stephenGee12:


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

Buh i don booked ticket me na by air i wan travel pa.

AlamienDagash:

Buh i don booked ticket me na by air i wan travel pa.

by plane or by gold which one sure. c ya head.

stephenGee12:

by plane or by gold which one sure. c ya head.

100% Gold Guaranty.

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

awww thanks for the mention. ayaf come

AlamienDagash:

100% Gold Guaranty.

Ur head dey dere wella.
Shey make we carry hadampson go.

Wisolzy and his 'we' no fit follow

stephenGee12:


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

Na u get d mouth wen I won kiss aproko

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

the boss i hail o


thank you for the mention

make i park my car come read am

samyfreshsmooth:


the boss i hail o


thank you for the mention

make i park my car come read am

Abegi the garage dey reject ur car

stephenGee12:


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

U no go happy say dem call ur name join my name..

wizsolzy:


U no go happy say dem call ur name join my name..

C wu is talking sef. If I slap u ehn u and dat ur pple wud comot

stephenGee12:


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

No lele nah, lemme go nd meet Mallam ikombe make him prepare kilishi for us. I dey come

stephenGee12:
*dancing shoki*. She called me dear. Hadampson and dagash come and hellep me to praise God. Somefori shout halleluyah

Halleluyah !!!

Thanks for the dedication nnena I appreciate.. btw nice update
herosakin777, u need tew see this

"Why did you give away my case?" Rob yells, storming into his father's office, slamming the door behind him.

"Robert, calm down…" Shawn tries.

"I will not calm down! You took my case and gave it to Liam without even telling me! Or my client! Do you know how unprofessional that looks?"

"About as unprofessional as how you sleeping with your client looks," Shawn calmly replies.

"Excuse me?" Rob says, his voice low. "I am not… wouldn't… I've only ever touched her hand, for Christ's sake!" His voice rises in a crescendo as he speaks, and by the time he finishes, he is yelling.

And her elbow, Shawn thinks, remembering watching him usher her out the door the previous day. Not important, he decides.

"Robert, I saw the two of you yesterday, in your office. The way you looked at her, said her name…"

"Do you really think that's the kind of person I am?" Rob shouts.

"Robert—"

"Never mind that, do you really think that's the kind of girl Loretta is?"

He's angrier for her than he is for himself. This is not good. "No, Robert, I don't. But I think that, given different circumstances, you would not hesitate to attempt to be… familiar… with this girl."

Rob sits heavily in the chair facing his father's desk.

"I saw it with my own eyes, Rob. You are smitten. No, don't bother denying it," he says quickly when Rob opens his mouth to protest.

"I had to remove you from the case, for your own good."

"So this is to keep us apart, then," Rob says quietly, not believing his ears. "Is it because she's my client or is it because she's colored?"

he asks suddenly.

Shawn thinks a moment, weighing his words carefully. "A little of both, actually, but before you fly off the handle again, let me explain."

"I'm listening," Rob says, his jaw clenched. "Are you?" Shawn raises his eyebrows at his son.

Rob relaxes slightly and Rob continues. "I don't believe I need to explain why I disapprove of your interest in her as a client," he says, leaning back in his chair. "But let me say first and foremost that I do like the girl. I can see why you like her. She's pretty, she's smart, and she's very strong. She has been through a lot and she still has spirit. Certainly seems to stand up to you without batting an eye," he chuckles.

"But…" Rob prompts, waiting for but she's colored to come out of his father's mouth.

"Under different circumstances, she would be very good for you," Shawn continues. "Under different circumstances I would be doing everything in my power to see to it that you don't mess this relationship up like you've done so many others…"

"Not 'so many,' Pop. I've had maybe three girlfriends," Rob interrupts.

Shawn shrugs. "Not important. But the fact of the matter is, Robert, she is negro and it's simply against the law."

"It's against the law to marry her, father, not date her," Rob says. "That's just pretty severely frowned upon."

"Robert, do you want to marry her?" Shawn challenges softly, leaning forward again.

Rib sits quietly, thinking. Do I? I honestly don't know. I know I really like her. I know I feel like Superman when she's with me, like I can do anything. "I don't know," he finally says.

