8:00. I hope that's not too late. Rob runs his hand through his hair and drops onto the brown leather sofa in his apartment. He kicks his shoes off and leans back. Then he leans forward again and yanks his socks off, tossing them over his shoulder. Wiggling his toes in the carpet, he stares at the ceiling.

Just pick up the phone. It's for the case. It has nothing to do with that dream you had last night.

He reaches for the phone, picking up the entire thing and setting it in his lap.

I just wish I could remember more of the details of that dream, he thinks, dialing the number now.

But it's probably better that I don't remember them.

"Hello?"

"Loretta?"

"Rob, hello," she says, recognizing his voice.

"I'm not calling too late, am I?"

"Robert, it's just past eight. I'm allowed to stay up till eleven if I eat all my dinner."

"Sorry, you're right," he laughs. "How are you?"

"Curious."

"All right, no small talk, then. I talked to Percy Andersen today and I met with Duncan and Ezra this evening."

"Wow, already?"

"I was surprised, too. I'm meeting with Percy tomorrow after work. In the meantime, I've got statements from both Duncan and Ezra. Poor Ezra," he says, shifting gears slightly.

"He still beatin' himself up?"

"Yeah. I hope talkin' about it will help, though. I think they were impressed… honored that you're fighting for them."

"It would be selfish to just look out for myself when there's so much more wrong there."

"I explained that, and Duncan said that it sounded like something you'd do," Rob says.

Lori laughs a little. "He's a good man, Duncan.

Daddy always liked him."

"Has a good head on his shoulders, yeah.

Smart."

"Is Percy with us?"

"Surprisingly, yes. He has some very good evidence for us. He made copies of all those requests before he submitted them."

"You're pullin' my leg!"

"No, he's got 'em. Bringin' 'em with tomorrow."

"That's… unbelievable."

"He's an interesting fellow," Rob says. He pauses then, debating. "Um, Loretta We were right. He is related to Alined."

"Oh, no…"

"But he says he's still willing to help you. Called Alined a 'slimeball.'"

"How're they related?"

"Uncle. He said he didn't want it spread around."

"Our secret," Lori promises.

"Until we need to let the cat out of the bag."

"He's goin' to need to tell," she agrees.

"Exactly. 'Cause if we don't divulge that information, you'd better believe that Alfred Boudreaux will be all over it like there was a dollar trapped inside."

"Alfred Boudreaux? He's Alined's lawyer?"

"According to my pop, yes."

"He's kind of a…"

"Bastard. If you'll excuse the language."

"You haven't been 'round my brother enough.

I've heard it all," she laughs.

"How did Elliot take the news?"

"About how I 'spected. He was mad that I didn't talk to him about it, but he's fine now.

Supportin' me."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Me, too."

"Um," he pauses, not sure where to go now.

"Marcus managed to get your father's work records for me today. Alined's assistant is an uncooperative son of a bi—"

Lori laughs as Robert censors himself again.

"Yeah, Daddy mentioned him once or twice.

Called him a 'toady.'"

"Sounds about right." He pauses a moment.

"Loretta, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Are you and Elliot… all right? I mean, financially? I know you said your father had some savings, but…"

"We're doing okay. The house is near paid for."

"House?"

"He and mama managed to buy a house. It ain't much, and I live the apartment upstairs. Elliot lives downstairs. With Daddy, when he was still with us."

"I see."

"I paid rent, too, nice and proper."

"Have you had someone look at your father's accounts? I'm only asking because we have a really good numbers guy in the office, and if you want I can set up an appointment for you. I'm sure he'll be able to get things sorted just right for you and Elliot."

"That's… very thoughtful. Thank you, Robert. Let me run it by Elliot and I'll let you know," she says, and he can hear the smirk in her voice.

"Not gonna make that mistake another time, hey?" he chuckles.

"Darn right."

They're both silent a moment, neither knowing what to say or how to end the conversation.

"Well—"

"Um—"

They laugh nervously. "I'll be in touch again after I talk to Percy tomorrow," he says.

"All right."

"Goodnight, Loretta."

"Goodnight, Robert."

Rob drops his head back against the couch. I shouldn't be thinking like this. She's a client.

She's colored. She's pretty. She's smart. She's funny. She genuinely cares about people. She's not like anyone I've ever met before.

She's a client.

She's colored.

Don't be stupid, Robert. It's just a… an infatuation.

Curiosity. That's it. Doing… anything with this girl could be very dangerous. For her.

Stop it.

Across town, as Lori settles down into bed for the night several hours later, the last thing she hears in her mind before she drifts off to sleep is Rob's voice.

Goodnight, Loretta.

TBC

5
"Andersen," Percy picks up his phone the next morning.

"Percy. Robert."

"Um…"

"I'm only going to say two words, all right?"

"Okay."

"Accident reports."

"Understood."

Click.

Percy hangs up the phone, stares at it a moment, and then goes back to his file cabinet.

He pulls open the drawer and withdraws another folder, placing it in the bottom drawer with the other.

Rob heads out of his office door in search of lunch. As he pulls the door open, his phone rings.

"Aw, I'm hungry…" he complains, but goes back to answer his phone anyway.

"Robert Carter."

"Hello, Robert?"

"Loretta," he says, his voice brightening.

"I just have a few moments, but I did speak to my brother this morning. He was actually happy to have your man take a look at Daddy's affairs.

He'd been worryin' about it, but he didn't know what to do."

"I'll talk to Geoffrey and see what he has available. Is there a number I can reach you at?"

"Not 'til I'm done here at school. I'll call you around three."

Just then Rob sees the man in question walking past his door. "Geoffrey!" he yells, then, "Sorry," to Lori, who starts giggling on the other end of the line.

"You need me, Rob?" Geoffrey says, appearing in the doorway.

"Yes," he says. "Hang on one moment," he tells Lori. "I have an estate that needs seein' to. Do you have some time for a client of mine?"

"From the wrongful death case? Ah, let me think. I have some time this afternoon, in fact."

Geoffrey pulls a small appointment book out of his breast pocket.

"Did you hear that?" Rob relays to Lori.

"Yes, but what time?"

"Time?"

"3:30 should work," Geoffrey says, tapping his book.

"That should be fine," Lori says before Rob can ask.

"Thanks, Geoffrey," Rob says.

