A waiter appeared, removing her table setting. Another waiter made quick work of the mess she had made behind me. “Another scotch, sir?”
I was going to refuse and ask for the bill, but to my surprise, after the initial gawking, everyone around me went back to their meals, not in the least put out.
I was sure I should be more embarrassed than I was, yet I felt only relief. A scene was a small price to pay to be rid of her. I had realized as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I was ready for her to be gone. She was tiresome and taxing. Constantly at me over every detail in her life—most of which I had no interest in. Demanding gifts—of the kind that came in a box and that of my time. The kind I could buy were easier to give, but my time was limited, and I was over it. All of it. I needed to take a break from women completely and concentrate on my career.
“Yes, please. I’d like my dinner as soon as possible. I’m starving. Bring me her salad as well. I’ll eat it all.”
He nodded sagely. “Very good, sir.”
I picked up my phone, grateful the water hadn’t hit it. I would be lost without it. It was as necessary to me as breathing these days. I smirked wryly—I was glad she had chosen the water. I had a feeling red wine would have stung as well if she had been lucky enough to have hit me with it.
I went back to my emails, thankful for the distraction.
At least I wouldn’t have to send her flowers. But I was going to block her number from my phone and instruct Rene I was no longer taking her calls and she wasn’t welcome in the office.
He was going to laugh gleefully when I told him.
Bastard.
Halton
I strode through the door, past Rene, and into my private office, slamming the door closed. I flung my briefcase on the sofa and sat down heavily, resting my head back on the cool leather. It felt good against the anger-flushed skin on my neck. Words from the case this morning echoed in my head.
“But your honor, it’s not in the best interest of the child!” I argued, knowing my words would fall on deaf ears but determined to try.
Judge Sparks lifted one eyebrow in my direction, her voice filled with derision. “I’ll decide what is in the best interest of the child, counselor.”
“It’s not the mother,” I spat. I indicated my client, sitting beside me, his shoulders slumped. “Her father has great concern about her mother’s influence on her. He doesn’t wish to deny her visitation, but he feels it would be best if he were the primary caregiver for her.”
The judge shook her head. “I disagree. I believe the child belongs with her mother. Your client gets visitation. I suggest he make the best use of it.”
The gavel was loud in the courtroom, announcing the end of the case and her exit. I met Eric’s disappointed gaze.
“We can appeal. Try for a different judge.” I hated getting Judge Sparks. She always sided with the mother. Add in the snake of a lawyer Eric’s wife had retained and the decision hadn’t shocked me, but I had hoped things would be different.
He shook his head. “I can’t put Maddy through more, Hal.” He sighed. “We’ve tried everything.” He glanced over to where his ex-wife stood, talking to the other lawyer, the glow of victory evident on her face. “All I can hope is she tires of the responsibility fast. That once she feels I’ve been punished enough, she’ll let me have Maddy,” he added, studying his ex-wife. “I can hope for that, and in the meantime, be there when Maddy needs me and try to undo the negative influence Audrey has on her.”
I followed his worried gaze. His ex-wife was a nutjob. Much too focused on keeping her daughter skinny and making sure she hung with the “right kids,” rather than allowing her to be a little girl. She treated Maddy like a friend instead of a child, using her eight-year-old as a sounding board for her problems. Nothing was ever right for Audrey, and she complained endlessly.
Her constant criticism had driven Eric away, and he had fought to keep Maddy, hating the way his ex-wife made Maddy feel and act. I had personally seen how her mother affected her. She became withdrawn and nervous with her mother, always quiet and proper, the light gone from her eyes. She assumed the mantle of her mother’s sadness, acting as if it were her own. But with Eric, she was happy and loved. She laughed and played—got dirty and asked for hugs. He put no expectations on her aside from being a little girl. That was what she needed. To be loved unconditionally. Not to be treated like a mini adult and carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
But her mother’s lawyer had spun everything. Used the guilt Maddy felt to make sure she asked to stay with her mother. Somehow got the judge he wanted. Produced affidavits from friends and colleagues saying how close Maddy and Audrey were. I had no idea how her lawyer, Scott Hutchings, had so many people lie for her, but he did. He did it all the time. He was my nemesis, and I hated everything he stood for.
Which basically was that winning was everything—no matter what you had to do to achieve it.
No matter whose life you screwed up.
The sound of my door opening brought me out of my musings. Rene entered, carrying a tray. He slid it onto the low table in front of me.
“I brought you coffee and a sandwich. Eat, dwell, then shake it off. You did everything you could, Halton. I know it. You know it. Your client knows it. At least you got more visitation than they were offering and stricter rules in place about co-parenting.”
I sighed, accepting the steaming mug he was holding out for me. “I know. Eric thinks she’ll slip back into her old ways of finding Maddy more trouble than she’s worth. I told him to keep records, emails, texts, and to tape all their phone calls.”
“Then we’ll let her self-combust. Eric will keep an eye on his child. He loves her too much not to.” He paused. “And you have other clients who need you.”
“I know. One of them is against Hutchings again. I hate that lowlife. He’s the sort that gives us lawyers a bad rap.”