"Well, I suggest you figure out what your intentions are with this girl before diving headlong into something that could land you in jail, or worse. Do not just string this girl along if she is just a conquest. If you're only looking to bed a colored girl for the novelty of it…"


"Dad! I would never! Loretta is a good, honest woman; the kindest, most wonderful person I've ever met, and I would never… "

"Ah, there we are," Shawn says, his lips twitching into a rather sad half smile. "If you love her, do her the courtesy of not endangering her, Robert."

" If I love her, I will find a way to be with her," Rob says, standing. "But I will not remove myself from this case. Liam and I have discussed it already. He is taking the lead and I will second chair, since you're worried about my objectivity."

"Very well," Shawn sighs.

"Now I just have to convince Loretta that I didn't bail on her," Rob mutters, exiting his father's office.
TBV

I've missed alot.

So Love is in the air.. okay , I'm watching the two both of them ( in falz voice )

Please Mr man. before yu start shouting at your father, don't bring harm to Lori o.. she had suffered alot already

I am using this medium to appreciate you guys. you guys rock. Even though am sick i still find time to type, my mom mustn't know am typing. You guys comment keep me going and writing. I appreciate y'all.


7


Rob sits on his couch, listening to Lori's
phone ringing. Again. She had spoken to Liam
earlier, briefly, but as soon as Rob's name
was mentioned, she made an excuse and got off
the phone.


He hangs up. He's tried calling four times in the
last hour and a half. She's either not home or is
ignoring the phone, knowing he's trying to call.


She should be mad. I don't blame her at all. I just
wish I could explain. She wouldn't even hear
Liam's explanation.


He looks at the phone again and sighs. Then he
looks at the folders and papers on his table. He
sorts through them until he finds what he is
looking for.


Rob puts on a pair of shoes and grabs his car
keys.


Ten minutes later, he pulls up outside the
address on Lori's personal information form.
He takes a deep breath and climbs out of his
car.


She lives upstairs. Does she have a separate
door? I don't want to walk around the whole
house; I'll look like a burglar. Better just try the
front door.


He climbs the steps to the front porch and
knocks.


A few moments later the door opens and he is
face to face with Elliot.


Oh, shit.


"Go away."


"Elliot, please, I'd really like to explain—"


"You're trespassin' on my property,
Carter.


Get off my porch."


"May I please talk to Loretta?"


"No."


"You can chaperone."


"No."


"Elliot…"




" No, Rob. She don't want to talk to you."


"I just want to tell her—"


"What? That her case ain't good enough for you
anymore? That you's just a coward that don't
want to defend a colored girl 'cause it might
hurt your reputation?"


"It wasn't my decision!" Rob manages to get
in. "I didn't know anything about it! In fact,
Loretta found out about it before I did!" Rob
is nearly shouting now, his voice desperate.


"I'll tell her that. If she wants to talk to you,
she'll call you," Elliot says coldly. Rob
wonders if she'll actually get the message, but
he says nothing, choosing to trust his word for
now.



"Let me give you my home phone number,"
Rob says, fishing out a card on which he's
already written his home number.


"I don't think that's a good idea," Elliot says.


"She don't need to be callin' you at home."


"It's the weekend, Elliot. I'm not goin' to be in
my office till Monday." He holds the card out
towards Elliot.


"Then you wait till Monday," Elliot doesn't take
the card.


"Please tell her I'm very sorry and that it was
my father's doing. I didn't know. I swear on my
mother's grave." The card hovers between
them. "Please."


"Why's this so important to you?" Elliot asks
suddenly.


"Because… because what happened ain't right.


She shouldn't have to deal with this mess on
top of everything else. It's just wrong. I'm tryin'
to fix it."


"I'll tell her." He snatches the card resignedly.


"Thank you, Elliot. Have a good night."

TBC

Hadampson,wilzsolzy, ikombe. stephengee12 creeza etc

Nnnena:
welcome dear

u shu rather say "wlc dears" ...'cos dey r obviously *we*

Awwwn, love in the air. Speedy recovery sis

Wish u marathon recovry @Op

thanks to prettymizqdot and queenite for your wishes.


His lips are warm and soft against mine. His tongue, wet and probing, is delicious inside my mouth.