"You're welcome," Geoffrey nods, and exits.

"He seems… businesslike…"lori says.

"Yeah, he's a bit stuffy, but he's good people."

"He's okay with…?"

"Loretta, everyone in this office knows who you are and what color your skin is, darlin', so don't feel you have to keep checkin', okay?"

Darlin'? "Thank you, Rob. I have to go. My afternoon students will be here soon."

"Maybe I'll see you later,"Rob says.

"Maybe."

After lunch, Rob sits at his desk and stares, tapping his pencil on his desk. The clock on his bookcase ticks stalwartly away.

Repair requests… accident reports… work records… what else?

Repair requests… accident reports…

Rob stands and goes to a file cabinet, pulling out a form.

Five minutes later he picks up his phone and presses a three-digit number.

"Yes?"

"Lisa, where's—"

"I'll send him over, Duckling."

"Thanks."

A minute later, Marcus opens Rob's door.

Rob just sighs. "Marcus, please take this downtown and have it processed. Find out how quickly you can get it back." He hands the paper to Marcus.

Marcus looks at the form. "Really? You're going to try and go into the lion's den?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Not me. I need… that guy. You know. The guy," Rob says, snapping his fingers, trying to dredge up the name.

"Oh! That guy," Marcus nods, knowing who Rob is talking about now.

"What is his name?"

"You're honestly asking me?"

"Right. Stupid of me. Get going," Rob waves him off and dials his father's direct number now.

"Carter," Shawn answers.

"Me, too," Rob replies. "Pop, what's that guy's name?"

"I'm going to need a little more information, Robert."

"You know, that guy. You know, the creepy one.

The fix-it guy."

"Jack Aredian?"

"Yes! Him!" Rob yells.

"You want to hire him?" Shawn asks. "You'll need a court order for what he needs to do."

"I just sent Marcus. I have a plan, Pop."

"Let me get you his number. Mention you're my son or he won't even give you the time of day."

"Right, because there are so many Carters in Memphis," Rob says sarcastically. "Last I checked it was only you and me."

"Do you want the number or not?"

"Hit me."
TBC

I hope Robert's plan succeed. Oya fire down

Nice update , But really is it just me or do you make use of dialogue alot in this new story of yours...? Dialogue fast paces , and I know that's what you wanna do but try to also draw ur readers into the story through narration and little bt important descriptions just lieh u did to me in ur last story .... anyways keep up the good work,

Buy your TBC and BTC T affordable prices
Whatsapp or call 09035025024.
Tested and trusted!
#Cryptos

Buy your TBC and BTC at affordable prices.
Whatsapp or call 09035025024.
Tested and trusted!
#Cryptos

Rob looks at his watch. 4:45. I hope everything's going okay for her. He had wanted to see Lori when she arrived for her 3:30 appointment with Geoffrey, and only realized that he missed her when he looked up at the clock and saw that it was 3:42. He'd been closed up in his office for the last hour, reading up on other wrongful death cases, particularly ones involving workplace accidents, and found that he was inexplicably irritated with himself for missing her.

I am not a stalker. I am not a stalker. Rob strolls down the corridor, looking like he's got a purpose. When he passes Geoffrey's closed door, he frowns at it.

What the hell is my problem, anyway?

Just then Geoffrey's door opens, and Rob's eyes are drawn like a moth to flame.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Morton, I can't tell you how much I appreciate the help you've given my brother and me," Lori is saying.

"Just doing my job, Miss Thompson," Geoffrey says. "Ah, Rob, I believe you know Miss Thompson."

"Indeed I do," Rob says. "Hello, Loretta."

"Hi, Robert" she greets him, clutching a thick folder to her chest. "Thank you again for recommending I see Mr. Morton. He's just made Elliot's and my life a whole lot easier."

"Just a little creative rearranging. We consolidated some things, transferred some other things. Simple," Geoffrey says.

"For you, maybe," Rob says. "I'm just headin' out to Gareth's to meet with Percy. I'll walk you out."

Geoffrey nods and withdraws to his office.

"Is Gareth's your second office now?" Lori asks.

"I don't like staying here late. Have you been to Gareth's? I know Elliot has."

"Yes, he's been there, but he's never bothered to invite me along," Lori says.

"You should come out sometime. I know Marcus would love for you to hear him play."

"I would like to hear Marcus play," she says, waiting as Rob ducks into his office to grab a couple things.

"If you're not doing anything now, why don't you come along with me?" he asks softly.

She stops walking. "Robert I can't be goin' to no tavern with a white man. I know you don't have any intentions, but other people don't know that."

Rob presses his lips together. I can't believe I didn't even think of that. "Of course, you're right.

I'm sorry, Loretta, I didn't mean to…"

"It's all right, Rob, I know. Tell you what. Next time Elliot goes, I'll tag along, and maybe I'll see you." They start walking again.

"Fair enough."

They exit into the lobby. "Good night, Mr. Carter," Vivian practically sings after them.

"Oh, good night, Miss Thompson," she adds, almost an afterthought.

"Vivian," Rob says, hardly glancing her way.

"Good night, Vivian," Lori says pleasantly, smiling at her.

Outside, Lori smirks at him. "Your receptionist is sweet on you."

"What? Vivian?"

"Lord, you didn't see the eyes she was makin' at you when you walked past? 'Good night, Mr. Carter,'" she sings, mocking Vivian's tone exactly.

Rob laughs. "No…"

"Yes! She blushes every time she talks to you. I saw it the first time I came here."

Rob shrugs.

"You ain't interested? She's very pretty."

"If you like that type," he says noncommittally.

"You don't?"

"That's irrelevant," he says, a little too hastily.

"She works for my father, for one. Second, well, she's kind of an idiot. And spoiled."

"Spoiled?"

"She doesn't need to work at all. Her daddy made her get a job because he's afraid some man is going to lead her astray and, I don't know, ruin her or something. He figures if she's trapped behind a desk all day she can't get herself into trouble. I reckon."

"What does he do with her at night? Lock her in a tower?"

Lori laughs. "I wouldn't put it past him."

"This your car?" he points to a large green Chevy Impala parked by the curb.

"It was Daddy's," she says. "It's a bit big for me, but I don't have much choice."

Lori nods.

"You're gonna be late for Percy," she says.

