing it on.”

  “C’mon in.” Ted held the door. “Make yourself at home.”

  Maria flowed into the room. Being a dancer, all her movements seemed fluid and choreographed. Popo was somewhat less delicate as he shoved Ted aside.

  “Nice place.” She sat on the brown leather sofa. “I like the classic feel of the building.”

  Popo sidled up next to her on the sofa then put his paws in her lap and crawled up. Ted was left standing.

  “It’s nearly a hundred years old,” Ted said. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Sure,” she nodded.

  “I had a real modern apartment on Lake Union when I lived here before, but I really like the old-fashioned feel of this building.”

  Cove moldings surrounded the pressed-tin ceilings and light green wainscoting went halfway up the walls in the living room. The top half was plastered and painted a darker green.

  “It may be old, but it’s been updated,” he said. Modern stainless steel appliances filled the kitchen and cabinets with glass doors showed off his china.

  “Come see my view,” Ted said as he handed Maria a glass the sauvignon blanc.

  He took her hand and helped her up from the sofa then led her to his office. Popo trotted after her.

  “This is a two-bedroom apartment. This was supposed to be the master bedroom, with the spectacular view, but I decided to use it for my office.”

  Maria gasped slightly as she looked out. The city was lit up in night-time splendor. Below her, the hill dropped steeply, the buildings falling away to Lake Union. To the right were the Space Needle and Queen Anne Hill. But the most spectacular part of the view was across the tall office buildings of downtown, towards Elliot Bay, Puget Sound and the snow-capped Olympic Mountains beyond.

  “I figure that I’ll be spending a lot of time working in here,” Ted said, patting the light-stained oak desk under the window. “I’d rather have the view while I’m awake than use this for the bedroom. Then I’d have a great view while I’m sleeping.”

  “My, this is amazing,” Maria said. “What’s that funny-looking thing on the banks of the lake?”

  Ted looked to his right where, on the sprawling green lawns of Gas Works Park, sat a black mechanical nightmare with all sorts of boilers and pipes riveted together. It looked like something out of an old Sherlock Holmes movie.

  “That’s the old coal gasification plant.” Ted said.

  “Come again?”

  “A hundred years ago or so, they turned coal into natural gas to power the city. That thing’s what’s left of the old plant. It was an ecological nightmare. In the eighties, the EPA spent millions of dollars cleaning up the site and making a park out of it.”

  “Well, it certainly is different.” Maria sipped at her wine. “Ummm, something smells good.”

  Ted led her back to the living room. “We’re grilling Copper River Salmon. I thought I’d try to impress you a little with my first dinner.”

  “My mom always used to say there’s nothing sexier than a man who cooks.”

  Ted smiled a crooked smile at her. “Don’t you k
now it!”

  They sat on the couch and picked at the baked brie with apricot sauce en croute Ted pulled from the oven. Popo sat on the floor and gave them a melancholy stare, his eyes following every movement of the brie.

  “So, you’re going to be in Seattle for a year?”

  “At least. I have a contract to teach at the U for one year. We’ll see what happens after that.”

  “How are you liking it so far?”

  “It’s cold.” Maria shuddered and pulled her arms around herself. “I heard that it rains a lot here, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold so soon.”

  Ted laughed. “You ain’t seen cold yet. This is still late summer. You’re used to Mexican weather. This is shorts and sandals weather for Seattleites. When the bad weather comes, I’ll let you know.”

  “Back home I’d be wearing a light dress for a night out this time of year.” Maria grabbed a pillow off of the couch and put it over her lap. “But here I am in jeans, boots and a sweater. And that’s still not enough.”

  “I’ll light the fire,” Ted said. He got up and opened the glass doors on the fireplace.

  He touched his fire-starter to the previously set fire in several places. The flames leapt up. While he had the fire starter in his hand, he lit the candles on the mantle.

  “A fire always makes the room more cheery.” He leaned against the mantle for a moment and looked at her.

  Was this really true? Was she really here?

  He reached over and pushed a button on the stereo. Michael Bublé started singing that he just hadn’t met you yet.

  “I can fire the salmon whenever you’re ready. You hungry?”

  “Starved. I haven’t eaten all day.” Maria took a sip of her wine. “I hate to admit it, but I was really nervous. About coming here, I mean, to a man’s apartment, for dinner. Alone.”

  Ted didn’t know what to say. “You’re never alone,” he finally stammered and patted Popo’s side.

  “In Mexico,” Maria went on, “it’s just not done.”

  “Welcome to the good ole US of A.” Ted smiled. “We do a lot of things that aren’t done in Mexico.”