Our bodies are a tangle of limbs: soft, light brown against golden cream, twisted like a large, decadent cinnamon bun as we explore each other's bodies on a massive plush bed dressed in soft linens and pillows.

His lips trail along my skin, teasing my throat, sending chills down my spine as they trace the column of my neck, the lines of my collarbones, the swell of my breasts.

Chills and heat all at once; fire and ice, dark and light.

I want him to stop. I want him to never stop, ever.

I want… him.

Loretta wakes up Sunday morning in a tangle of sheets, warm. Overly warm. Warmer in some places than in others.

She slowly rises, blinking, images from the dream flashing through her brain, some hazy, some unsettling in their frank clarity.

"I'm supposed to be mad at him; why'm I havin' a dream like that? " she muses aloud.

In the bathroom mirror, she tells herself that she definitely needs to go to church.

As she slips out the door to head out, she glances at the phone, which has been deafeningly silent since Friday evening.

"Give up so soon, Superman?" she sighs.
TBC

The lack of ringing from his phone is making Rob very irritated. And dismayed. Saturday came and went with no phone call. That combined with yet another dream of which he only remembers flashes: taunting, fleeting bits, and Rob's Sunday morning is rather morose.

He knows he should be a good boy and go to church. He knows that Loretta is probably at church herself. But since he doesn't know what time her church's services are, he has resolved to stay in his apartment should she call.

He has also resolved that he is not going to try and call her. She's proven that she is not going to answer her phone. As I suspected, she is stronger than I am.

Rob looks at the clock again. 9:17. Marcus will still be sleeping, probably, but Lisa should be home by now, since she always goes to early mass. He picks up the phone and dials their number.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Lisa, is Marcus up?"

"Oh, hello, Duckling! No, Marcus is still asleep, I'm afraid."

"Um, would you mind wakin' him up? I…"

"You need to talk to him, I know. I, um, heard you yellin' at your da Friday…"

"I know," he sighs. "Sorry 'bout that."

"It's all right, dear. Hold on a moment and I'll wake Marcus for you."

"You know what? Would you tell him to get up and come over?"

"Sure, Duckling."

A half an hour later, Rob's door buzzes. He goes to the intercom on the wall.

"That had better be you," he says.

"It is," Marcus's voice comes up through the box.

Rob presses the button to unlock the door downstairs, then pulls the knob on his door, leaving it slightly ajar so Marcus knows he can just come in.

Like he ever knocks anyway.

Rob flops on the sofa with a fresh cup of coffee just as Marcus strides through the door.

He's got a brown paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other.

"Marcus," Rob says.

"Rob. Mum told me what happened. She sent some scones." He holds up the bag.

Rob smiles. "Lisa's solution to every problem: food."

Marcus laughs and shrugs.

"You sure she's not from the south?"

"Southern Ireland, maybe," Marcus chuckles, setting his things on the coffee table and walking to Rob's kitchen for a mug.

He returns, opens the thermos, and pours his tea, still piping hot, into his mug. He's already poured a measure of milk into the mug. Rob makes a face.

"I feel the same way about that coffee you're drinkin', mate," Marcus says, sipping his hot, milky, un-sweetened tea with a content smile on his face.

"I just prefer my tea cold and sweet," Rob says.

"And I prefer my coffee, um, nonexistent."

"Gimme a scone."

"Well, when you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?" Marcus smirks at him and passes him the bag.

Rob opens it and digs through until he finds one of the ones he wants. Lisa always makes some with chocolate chips in just for Rob, saying that even though it's heresy, she'll do it for her Duckling.

Now Marcus makes a face as Rob bites into his chocolate chip scone. "So she won't talk to you?"

"No," Rob says, his mouth full. "I even went to her house Friday night. Was blocked by Elliot."

"O' course you were. Um, Rob…"

"What?" Rob asks, knowing full well what Marcus is about to ask.

"Is Shawn right? About you? And her?"

"Care to be more specific?"

"Well, I know you're not… doin' anything with her. But… would you… if you could?"

Rob sighs. "I said more specific, Marcus.

Honestly, you'd be a terrible lawyer."

"Well, you'd be a terrible jazz musician, so we're even. Do you like her?"

"Of course I like her, Marcus. She's a kind, intelligent, caring girl."