"Oh, yeah. Right. I'll call you if I have any news from the meeting," he says, watching her stand there in the sunlight, still holding the folder to her chest. Idly wishing somewhere in the back of his brain that he was that folder.

"All right. Have a good night, Rob," she says, walking around to unlock her door.

"You, too."

TBC

I dunno what to say, it's no different from reading a novel. You rock sis

5:03 and Rob is entering Gareth's, irritated that he's late. He scans the tavern. I should have asked Percy what he looked like, he thinks, then his eyes land on an exceedingly clean-cut young man, sitting straight in a chair at a table.

He sits at attention. That must be him. He walks over. "Percy?"

Percy nods and stands, extending an arm the size of a country ham ending in a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. Rob shakes his hand and introduces himself.

"Robert Carter" he says, looking up at the man.

Rob had always considered himself to be fairly good-sized, an even six feet tall, muscular and fit. Quarterback on both his high school and college football teams; fighting fit. He's used to being in the company of Marcus, who, while an inch or so taller, is pretty scrawny.

Next to Percy Andersen, Rob feels like a runt.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rob asks, sitting now. Percy sits as well, nodding, sliding the folders over to him.

"Yes. These are the repair forms, these are the accident reports."

"There's a lot here," Robert remarks, opening the folder. "You hungry?"

"I'm always hungry," Percy says. "And I smell fried chicken." He looks hopefully towards the door to the kitchen.

"Gareth" Rob calls, waving him over.

"Another meeting, Robie?" Gareth asks, sauntering over.

Rob cringes, and Gareth grins. Rob says nothing, refusing to engage him. "My guest here claims he smells fried chicken."

"You have a good nose, my…" he pauses as his hand connects with Percy's shoulder, " large friend."

"Well, then, set us up. I have a feeling that Percy here can probably put away a fair amount, so don't be stingy."

Gareth chuckles and nods, wandering away.

"Business expense," Rob says just as Percy is opening his mouth to protest.

"Thanks," he says.

Rob flips through the forms. "These are even in chronological order. Very nice. That will make things very helpful. May I borrow these for a while?"

"Yes, of course. Alined doesn't know I have them anyway. But how do all of these relate to Tom's death?"

"Well, this trial ain't strictly about just Tom.

Loretta isn't out for cash compensation. She wants things to be safer, better for everyone there."

"Oh," Percy leans back, slightly surprised.

"That's really…"

"Thoughtful?" Rob supplies. "Ah, chicken," he says when Gareth sets a platter heaped with chicken on the table for Rob and Percy. He also gives them each a plate with some greens and cornbread. "And cornbread, too. Gareth, you'll make some man a mighty fine wife one day," he says, laughing as Gareth smacks him on the back of the head and walks away. "Hey!

We need some drinks here, man!"

Gareth returns a minute later with Dr. Pepper again, knowing that Rob is working and won't be drinking any alcohol, and he prefers Dr. Pepper over anything else.

"So. Where were we? Ah. What I plan to do with these," he points to the folders with a chicken leg, "is cross-reference them to determine which of the accidents relate to repairs that did not get done."

Percy nods, his mouth full. He swallows. "Damn, this is good chicken. And that's a good plan. I wish we could get the originals of these repair requests. That would prove that they haven't been done. See this space here?" He points to a blank on the bottom corner of the form. "That would be initialed by the maintenance man when he completes the repair. That's the only way we would know. And the originals would be in Alined's office. Or in Trickler's desk."

"Trickler?" Rob takes his notebook out now.

"Dennis Trickler. Alined's, um, 'personal assistant.' Really he's a sniveling little yes-man.

I think he's queer for Alined, the way he follows him around."

"Um, okaayyyy…" Rob doesn't quite know what to make of this information. "So it's doubtful we'd be able to convince him to testify against your uncle, then."

"Please don't call him that," Percy says, making a face.

Rob had noticed that Percy has not once referred to Eugene Alined as anything other than "Alined." Not Uncle Eugene, not Uncle, not even Eugene. "So what's going on with you and him?

He gave you a job but you hate him. What happened there?"

Percy bites his lip and looks at his plate.

"Percy, if you don't tell me, Boudreaux will drag it out of you on the witness stand. It's better if I know everything up front so we can be prepared for anything. I realize it's probably difficult, but I may be able to spin it to our advantage."

"Well, there is something you should know about Alined," Percy says.
TBC

"Elliot, where are you off to?" Lori asks, washing the dinner dishes.

"Out," he says, tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Out where?" she presses.

"You ain't my mama," he shoots back, and she flicks the dishtowel at him.

"I'm just wonderin', is all."

"Why, you fixin' to come along?"

"Maybe. Depends on where you goin'."

"Gareth's."

Do I dare? Lori thinks, wondering why her heart seems to be speeding up. "Do you mind if I tag along?"

"'Course you can come. But why you interested now?"

"I'd like to hear that Marcus play the piano," she says, deciding that it was a safe enough excuse. "I'm hoping that Rob is still there" would not go over well at all.

Not that I'm hoping Rob will be there. That is not a good idea at all. No matter how many times he says I'm pretty or calls me "darlin'"

"Oh," Elliot says, furrowing his brows a little.

"You almost done there?"

"I'd be faster if you'd get off your tail and help," she says, throwing the towel at his head now.

"Fine," he sighs, standing and crossing to help dry the dishes.

"I made your dinner, least you can do is help clean up," she mutters.

Twenty minutes later they walk into Gareth's, Lori slightly behind Elliot as they enter the slightly smoky dimness.


"Elliot, who is this angel come from heaven?" a voice, slightly smoky like the atmosphere in the bar, greets them.

"This is Lori," Elliot introduces her to Gareth, who holds his hand out to her.

"Lori," he says, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "I'm Gareth. Allow me to welcome you to my humble establishment."

Lori's eyes grow wide at the actions of this strange white man. She delicately extracts her hand from his. "Thank you," she manages.

"Yes, indeed, you are most certainly an angel.

Where you been hidin' her, Elliot?"

"He hasn't been hidin' me anywhere," Lori says. "And if I'm an angel, then surely you are the devil himself, sir."

Gareth laughs loudly at this, actually delighted with her assessment. "Hold on to this one, El. I like her; she's quick."

"She's my sister, Gareth," Elliot says, "so hangin' on to ain't the problem, it's gettin' rid of."