Rene slid a folder onto the table. “I found some information that should help on that case. The father’s been giving into his love for gambling. He dipped into the savings they had for their son’s college fund.”
I whistled. “He was on thin ice already—even with Hutchings on his case.”
Rene chuckled. “I know. Amy hadn’t even looked at that account. I noticed the discrepancy and asked her to get me the records. I got the contact Reid Matthews put us in touch with to do some digging as well.” He tapped the folder. “Wyatt found some interesting things.”
“Excellent. Reid did us a solid, finding him. If I can’t have the master, one of his disciples is a great replacement.”
Rene laughed. I had used Reid a couple of times for special cases. The brilliant genius IT man for my friend Bentley’s company BAM, Reid had been invaluable.
And totally loyal to Bentley, no matter how much I offered him to come to my firm. Finally, he had recommended a friend of his, who was almost as good as Reid. He was great coming up with information I could use in cases. Even things I couldn’t use but helped steer me down a more legal avenue. His one stipulation was he worked from home—he hated everything that smacked of “the man” and the corporate world.
Except the large retainer I paid him. That, he accepted happily, and I had to respect his honesty. He hadn’t let me down, and I was glad to have his services.
Especially when up against someone as dirty as Scott Hutchings.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“Are you not sleeping at all?” Rene asked.
I waved my hand, not wanting to get into it with him. “I’m fine.”
He waited, pinning me with his stern gaze.
“Fine,” I acquiesced. “The insomnia is worse right now.”
“You really need to see someone about that, Halton.”
I shook my head. “Nothing has worked. Ever. A couple of hours of broken sleep seem to be all I get most nights. If that.”
“It doesn’t look like you’re getting even that much.”
He was right, but I wasn’t going to tell him. Fifteen- or twenty-minute naps off and on were all I was able to get these days. I was exhausted.
He opened his mouth to talk, and I held up my hand. “I’ll try the medication again if I can’t break the cycle soon.”
His mouth tightened, but he remained silent. Rene knew how much I hated taking medication and, even worse, how the side effects made me feel. But I was getting desperate enough to deal with the sluggishness that lingered. It might be better than the exhaustion, but I still resisted.
He pushed the tray closer, walked to the door, and paused. “You need to take better care of yourself.”
I had no fast retort to shout after him. I knew he was probably right, but I had no idea how to do a better job.
I picked up my sandwich, taking a bite.
I thought about what he’d said regarding the case. He was right. I’d done all I could for Eric. I could only hope his knowledge of the way his wife worked held true and, in a short time, Maddy would be back with him on a more permanent basis. I would go back to court to fight for the legal documents to make it forever.
I flipped open the file Rene handed me, determined this time my client would win out. I took the losses hard, because, to me, they were personal.
Every single case.
I rubbed my tired eyes, glancing toward the clock. I wasn’t surprised to see it was past nine. Darkness had descended outside, the only light in my office the reading lamp behind me. My lined notepad was filled with my “chicken scratch,” as Rene called it. Wyatt had found a lot of bad behavior from my client’s soon-to-be ex-husband, some of which would help disprove his side of the story and give any judge pause before granting him anything but supervised visitation.
I stood, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and sipping it as I stared out the window and thinking.
I only took cases I believed in. I fought for embattled spouses, kids too little to have their voices heard, teenagers being screwed by the system. I dug and searched until I was certain my clients were on the up-and-up, refusing to represent anyone I felt was lying. You lied to me, and that was it. I removed myself from the case. The truth, I could handle, work with, figure out how to let it do the least amount of damage if it was bad. A lie ended it all. I had learned early in life how lies could destroy a person.
There were no second chances with me—ever.
My stomach rumbled, interrupting my musings. I grabbed my coat, leaving my office the way it was. No one would enter without my permission. Not even the cleaners. They only came in when Rene was there to oversee them. I was too particular, and I didn’t like people in the office when it was empty. It was one of my quirks.
One of many, Rene would say.
I hurried across the street, the wind biting into my skin. The temperature had dropped, and rain was starting to fall. Autumn rain—the kind that dampened your clothes and got under your skin no matter what you were wearing. I shivered as I stepped into the neighborhood bar. I shrugged out of my coat, shaking it to get off some of the moisture, then headed toward the corner and my favorite booth. The bar was surprisingly empty for a Friday night and I was grateful. I ordered a half pint of Guinness on tap and one of their house-made burgers. I needed the meat and carbs. I hadn’t eaten anything except the sandwich, and that had been hours ago.
I settled against the worn bench, the padding on the seat thin, and scarred wood carved deep with various initials, dates, and hearts of loves long dead. I scrolled through my phone, switching profiles to my personal one. There were a few emails from advertisers, which I deleted. A couple of personal ones from friends inquiring about dinner or a show, which I quickly replied to as having to take a rain check, and finally, one from my mother.
I paused, my thumb hovering over the banner, unsure if I wanted to read the message now, wait until later, or delete it without even reading. I had come over to the bar to decompress and relax. An email from my mother would probably have the opposite effect on me.