"Rob, stop bein' obtuse."

Rob blinks in surprise at Marcus's choice of words.

"I am educated, you know," Marcus snaps. "Sorry. I…"

"Rob, you know you can tell me anything. You know you can trust me."

"That's not the problem." Rob stares into his coffee.

"Then what is the problem?"

"The problem is, if I admit it out loud, to you, then I have to face it myself!" Rob yells, exasperated. He takes a long drink of his coffee, the hot bitter liquid burning his tongue and throat slightly, but he doesn't care. "I can't admit that… I feel more for her than I should because nothin' can happen!"

Marcus sighs, setting his tea on the table. "How do you know that nothing can happen?" he asks quietly.

"Marcus, I don't know what to do," Rob says, his voice turning quiet. "I have feelings that I don't know what to do with. I like her. A lot. I'll admit it. If she was white, I'd buy her flowers, take her out to dinner. Maybe take her to a show. You know, court her up right and proper."

Marcus nods. "Never figured you to be a romantic," he grins.

Rob thinks about throwing his scone at Marcus's head, but decides that would be a waste and takes a bite of it instead. "That's 'cause I haven't dated anyone since you've been here. Been too busy tryin' to establish myself as a lawyer."

"Right," Marcus says.

"Well, that and I haven't found anyone all that interestin' in a while," he allows.

"Vivian certainly fancies you," Marcus smirks.

"Loretta pointed that out recently. I hadn't noticed, and I don't much care."

"Yeah, I don't think much goes on inside that pretty blonde head o' hers," Marcus chuckles.

"So…" he indicates Rob should continue.

"So… that's just the problem. I can't even take the time to get to know her, to find out if she's the one for me. I can't take her out and hold her hand and give her gifts and make her feel special. I can't kiss her and see if the fireworks go off inside my head. I can't do any of that… but…"

"But you want to?"

" Desperately, " Rob admits, closing his eyes.

"Even if it doesn't work out. I can't even try.

Can't even find out if we even have a chance.

We automatically don't have a chance because I'm white and she's colored. And that's…"

"Bloody frustrating," Marcus finishes.

"Fucking unfair," Rob amends.

Marcus sits up straight in his chair, Rob's strong language catching him off guard.

"It's ignorant and wrong and just… stupid. This whole fucking world is just so fucking stupid!"

Rob slumps in his chair, leaning back, looking at the ceiling.

"Rob," Marcus says, his voice quiet, calm.

Gentle. "You can still get to know her. You're working with her on this trial, right? So you have an excuse to spend time with her. Just… slip in personal bits from time to time."

"Our conversations already wander off-topic," Rob admits. "She's really smart, Marcus. And quick; clever. I hear she got Gareth speechless inside o' five minutes the other night."

"Yeah, I heard that, too. He couldn't stop talking about her," Marcus slips that last bit in just to needle him.

"What?" Rob sits up straight now. To say he does not look amused would be an understatement.

"Oh, yeah, he was going on about how she was funny and pretty…"

"Marcus…"

"Look. You need to figure out if you want to be with Lori or not, because Gareth isn't nearly as careful with the rules as you, and he was awfully impressed with her. That's all I'm saying."

"You don't need to poke my jealousy, too, Marcus. I'm twisted up enough inside already."

"Sorry. But I thought you should know."

"Well, tell Garetg she's off limits," he grumbles.

He grabs a second scone. "Okay, genius, tell me: supposin' I decide that she is the one for me. Supposin' I decide that I don't want to stay away from her. That I don't care about the rules because I can't stay away from her. What then?"

"We find a way," Marcus says simply. "It might not be easy, or convenient, but if you're meant thou to be together, a way will present itself."

"Easy for you to say. She's still speakin' to you."

"Well, obviously, you'll need to fix that first."
TBC
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Rob is distracted Monday. Liam notices, but knows better to say anything. Plus he knows why. It didn't take him long for him to figure out that Shawn was indeed correct about Rob and his feelings for their client. It is as clear as day if you even half pay attention.

They work on planning their strategy for the trial, the order of the witnesses they want to call, when to spring what bits of evidence or information. Liam was in complete agreement that they need to beat Alfred to the punch, operate on the offensive with sensitive details, exposing them themselves and spinning them to their advantage.