"Elliot!" Lori punches his shoulder now, and Garetg laughs even harder.

"What can I get you to drink, Miss Lori?"

"Something without alcohol," she says. Gareth gives her a bottle of Pepsi and a straw.

"Lori. Gareth. Our names are almost the same," he grins. "Lori-Gary-Lori-Gary," he says quickly, as if it were a tongue-twister.

"Almost," she laughs. "But I would be very surprised indeed if your full name was Garetta."

Finally Gareth is rendered speechless, and Lori turns from the bar while he stares, dumbfounded.

"Where is Marcus?" she asks, her eyes unwittingly falling on a familiar golden blonde head.

"Hey, Garetta," Elliot calls, "Where's Marcus?"

"Takin' a break. He'll be out in a couple. And shut up."

Elliot laughs, basking in his sister's victory over Gareth in verbal sparring. "Ain't that your lawyer friend there?" Elliot has spotted Rob now, too.

"Yes," Lori says blankly.

Elliot gives her a sideways look that clearly says You best be comin' here to hear Marcus play, not to see Blonde Mr. Charlie. Lori ignores him.

"You not goin' to go say hello?"

"He's workin'."

"He's eatin'."

"He's workin', Elliot. See the papers on the table? Behind the chicken? And that's Percy Andersen with him."

"How do you know?"

"I knew he was meetin' with him tonight, that's how," she snaps. "They're workin' on our case."

"Well, from the looks o' things, Mr. Andersen has just told – what's his name? Robert – something pretty shockin'."

Wonder if it has somethin' to do with Alined, she thinks, sipping her drink. She hasn't told Elliot about Percy and Alined being related.

Marcus wanders out now, leaning behind the bar and grabbing a bottle of 7-Up for himself.

"Lori!" he exclaims.

"Hi, Marcus," she says, smiling at him. "I came to see you play."

"Hey, thanks! I'm just headin' back up there," he says. "Hey…"

"Elliot," Lori supplies, reminding him.

"Elliot, right," Marcus grins, holding his hand out to shake Elliot's hand.

"Marcus," Elliot nods. "Just you tonight?"

"Yeah. Aaron and Fred are playin' over at Jook's. They don't let me in there."

"Why not?" Lori asks.

"Because I'm white, obviously," Marcus says, shrugging. "Aaron tried. Even had Tony come over here and listen to me play. He said I was good, but it was too risky, even though I would be the one takin' the risk."

"Hmm," Lori says, mulling this over. I never thought about the fact that it might be difficult for a white Irish boy to try to make a name for himself playin' colored music. Of course I never thought I'd meet a white Irish boy who was trying to play colored music.

"Hey, I'm not payin' you to stand around and wave your gums, Marcs," Gareth says. "I'm payin' you to sit around and wave your fingers.

So get goin'."

"All right, all right," Marcus waves his free hand dismissively at Garreth.

"You pay for that 7-Up?" Gareth calls. Marcus pantomimes like he can't hear Gareth, taking a long drink from his bottle.

He sits down at the piano, and Lori moves forward, closer to the makeshift stage. Around her she hears some muttering, people that are obviously not familiar with Marcus, wondering what kind of music is going to be coming out of that piano.

Marcus takes another drink and sets the bottle on top of the piano next to an empty and slightly smudged Mason jar. He bends over the keys and begins to play.

"Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho" comes forth, jaunty and swinging, winning over some immediately. Others are still skeptical, but while Loru notices they keep their comments quiet, she has a feeling Marcus knows they're being made.

She glances over at Rob again, and he looks more relaxed, seeming to be chatting with Percy now. She watches surreptitiously.

He's telling Percy about Marcus, she guesses, noting that he points in the piano player's direction once or twice.

"Do you want to get a table?" Elliot asks.

"You don't have to babysit me, Elliot," she tells him. "I know you have your eye on that tall gal over there."

"Do not," Elliot argues.

"You can't lie to me and you know it. I'll be fine; go talk to her before that man in the red shirt beats you to it."

"What man in a red shirt?" he asks, straightening up and looking around. He doesn't see anyone in a red shirt.

Lori smirks knowingly at him and he stomps stubbornly away, towards the girl.

Marcus finishes his song and Lori sets her Pepsi down to applaud loudly. Several others join in, and Lori smiles. Then she gets an idea.

She digs into her purse and pulls out two dimes. Holding her head high, she strides forward, drops the dimes in Marcus's Mason jar, and smiles at him.

Marcus grins back and starts another tune, something newer. "Blue Train," by John Coltrane. Lori sees some appreciative nods among the crowd. She also feels a set of blue eyes on her before she sees the familiar handsome face watching her walk back to her table.

Loru waves shyly, and is about to sit when he waves her over.

Go and say hello. Then come back to your own table.

"Rob, hello," she says. She approaches the table and both men stand.

"Well, this is a surprise," he smiles lazily at her.

"I wasn't expectin' to see you here tonight."

"Well, Elliot was headin' out here, coincidentally enough. Percy, nice to see you."

"Hello, Lori," Percy says, nodding at her.

"Thank you so much for helping us with this case. I really can't say how grateful I am," she tells him, looking up at him.

"Please, sit," Rob motions to a chair.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't…"

"Loretta, it's fine," Rob says. "Sit and talk for a minute, then you won't be bothered by me calling you later."

"All right," she says, sitting. The two men follow suit. "What is all this?"

"Chicken bones, mostly," Rob answers.

"Not this, " she waves at the carnage before her, "this." She points to the folders.

"Unfulfilled repair requests and accident reports.

I'm going to figure out how they relate to each other."

"Oh, I see. If you can prove that…" she picks up a form, "Michael Simpson was injured by a…" she picks up another, "scissor lift that was in need of repairs…"

"Then we can not only make our case, but perhaps even get the Simpson family some compensation. Lost wages, hospital bills, that kind of thing."

Lori's face breaks into a smile that Rob could only describe as beautiful. "Um, I have another trick up my sleeve as well."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I was telling Percy here that my father has a man that I'd like to have come to the warehouse and maybe even the factory, if I can sneak him in that far. We call him the fix-it man."

"What's he fix?"

"Everything. He's a mechanical genius, and a complete nut for safety. He's also one of the scariest people you'll ever meet. But he's my father's friend, and he's agreed to help. Seemed pretty keen on it, actually."