I set down the phone and picked up my Guinness, taking a long sip. My gaze wandered, and I caught the eyes of a woman sitting at the bar. Her scrutiny never wavered, meeting my eyes steadily.
Bright silver and gray hair brushed past her shoulders in waves, hanging loosely around a pretty face. Glasses were perched on the end of her nose, giving her an impish look. Judging from her proximity to the bar, she was short. She wore a blue coat, draped over her shoulders as if to ward off the chill. In front of her was a Guinness—the same as mine. She lifted it in a silent toast, and with a smirk, I lifted my glass, then picked up my phone again. I had no interest in a cougar—even a highly attractive one. I glanced up quickly again—she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. My burger arrived, and I deleted my mother’s message without reading it and dismissed the thoughts of the pretty woman at the bar. I was hungry.
I switched profiles, checking my business one, knowing anything important would have been handled earlier by Rene. So, it was more to catch up from what had happened during the day and see if anything new had come in that I had to look at.
I scrolled as I ate. The thick burger oozed cheese and bacon, satisfying my hunger. I polished off the salad and fries, then pushed away my plate and ordered another small beer. While I was waiting, I finished my messages.
A Guinness slid in front of me, and I glanced up to say thanks. My eyes widened at the sight of the woman I had noticed at the bar, now standing by my table, her hand lingering on the glass she had placed in front of me.
“Is liquor the best way of getting your attention?” she asked.
Her voice was soft, lyrical almost in its quality. It was pleasant.
I shook my head. “My attention is focused on business right now, sorry.”
She slid into the booth opposite me. “Excellent. I was hoping you’d say that.”
I leaned back, studying her, shocked to realize she wasn’t an older woman at all. Despite the silver and gray hair, her face was youthful. She was younger than my thirty-six years—closer to thirty, I estimated. Her skin was ivory, with light color in her cheeks—from the alcohol or embarrassment, I didn’t know. Without her glasses on, her eyes were a verdant green—bright and clear against the color of her hair and skin. She wasn’t tall—below average I guessed, having not seen how high the heels were she had on her feet. She was delicate-looking—almost too thin in my opinion. Yet something about her gaze and the curve of her mouth hinted at intelligence, wit, and strength below the surface.
I sighed. “Listen, sweetheart. I’m flattered but not in the market right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s been a long week, and I just came in for a quiet beer and a bite to eat.”
The color in her cheeks deepened, but she refused to back down. “My, what an ego you have. Do all women you see hit on you?”
I shrugged. “Usually.”
She laughed quietly, pulling the coat tight around her shoulders. “I’m not here to proposition you, Mr. Smithers.”
I lifted one eyebrow in challenge. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”
She held out her hand. It was small, easily encompassed by my much larger one. “Fiona.”
“Nice to meet you, Fiona. May I be honest here?”
Her face hardened. “I prefer honest, Mr. Smithers.”
“Since you assure me you’re not here to proposition me, I’m not sure what you want or need, but tonight isn’t the night to ask me for it.” I slid a card across the table toward her. “If you’re looking for a donation to some charity, there’s a link on my site to direct you. If you’re a reporter, I don’t talk about my cases. If you have a legal issue, I suggest you call my office at the number on the card, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Frankly, it will be a while because my caseload is full up. Tell my assistant what you need, he’ll pass it along, and I’ll recommend someone for you.”
“I’m not after money or an interview. I need a lawyer. I
don’t want someone else. I want—I need—your services.”
I felt a flare of anger. I was tired. The week had been a difficult one, and I had a long weekend ahead of me of more work. I was slammed with cases and had decided a few weeks ago not to take on any new ones unless they were an emergency. Rene and I discussed any new prospective clients, and then we matched them up with other good, honorable attorneys I trusted, if possible. I couldn’t remember him mentioning anyone named Fiona, so I doubted she had even tried to get in contact. She was simply taking the short route, and it pissed me off to no end.
I stood, flinging some money on the table and leaving the untouched beer. “As I said, get in touch with my assistant.”
I strode from the bar, not bothering to look behind me. I headed across the street, deciding to call it a night and head home. I walked down the ramp of the parking garage toward my car, muttering under my breath about pushy women when I heard it.
Running feet behind me.
I pivoted. Fiona was racing across the parking lot, headed my way. She stopped in front of me, her breath coming out fast. She was short—at least a foot shorter than my 6’2”. Her hair, damp from the rain, clung to her head, and she was clutching her coat.
“Please,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Mr. Smithers. I simply didn’t know what else to do. I waited outside your office all night watching for you to come out.”
I ran a hand through my hair, my anger dispersing at her genuine distress. Up close, I could see the exhaustion on her face, the signs of sleepless nights and worry, all too familiar, that were etched into her skin.
“Call my office on Monday, Fiona,” I said, my voice calmer. “Tell Rene I said to fit you in.” I could at least listen to her.
She shook her head. “I tried that. Your pit-bull assistant won’t let me past him.”
Her description of Rene was accurate, but I frowned. Rene never made the judgment call. That was my responsibility.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You’ve called?”
Halton: Vested Interest #6 Page 2