Rob's constant clock-watching after lunch starts to get to Liam, and finally he sets his pen down and looks at him.

"Just go," he sighs.

"What?"

"It's 2:30. She's done with school in fifteen minutes." Liam looks at him pointedly.

Rob is surprised. He knows Liam fairly well, but he wasn't sure about how the other man felt about this whole situation that he suddenly found himself thrust into.

"Really?"

"We won't get anywhere with this case if she won't speak to you, Rob," he sighs.

"Oh. Right."

"Plus, I'm tired of lookin' at your mopey face."

Rob actually laughs. He gets up and leaves the office, patting Liam on the shoulder as he passes.

Rob drives to Lori's house to wait for her.

He pulls up and sees Tom's Impala still parked in the driveway. He does not see Elliot's truck anywhere.

Thank God for that. He gets out of his car, and walks up to the house. Is she home already? He looks at his watch. 2:42. She's not even done with school yet.

Rob stands on the sidewalk, thinking. Dummy.

She probably walks to school. It's just up the street. He looks at his car, then decides to leave it there.

He hears the school bell ringing as he approaches. He decides to stay hidden, not wanting to embarrass her or draw undue attention, but he also doesn't want to look like a criminal, skulking in the shadows. He opts for leaning against a tree. He hopes he looks casual.

Rob watches, looking for her familiar shape, listening for her voice, her laugh. He spies her finally, exiting the school, talking with another teacher, an older woman, taller and heavier. He can see even from a distance that her smile is a mask over her own hurt, and it makes his heart ache.

A few minutes later he sees her approaching, walking quickly and purposefully. She is wearing a light green sleeveless dress and black heels.

Her hair is pinned up and she has a bag full of books on her shoulder. She looks adorable.

She strides right past him, not even glancing his way.

"I'm not talkin' to you," she says, hearing his footsteps behind her.

"Loretta…"

"Don't use that Superman tone with me, Mr. Carter. I'm not listenin' to it today. And stop followin' me."

I wasn't aware I was using my Superman voice. I only said her name, Rob puzzles over this tidbit. "I'm not followin' you. I just happen to be walkin' the same direction."

"Well, walk on the other side of the street, then."

"Did Elliot give you my message?"

She stops. "What?"

"I came by Friday night. I talked to Elliot. He didn't tell you?"

"I haven't seen him much," she says quietly.

"He's been makin' himself scarce, and I've been hidin' in my apartment."

"And not answering your phone," Rob adds, stepping up beside her now, turning his head to look at her down-turned face.

She starts walking again. "Not that you've tried to call since Friday night," she mutters.

"I left my home number with Elliot."

"And what else was he supposed to tell me?"

"That it was my father that gave my case to Liam. That I didn't know about it. That you actually found out Liam was given your case before I did."

Lori says nothing, knowing he wouldn't lie to her, but not knowing what to say to this apart from "why?" and she's not sure she's ready to face that answer yet. She stops walking when she sees an unfamiliar car parked outside her house. A very nice car.

"I gave him a business card that I wrote my home phone number on. He was supposed to give it to you with the message."

"He didn't. That your car?" She points to the red Corvette Stingray at the curb.

He nods.

"It's a nice car. Too nice for this neighborhood," she says, looking around.

"Loretta, I really want to talk to you."

"We're talkin' now."

"No, what I mean is I need to talk to you. About the case, kinda."

"Kinda?"

"About why my father felt the need to take me off of it."

"…All right…" she says, hesitantly, sighing heavily. "But I ain't havin' you in my house alone. The neighbors are peekin' already."

"Then come to Gareth's with me. We can talk there. It's practically become my second office anyway."

"I need to go inside first, put this away," she indicates her bag.

"I'll wait here." He leans against his car.

Ten minutes later, Lori emerges, her hair now back in a low ponytail, white tennis shoes on her feet, and a piece of paper clutched in her hand.

"He made a half-assed attempt," she says, showing Rob the paper.

Blonde Mr. Charlie stopped over. Says his daddy gave away the case + he didn't know. Wants you to call him. The business card is taped to the paper with a piece of silver duct tape.

"I found it on the kitchen table. His kitchen table, not mine," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "I don't know if he left it there thinking I would see it or if he forgot to bring it up. Either one's possible."