"When?"

"Soon as we get the court order allowing the inspection. Hopin' for tomorrow, but Friday's more likely."

"What will he do?"

"Inspect the machinery and equipment. Make notes on his findings. I'm not gonna give him these," he points to the repair requests. "I don't want to influence his work. Not that it would, prob'ly, but the whole point is if Jack Aredian finds the same problems as what's on these papers…"

"Then Alined is in big trouble."

Rob nods. "He'll probably find more, if I were to hazard a guess."

"Why is he scary?"

"He's just very… severe. He doesn't really talk much. His face is unreadable. All business. I've been tempted to poke him with something sharp to make sure he's human, actually," he chuckles. "Don't know if he'd bleed blood or machine oil."

Lori laughs and takes a sip of her Pepsi, glancing up at Marcus again. "He's very good," she comments. "Seems to be favoring John Coltrane, I notice."

"His latest obsession," Rob comments absently. He glances at Percy. "Can I tell her what you told me before? I think she should know."

"Know what?" Rob asks.

Percy shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

"She'll keep it under wraps, Percy, I promise.

She already knows you're related to him. I told her because it is relevant to her case. And so is this."

Percy nods. "All right."
TBC

Nnenna fire up and kill this story

6
"Already? Excellent," Rob says when Marcus hands him the much-awaited court order. He picks up the phone and dials Jack Aredian.

Half an hour later Rob and Aredian are waiting by the warehouse entrance.

"Where is your man, Carter? You did say eleven a.m."

"He'll be here. He's got a warehouse to run, Mr. Aredian, he may have gotten waylaid—ah."

The door opens and Percy's head pokes out. "Hey," he says. "Sorry I'm a little late, I was—"

"It's just two minutes, Percy, no harm done," Rob says, ignoring Aredian's glower. They follow him inside and Aredian's eyes are already scanning every surface. He takes out a notebook and makes a few notes already.

"Jack Aredian, this is Percy Andersen. He's the warehouse manager here," Rob introduces the two men. Percy extends his hand and Aredian shakes it briefly.

"I'd like to begin," he says.

Duncan jogs up now. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

"Yes," Percy says. "I thought it might, um, look better if Duncan here showed Mr. Aredian around. To the men, I mean. I don't want anyone to interfere with what Mr. Aredian is doing, and the men trust Duncan."

"I see," Rob nods. "That all right with you, Mr. Aredian?"

Aredian nods once, and waves his pen, indicating that he'd like to proceed.

"Mr. Aredian, if you'd follow me," Duncan says.

"We'll start with the loading dock. That's where I work."

"Duncan," Rob grabs his shoulder lightly. "No chit-chat, okay? He doesn't do chit-chat. With anyone. Just take him where he wants to go," he whispers.

Duncan nods. "Understood." He turns back to the impatient Aredian. "This way, sir."

Rob turns to Percy. "Don't worry. I have a court order saying we're allowed to be here. In fact, Alined should be receiving his papers any day now. Or Boudreaux may get them."

"In either case, he'll find out soon enough, right?" Percy says. "You want a tour while we're waiting?"

"Sure."
TBC

Rob has been on pins and needles, waiting for it to be late enough in the day to call Loretta.

She said she was done at school at 2:45 and was able to be here by 3:15. It's 3:02.

He picks up the phone and dials. The phone rings interminably, and just when he is about to hang up, she answers, breathless. "Hello?"

"Loretta," he blurts, not even a hello.

"Robert! I just walked in the door! What's goin' on?"

"Our fix-it guy had a very enlightening visit to Alined Paper today."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," she says and hangs up the phone.

Rob hears the click and stares at the handset in his hand for a moment before hanging it up.

Nine and a half minutes later, his phone rings.

"Robert Carter."

"Mr. Carter, Miss Thompson to see you," Vivian tells him.

"Very good. Send her back, please."

"Of course, sir."

Rob hangs up and he thinks about what Lori told him the day before. Your receptionist is sweet on you. He could hear it in Vivian's voice just then. The… expectation, the hope.

Too bad I don't find her the least bit attractive.

She's probably only interested because I would probably be "acceptable" to Olaf. Yes, I'm sure that's it.

There is a light knock on his door. "Come in," he calls.

"Hello," she says, poking her head inside. He stands and smiles, directing her to the chair opposite his desk.

"Hello, Loretta," he sits once she's seated.

She notices he doesn't seem to be able to stop smiling.

"So the inspection went well?"

He nods, handing her a stack of papers. "For us, it was fantastic. For Alined, not so well."

Lori takes the stack. "Goodness, there's a lot," she exclaims, flipping through them. "Did he find everything that Percy already had?"

"Yes, he found those 10 things, plus another 5.

He also remarked on cracks in the concrete, peeling paint, and an excessive rodent problem."

"Rodents?"

"They spread disease," he says. "You know that the bubonic plague in the Middle Ages was carried by fleas on rats, don't you?"

"Suddenly I'm not as hungry for supper, but yes, I did know that."

"So the good news is we have third-party confirmation that problems are being ignored in the warehouse," he says, his smile faltering for the first time now.

"And the bad news?"

"We need proof that the reports that Percy submitted were ignored. And that proof is either in Alined's or Trickler's office."

"The original reports," Lori realizes, frowning.

"How can we get those?"

"Well, I might be able to get a warrant," Rob muses, tapping his index finger against his pursed lips.

"Worth a try," she says with a shrug.

Rob makes a note to follow up with that.

"They may tell us no, but you're right, we should try. Now, there's one other thing I want to ask you about."

"All right," she says, setting the reports back on Robert's desk.

"I have no intention of calling you to the witness stand," he starts. "Don't see there's much of a point, honestly. But I can't guarantee that Boudreaux will show you the same courtesy."

"I understand. From what I've heard about this man, he's nothin' but a snake."

"Yes. I've looked into your records as much as I can, but I'm gonna ask you: is there anything in your past, anything at all that he could drag out and try to use against you to try and make you look bad?"

Lori thinks. "What records have you looked into, exactly?"

He picks up a folder. "Well, I've got the information from the Motor Vehicle Department, which you know. I talked to my friends at the police station, and they had nothing on you."

"Can't say the same about my brother," she mutters.