"Are you down there much?" he asks, handing the paper back to her.


"Depends. He likes me to make him dinner. I do sometimes, but not always, 'cause I'm not his mama, his wife, or his maid. But like I said, he's been makin' himself scarce lately." She tucks the note into her purse. "Wonder why?" she adds sarcastically.

"Hmm. Doesn't matter now, I guess," Rob says, bending to open the passenger door of his car for Lori.

She looks at it, then him. Get in, she tells herself. Then she drops down and into the low car.

"So much for not goin' to a tavern with a white man," she mutters while Rob makes his way around to his door.
TBC

Mama thanks for the dedication
I don't understand this Elliot.. Anyways, Lori and Rob, I'm watching you

Your style of writing is a breath of fresh air. Please more updates

Amenaghwon, alamendagash, queenite, creeza, evajael etc

"It must be my lucky day," Gareth comments, smiling at Lori.

"Don't count on it, Gareth," Rob shoots, giving Gareth what he hopes is a meaningful glare.

He ushers Lori to a table in the corner, holding her chair for her while she sits.

"Thank you," she mutters, setting her purse on the table. It is early, so there aren't many people there yet and it is relatively quiet.

Rob waves at Gareth, indicating he wants some drinks for them.

"So, what, am I just supposed to guess, then?"

Gareth yells across the barroom.

Rob sighs and rolls his eyes. "What would you like to drink, Loretta?" he asks.

"Just some water. Unless he has lemonade."

"I'll find out. Knowing him, he'll start squeezin' lemons special, just for you. I'll be right back," he says, standing again.

"Usual for me," Rob tells Gareth. "Do you have lemonade?"

"No, but I can make some quick if that's what Miss Lori wants," Gareth grins.

"She said water was fine if you didn't have any," Rob says pointedly.

"Here," Gareth plunks a bottle of Dr. Pepper down on the bar for Rob and fixes a tall glass of icewater for Loru. Rob tosses a few coins on the bar and takes the drinks back.

"I was right. He was ready to go whip you up some lemonade," Rob says, setting her glass in front of her.

"So… um…" he hesitates now, taking a long drink of his soda. Lori inspects her fingernails and takes a delicate sip of her water.

"He did put a lemon in the water, at least," she says quietly, smirking.

"Worth something, I guess," Rob says. He laces his fingers together and sets them on the table in front of him. Talk, dummy. "Loretta, like I said, my father felt the need to pass your case over to Liam. I've talked to him, and as you know, I've talked to Liam. Liam and I are both taking your case now, as… as Liam already told you, and actually it's probably a good thing, because Liam has a few years more experience than me, and so this is actually a good thing… for… for me, I guess… help me learn to walk before I can run…"

"Rob, you're rambling," Lori says, but her tone is gentle.

"I know. I'm tellin' you things you already know."

He runs his hand through his hair, and Lori watches the golden strands as they lift and fall back, almost exactly in place.

His hair looks very soft, she finds herself thinking, wondering what it would feel like if she were to run her fingers through it like that. Stop it.

"Um, the reason Pop pulled me from your case is, well, because he thought that you and I were… um… sleeping together."

Lori's eyes widen. "Where did he get that idea?" she asks. "You haven't been anything but a gentleman, and I know I haven't…"

Rob holds up his hands. "It's all right, Loretta, I've set him straight. He just… when he met you last week in my office, he just interpreted some of our actions a certain way, and drew some conclusions."

"I see," she says. What actions?

"Do you? You look confused."

"I guess I just don't see which actions he could have interpreted to lead him to the conclusion that I was welcomin' you into my bed."

"I don't either. Not really," he admits.

Lori angles her head at him.

"He's not entirely wrong, Loretta. I have lost whatever shred of objectivity I had when it comes to you."

"Oh," she says, lifting her glass again. She sets it down and drops her hand on the table.

"I've come to realize… well, rather I've allowed myself to admit that… I… I care for you more than I should. As your lawyer."

"And as a white man," she says, unable to look at him.

"That, too. Which is the worst part of it."

She nods slowly, her fingers idly picking at a spot on the table. Rob reaches forward with his hand and hesitantly touches hers. Her fingers still immediately and her eyes fly to his.

No one breathes. Rob strokes the skin on the back of her hand once, feather-light, then hastily withdraws his hand.

"Sorry," he says, blowing a long breath of air out before downing the rest of his Dr. Pepper.

But the damage is done. Lori sits blinking, stunned at what one single, fleeting touch stirred within her.

Why did you do that, man? Now you know. Now you know that her skin feels like velvet. You saw her holding her breath. You saw the color rise in her cheeks. You saw her eyes darken. You saw the fireworks in your head and you didn't even kiss her!

"If this is all one-sided, if you don't have any feelings at all, just tell me now and I'll maintain a professional distance," Rob finally says, softly.

Lori hesitates, knowing that the next words she says could potentially change the course of her life permanently. She looks at his face, at the longing in his eyes. "I wish I could. I wish I could say that I don't feel anything past friendship for you. I wish I could lie to you and tell you that I don't care about you, that I don't dream about you at night. I wish I'd never met you, sometimes. Other times I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You dream about me?"

She nods, looking at her fingers. "Can't control what we dream about."

"I know that all too well," he says. She looks up to see him actually blushing, and she knows immediately that she has been visiting his dreams as well.

"What is it you want, Rob?"

"I want…" You. "I want to get to know you better. I want the chance to find out if… if you and I…"

"We can't, Rob," she says, squeezing her eyes shut, pinching back tears.

Those three words feel like a hot knife stabbing Rob in his belly.

"I know."

"It may be dangerous for us to even be friends," she says.

"I know. Every time I think about you, I know that if the wrong people knew what my thoughts were you could be hurt. Or worse. If you think about someone like young Emmit Till, and all he did was talk to a white woman…"

"I'd like to think that we have come some ways since then," Lori says.

"It was only eight years ago," Rob says. "But you're right. And this ain't Mississippi," he allows.

"You're not entirely safe, either, you know," she says. "I do have a brother."

He exhales heavily. "I remember," he nods.

They actually laugh a little, the tension momentarily broken.

"Would you at least have a bite to eat with me, here, on neutral ground?" Rob asks. "Even if it's just this once. Marcus should be here soon, too. We can listen to him play. We don't even have to talk about anything important. Or anything at all."

His face is so earnest and sweet that Lori cannot say no. "All right. I'd like to see what all the fuss is about with Gareth's fried chicken, you know," she grins.'s choice of words.

TBC

I'm still watching quietly. Forge ahead ma

Awwn, love in the air.

evajael and queenite this is for you guys

8

"This is good, but I was right, mine is better," Lori declares, delicately picking at her chicken.

"I just find that very hard to believe," Rob says. "Because this is the best chicken I've ever had."

"You're going to keep that up until I make chicken for you, aren't you?"

He just grins and takes a bite of macaroni and cheese, the side dish du jour.

"So Rob, were you just… waiting around your house all weekend for me to call?"

"Well, apartment, actually. And yes. Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Okay, exactly," he admits.

"I thought only teenage girls did that."

"Teenage girls and stupid lawyers."

"You're not completely stupid," she says, taking a drink of the lemonade that Gareth delivered with the chicken.

"Oh, well, thank you," he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Your father is partly to blame."

"Yes, but if you weren't so wonderful, I wouldn't be so…"

"Stop," she says, holding up her hand.

"Sorry."

"Where did you go to school?" She changes the subject.

"Harvard," he says, chewing.

"Ooo," she says, mock-impressed.

"Well, Pop went there, you know. He's actually from Boston."

"I could tell he wasn't from here," she says.

"By his accent?"

"That and his attitude."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about important things," Rob smiles at her. He really wants to take her hand in his again, even if her fingers are slick with chicken grease.

"So tell me about Harvard, then. Did it get very cold there in the winter? Were you in one o' those fraternities? Did you play any sports? Did you have any… girlfriends?"

"I played football," he says, choosing to answer only one of the questions.

Lori perks up immediately. "Really?"

"In high school, too."

"What position?"

"Guess."

"Quarterback, obviously," she smirks at him.

"Why is that obvious?"

"Am I right?"

"Well, yes, but why is it obvious?"