"One disorderly conduct charge ain't gonna hurt us at all, 'specially since he's not directly involved with this case," Rob waves his hand dismissively. "I also have school transcripts ranging from college all the way back to elementary school." He holds one up. "Memphis State on scholarship, Miss Thompson, very impressive."

"Thank you," she says. "That's when I moved into the apartment upstairs. Old Mr. Richards had just moved out and it was gettin' impossible for me to study with Daddy and Elliot botherin' me every ten minutes. O' course, Mama had just passed on, too, so that just made it harder on them, 'cause she wasn't there to look after them."

"That must have been very hard, tryin' to concentrate on your studies with all that goin' on," Rob says. I don't think I would have had that kind of strength at that age. I don't think I have that kind of strength now.

"You do what needs to be done because it needs to be done," she says. "My mama used to say that."

Rob nods, growing ever more impressed with Lori as the minutes tick by. Careful.

After a moment, Rob speaks again. "So, then, I assume that your past is clean?"

"As far as I can recollect," she nods.

"Not even a parking ticket? Jaywalking? Um… littering? No crazy pranks in college?" He looks at the college papers again.

"No," she laughs.

"What about…" he raises an eyebrow, "Hilda?"

Lori laughs even harder now. "Yes, my middle name is Hilda. I don't think they'll be able to use that against me in a court of law, considerin' I had no choice in the matter. Hilda was my Grandmother, on my mama's side."

"My middle name is Basil," he tells her sheepishly.

"Basil? Like Basil Rathbone?" she says, trying not to laugh.

"Like Basil Carter, my grandfather. My family is originally from England."

"I don't know if that's worse than Hilda or better," she says, smirking at him.

"It's why I don't use my middle initial, like a lot of lawyers do. People would be askin' me what the 'B' stands for, and I wouldn't want to tell 'em."

"I don't blame you. I always…"

Lori is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me a moment," Rob says. "Yes?"

The door opens, and Shawn strides in, an envelope in his hand. "Sorry to interrupt, Robert," he says. "Hello, I don't believe we've met," Shawn says to Lori, holding his hand out to her.

"Shawn Carter. You must be Loretta Thompson."

"I am indeed," she says, standing to shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir."

"You, too. Please, sit," Shawn says. "I've heard a lot about you from my son. Seems you have yourself quite a case here. A case that will be going to trial a week from tomorrow," he says, handing the envelope to Rob and sitting in the other chair.

"What? I haven't even heard from Boudreaux yet!" Rob exclaims, opening it and inspecting the contents.

"Oh, you will be. He just called me and read me the riot act, thinking that I somehow had my hands in this affair because you are my son."

Rob scoffs, gnawing his lower lip absently as his eyes scan the documents.

"I told him nothing, of course, other than that he should address any and all questions to you."

"Thanks, I think…"

Shawn chuckles now. "Is the judge assignment on there?"

"That's what I'm lookin' for, Pop. Ah, here it is.

Judge John Rodor." He looks up. "Could be worse."

Lori watches, suddenly nervous, looking back and forth between father and son.

"True. He's not the most open-minded judge on the bench, but he's definitely not a bigot like Judge Odin. You would get nowhere with him, I'm afraid," Shawn says, this last bit directed at Lori.

"That's lucky, then, I guess…"

"Loretta," Rob says, setting the papers down.

Something in Robert's tone gives Shawn pause, and he decides to pay close attention.

"Don't worry. Rodor is a decent man. Yes, he's an old white man, but he's not one of those judges that automatically finds in favor of whoever is white. He'll listen. Plus, he doesn't care much for Boudreaux. Right, Pop?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, that's right. Alfred Boudreaux has been found in contempt of court by Judge Rodor so often that he practically has his name written on the paperwork before the trial begins."

"Aren't judges supposed to be fair and impartial?" Lori asks.

"Aren't people supposed to treat other people with kindness and respect?"Rob asks in response.

"Point taken," she says, half-smiling. There he goes, sounding like Superman again. She looks down at her hands folded in her lap.

Something about the way he says her name, the way he looks at her… this is troublesome, Shawn thinks. He stands. "I'll let you get back to your meeting, then. Miss Thompson, it was a pleasure. Best of luck to you," he nods.

"Thank you, sir."

Shawn leaves them. What to do?

"Where were we?" Rob asks.

"Middle names," Lori says. "Very important to my case."

"Right," he laughs.

Fifteen minutes later, Shawn watches them emerge from Robert's office, chatting companionably, seeming to be arguing lightly about fried chicken, of all things.

"…I don't care how good you say Gareth's chicken is, I would wager that mine is better," she says stubbornly.

"Well, you're just gonna have to let me be the judge of that sometime, then, won't you?" Rob shoots back.

To her credit, Lori gives him a slightly puzzled look before answering with a hesitant, "Sure…"

Shawn loses sight of them when they exit to the lobby, Robert's gentlemanly hand on her elbow as she goes through the door.

"Um, if I find out anything earth-shattering from Boudreaux tomorrow, I'll call you," Rob says.

"All right," Lori says.

"Have a good night, Loretta. Tell your brother hey for me."

"Good night, Robert," Lori says. Over Robert's shoulder she sees Vivian bristle slightly. What on earth? Oh, I called him Robert. She only ever calls him Mr. Carter. She smiles lightly and exits into the late afternoon sunshine outside.

TBC

i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

stephenGee12:
i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

Another one again
Okay sha. Lemme quickly buy land.





I think this is enuf.. as usual, lankyannie and samyfreshsmooth coman join me.
Baba StephenGee12, i sight u o.
Thanks 4 d mentioning of my moniker

stephenGee12:
i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

We yaf come

wizsolzy:


We yaf come

Na only one person I call o. I no call we. So carry ur we make u dey go. No come short person palmy for here. Abi una carry any drink come ni

Dedicated to hadampson, wizsolzy and stephengee12 "Mr. Carter, this case is going to trial in a week," Liam protests. "I know nothing about it. I need time to prepare."

"We can try to get it postponed, but I don't think that'll be necessary. I've been looking over Robert's notes and papers, and everything is very clear. I could handle this case if it were going to trial tomorrow; you'll be fine."

"Why?"

"I have reason to believe that Rob is losing his objectivity with his client," he says, his face a mask.

"Sir?"

"Liam, I want you to take over this case. You've got more experience. I know your specialty is business law, but this is a case dealing with a business. He's got four witnesses and enough evidence to present a nearly iron-clad case. You could do this in your sleep."

"All right," Liam sighs. "I'll take this home and look it over tonight."

"Sorry to keep you late, Liam. Thank you."

"Good night, sir."
TBC

stephenGee12:
i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

thanks dear

wizsolzy:

We yaf come

welcome dear

Hadampson:
Another one again Okay sha. Lemme quickly buy land.




I think this is enuf.. as usual, lankyannie and samyfreshsmooth coman join me. Baba StephenGee12, i sight u o. Thanks 4 d mentioning of my moniker

you are welcome onboard

"Hello?" Lori is just about to leave for school when her phone rings. She only answers because it may be Rob.

"Miss Thompson?"

"…Yes?" she answers warily, praying to God that this isn't Alfred Boudreaux calling her.

"My name is Liam Winters, I'm an associate of Robert Carter's."

"Oh, hello."

"Do you have a few minutes?"

"Very few, I'm sorry, I'm just headin' out to work."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just had a few questions for you."

"May I ask what this is regarding?" Why isn't Rob calling?

"Your case. I just wanted to get some basic information since I'm taking over your case."

Lori says nothing, sitting heavily in a kitchen chair. "Beg pardon?" she finally says, quietly.

"I just wanted…"

"I heard you. What was that about your taking over my case?"

"You… you didn't know?"

"No."

"Oh, Lord, I'm… I'm sorry… I thought…"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Winters, but I need to get to my work or I'll be late."

"Understood. I'll… I'll call later."

"After three. Have… have a good day, sir," she says, hanging up.

Lori looks at the clock. I'll have to drive now.

She grabs the keys to her father's car and realizes her hand is trembling slightly.

Hurt. Betrayed. Angry.

Heartbroken?

The last thing Lori feels like doing now is going to work, but it's too late to call in sick.

She takes a deep, shaky breath, holds her head up high, and heads down to the car.

stephenGee12:



Na only one person I call o. I no call we. So carry ur we make u dey go. No come short person palmy for here. Abi una carry any drink come ni

BROS no worry I come wit goldspot

Nnnena:
welcome dear

Thanking u

Nnnena:
Dedicated to hadampson, wizsolzy and stephengee12


TBC

Thanks for the dedication​..
Oya sup qwis

"Rob?" Liam pokes his head inside Rob's office, knocking as he does so.

Rob is frantically searching his office, looking for folders that Liam suspects are in his hands.

"What?" Rob snaps, looking up. "Sorry, hey, Liam, what's goin' on?"

"Um… are you looking for these?" he asks quietly, holding his files.

"Why do you have my files?" Rob asks, his face clouding.

Liam closes the door quietly behind him.

"Your father handed your case over to me. I… I thought you knew."

"He did what? "

"He kept me late last night and told me that I was to take this case. Said something about your having lost your objectivity with your client."

Rob rakes his hand through his hair and sits.

He leans forward, his elbows on his desk, and rubs his face, groaning. "Shit."

"I, um, just talked to her…"

Rob peeks at Liam from between his fingers.

"She's a bit shocked."

"A bit?"

"A lot. I didn't get to talk to her too much, she —"

"She had to get to work. She teaches kindergarten at Lincoln." Rob stands again, agitated, and starts pacing. "She's gonna be mad at me, I know it. She's gonna set her brother on me and I'll never walk again…"

"Rob," Liam interrupts his ramblings, "is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Have you lost your objectivity with this girl?"

Rob stops. He looks at the books on his massive bookshelf, covering one wall. "Maybe."

"You haven't fallen in love with her, have you?"

Liam asks quietly.

Rob's phone rings before he can answer. He looks at the clock, and for the first time he hopes that it's not Loretta on the phone.

"Robert Carter," he answers.

"Ah. I was wondering when I'd be hearing from you. Hold on one moment, Alfred, I'm just going to pop you on speakerphone. As luck would have it, my associate Liam Winters happens to be in my office at the moment. He and I are both working on this case," Rob says, looking meaningfully at Liam.

"…nder the understanding that it was only you," Alfred Boudreaux's voice pops out of the speakerbox, mid-sentence.

"Good morning, Alfred, and no, it's both of us now," Liam sits, setting the files back on Rob's desk.

"I'm actually stepping back a bit into more of a second-chair position on this case now," Rob explains. "Handing the reins over to someone with a bit more experience."

Liam nods. I'm good with that, he seems to silently say to Rob.

"Oh? Young Master Carter has bitten off more than he can chew, I see?" Alfred taunts. "No, just willing to take the time to walk before I can run," Rob says smoothly. "So what do we owe the dubious honor of a phone call from yourself?"

"I think you know perfectly well why I'm callin'.

My client wants you to drop the charges. Says you ain't got a case against him or his company."

Rob rolls his eyes.

"Of course he'd say that," Liam answers. "We got him backed into a corner and he knows it."

"If any of his employees testifies against him, they'll be fired. He wanted me to let y'all know."

"Then we can sue him again for wrongful termination," Liam answers.

"'Sides, we'd be able to find them jobs at companies that have safe working environments 'fore they even knew they were out of a job," Rob adds.

"So you're refusin' to drop the charges?"

"Yes," Liam says.

"You don't wanna run that by your client before you answer?" Alfred presses.

"No," Rob answers this time.

Alfred pauses a beat. "Good. That's what I was hopin' for," he says, and they can practically hear him leering on the other end.

"See you in court," Rob says, and disconnects. He looks at Liam. "You ain't takin' this case all to yourself."

"I figured as much. I'm okay with that."

"There are some conditions I'm workin' with, here. First, if we don't win, Loretta doesn't have to pay us."

"All right."

"Second, if we need to talk to Percy Andersen, Duncan Matthews, or Ezra Johnson, it has to be after hours so they don't have to take time off their jobs."

"Understandable. They do know they'll need to take time for the trial?"

"Yes. I'll call them tonight and give them the date."

"You all right, Rob?" Liam asks. He can see that Rob is still agitated.

"No. I need to have a few words with my father."

"Probably," Liam allows.

Rob picks up his phone and dials.

"Lisa, is anyone with my father right now?