"Because you…"

"Always have to be in charge and you like to tell people what to do," Marcus interrupts, finishing her sentence. He pulls a chair over and plops down on it.

"That's not what I was goin' to say!" Lori laughs.

It's a wonderful sound, and Rob simply watches her, smiling fondly.

"I know, but my answer was more accurate," Marcus grins. Lori gives him a chicken leg.

"Thanks."

"What I was going to say is that Rob is a natural leader. He has that… charisma that make people want to listen to him. That's why it was obvious that he was quarterback."

"I like her answer better," Rob declares, grinning smugly. "You like football, Loretta?"

"I love football," she says, surprising both men completely. "Daddy and I used to watch the Cardinals every Sunday." She smiles wistfully now.

"My favorite team," Rob says.

Marcus makes a face.

"You don't like football, Marcus?" Lori asks. "I like football fine. You Yanks call it soccer, though. It's just that American football is like… rugby for girls."

"Not this again…" Rob sighs, looking at the ceiling. He catches Gareth's eye across the bar and sees the bartender laughing.

"What exactly is rugby?" Lori asks, curious.

"It's like your football, except without all the silly padding."

"And they can't pass the ball forward," Lori adds.

"Then how do they advance the ball?"

"A lot of running," Rob says.

"Irish! Let's go!" Aaron's voice interrupts them, and Marcus stands.

"Good seeing you, Lori," he says. "And I'm glad you're speaking to him again. He was—"

"Thank you, Marcus," Rob says cutting him off.

"Right." Marcus heads off to the piano.

Lori and Rob resume their conversation, very carefully avoiding any topic that has any depth or substance. Lori still notes the way his eyes track her movements, how he watches her like she is the only woman in the room.

Rob can't help but notice how Lori's eyes drop coyly when he says something nice to her, how she seems to listen to him like every word he says is the most interesting thing she's ever heard.

Lori laughs again as Rob tells her about his string of bad fortune involving college roommates, and she finds herself tucking a stray curl behind her ear, glancing down and then back up at him, even licking her lips. Dear Lord, I'm flirting with him. She stops laughing quite suddenly.

"Loretta, is something wrong?" Rob asks, furrowing his brow.

"No… no, I'm fine," she says, quickly taking a drink of her lemonade.

"Are you sure? Dinner not agreeing with you?"

"No, it's very good. I'm just…"

"We're goin' back to serious topics again, aren't we?"

"Maybe. It's foolishness, really…"

"What is it?" He's really curious now.

"I think I caught myself flirtin' just now, that's all," she admits quietly.

"Oh, is that all? I was rather enjoyin' that."

"Oh!" she huffs, "You…" Lori presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. How is it he can do that to me? She tosses her napkin on her plate, having stopped eating fifteen minutes ago.

"Don't be embarrassed, Loretta. You didn't do anything wrong. No one's lookin' but me."

"It was just a surprise, that's all." She pushes her chair back slightly. "Excuse me a minute. I need to, um, powder my nose."

"Of course," Rob stands when she stands, watching her walk over to the restroom.

She left her purse here, so she's not going to run off. He waves Gareth over to take their plates.

"What's goin' on with you two?" Gareth asks.

"Like you haven't been listenin' the whole time," Rob answers sarcastically.

"Wouldn't have thought you'd take a risk like that. No matter how pretty she is."

"I know, I'm monumentally stupid, but I can't help it," Rob sighs.

"I can't say's I blame ya," Gareth says. "Good luck, man." He pats Rob's shoulder and leaves with their dishes heaped on a tray.

Lori returns, and she notices the bar is significantly busier now. Marcus is playing, this time backed up by Aaron on the drums and another man on the bass, presumably the Fred that was mentioned last time she was here.

She grabs her chair and drags it around the table to sit beside Rob now, facing the stage to watch Marcus play.

"Nose all powdered?" Rob asks.

"And a few other things seen to, yes," she answers, and Rob laughs.


She sits next to him and immediately the air changes around them again, the lightness gone.

Rob sits stiffly, wanting nothing more than to put his arm around her and pull her close, coax her head down to rest on his shoulder.

Lori either senses his uneasiness or feels some of her own, and scoots her chair away a few inches.

"Thank you," Rob says, smiling a bit sadly now.

TBC