Good. Thank you."

He hangs up the phone, reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a thin file. He hands it to Liam. "You'll want to read this over.

It wasn't with the rest."

"What is it?" Liam takes the file.

"Our ace in the hole. You can hang here if you want, I'm goin' to go yell at Pop for a few minutes."

Rob heads to his door and he hears Liam open the file. As the door closes behind him, he hears Liam exclaim softly, "Holy shit…"
TBC

"Rob?" Liam pokes his head inside Rob's office, knocking as he does so.

Rob is frantically searching his office, looking for folders that Liam suspects are in his hands.

"What?" Rob snaps, looking up. "Sorry, hey, Liam, what's goin' on?"

"Um… are you looking for these?" he asks quietly, holding his files.

"Why do you have my files?" Rob asks, his face clouding.

Liam closes the door quietly behind him.

"Your father handed your case over to me. I… I thought you knew."

"He did what? "

"He kept me late last night and told me that I was to take this case. Said something about your having lost your objectivity with your client."

Rob rakes his hand through his hair and sits.

He leans forward, his elbows on his desk, and rubs his face, groaning. "Shit."

"I, um, just talked to her…"

Rob peeks at Liam from between his fingers.

"She's a bit shocked."

"A bit?"

"A lot. I didn't get to talk to her too much, she —"

"She had to get to work. She teaches kindergarten at Lincoln." Rob stands again, agitated, and starts pacing. "She's gonna be mad at me, I know it. She's gonna set her brother on me and I'll never walk again…"

"Rob," Liam interrupts his ramblings, "is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Have you lost your objectivity with this girl?"

Rob stops. He looks at the books on his massive bookshelf, covering one wall. "Maybe."

"You haven't fallen in love with her, have you?"

Liam asks quietly.

Rob's phone rings before he can answer. He looks at the clock, and for the first time he hopes that it's not Loretta on the phone.

"Robert Carter," he answers.

"Ah. I was wondering when I'd be hearing from you. Hold on one moment, Alfred, I'm just going to pop you on speakerphone. As luck would have it, my associate Liam Winters happens to be in my office at the moment. He and I are both working on this case," Rob says, looking meaningfully at Liam.

"…nder the understanding that it was only you," Alfred Boudreaux's voice pops out of the speakerbox, mid-sentence.

"Good morning, Alfred, and no, it's both of us now," Liam sits, setting the files back on Rob's desk.

"I'm actually stepping back a bit into more of a second-chair position on this case now," Rob explains. "Handing the reins over to someone with a bit more experience."

Liam nods. I'm good with that, he seems to silently say to Rob.

"Oh? Young Master Carter has bitten off more than he can chew, I see?" Alfred taunts. "No, just willing to take the time to walk before I can run," Rob says smoothly. "So what do we owe the dubious honor of a phone call from yourself?"

"I think you know perfectly well why I'm callin'.

My client wants you to drop the charges. Says you ain't got a case against him or his company."

Rob rolls his eyes.

"Of course he'd say that," Liam answers. "We got him backed into a corner and he knows it."

"If any of his employees testifies against him, they'll be fired. He wanted me to let y'all know."

"Then we can sue him again for wrongful termination," Liam answers.

"'Sides, we'd be able to find them jobs at companies that have safe working environments 'fore they even knew they were out of a job," Rob adds.

"So you're refusin' to drop the charges?"

"Yes," Liam says.

"You don't wanna run that by your client before you answer?" Alfred presses.

"No," Rob answers this time.

Alfred pauses a beat. "Good. That's what I was hopin' for," he says, and they can practically hear him leering on the other end.

"See you in court," Rob says, and disconnects. He looks at Liam. "You ain't takin' this case all to yourself."

"I figured as much. I'm okay with that."

"There are some conditions I'm workin' with, here. First, if we don't win, Loretta doesn't have to pay us."

"All right."

"Second, if we need to talk to Percy Andersen, Duncan Matthews, or Ezra Johnson, it has to be after hours so they don't have to take time off their jobs."

"Understandable. They do know they'll need to take time for the trial?"

"Yes. I'll call them tonight and give them the date."

"You all right, Rob?" Liam asks. He can see that Rob is still agitated.

"No. I need to have a few words with my father."

"Probably," Liam allows.

Rob picks up his phone and dials.

"Lisa, is anyone with my father right now?

Good. Thank you."

He hangs up the phone, reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out a thin file. He hands it to Liam. "You'll want to read this over.

It wasn't with the rest."

"What is it?" Liam takes the file.

"Our ace in the hole. You can hang here if you want, I'm goin' to go yell at Pop for a few minutes."

Rob heads to his door and he hears Liam open the file. As the door closes behind him, he hears Liam exclaim softly, "Holy shit…"
TBC

wizsolzy:


BROS no worry I come wit goldspot

It don tey wey I drink goldspot. Abeg pass on crsa

wizsolzy:


Thanks for the dedication​..
Oya sup qwis

I reject it by fire by thunder. See kiss wey carry ebola. Chai nnnena no mind am ooo.
Thanks for the dedication dear

stephenGee12:
i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

Stephen i trippled sight yu.
hope yu get kilishi as the journey began.

AlamienDagash:

Stephen i trippled sight yu.
hope yu get kilishi as the journey began.

The journey has begunning already. But go wait for bustop for me make I come pick u wirh my gold plate geebourgini 2050.
Na hadampson dey bring kilishi

Nnnena:

thanks dear

*dancing shoki*.
She called me dear.
Hadampson and dagash come and hellep me to praise God.
Somefori shout halleluyah

stephenGee12:
i no wan talk but i gats talk.
nnenna u are giving us a wonderful piece of story here. its just too amazing to be reading a story abt aw the blacks were treated by the whites in the early days of modern civilisation. keep it up dear.

lemmem call my people sef:
hadampson, wizsolzy, johnsonown1, alamiendagash, ikombe, princeofprince, surestg, theblessedman, rachealfst, chumzypinky, smartestpopqueen, gtin, aminzy, bibi294, bibijay123, chipapi, musampa73, queenite, herosakin77, supernet4, johnsonfa44, kinwayne, safarigirl, ishilove u are all invited to the high table as we digest this wonderful masterpiece by nnena with palmy
Troublemakers u knw ur sef ooo

Tnx for d mention I appreciate