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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

this story is the motherfucking bomb. mehn ajodem you are good. Cynthia, shade's mother and tunde mother should take it easy before they meet their waterloo

my jamjam now have a crush. kara and rachel ehn you guys should take it easy

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

Alamiendarmesh, stephengee12 sammyfreshsmooth queenite surestG Creeza e.t.c

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

ASAP in creeza's dic means another thing oooo. Ahhh I know its uyi all along. but efua have gone too far na.

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
hey ashatoda where art thou

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

EvaJael:
Hadampson
Ikombe
Nnenna
Musampa73
Alamiendangash
Mhizdherbee
Ifecoded
EvaJael is back o esp for madam nnenna

my babe is back. i so much miss you. Hope this girls don't have an evil plan. God please save mille for me. Evajael i could have called but i don't have your number. i hope you slayed the exam. wish you luck dear.

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

"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

wow this is cool. I love this

"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

"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.

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

wizsolzy:
We yaf come

welcome 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

thanks dear

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

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

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

it has happened. its now an open secret. weh done ma. even with all your workload you still find time for us. i love you ma. can you please be my dad 2nd wife pls

Am here. thanks for the mention dear. am following bumper to bumper

i have being dying to say this bro.Creeza. Dani and izzy. OK Dani saw a sex tape of his girlfriend not that they are separated or have broken up and he still love her seriously he is to be given a medal for world best boyfriend. Izzy has a boyfriend who they are still very much together no quarrel, no fight blah blah blah. she still went ahead to sleep or cheat on him even to the extent of making a sextape even though she ain't aware. and she still want the same boyfriend to forgive her. who does that. Logically, Dani is not suppose to forgive Izzy because when Izzy Is doing IT she was not under duress she was fully aware of her actions buy the lust in her or is it LovePeddler in her won't let her be.

evajael where art thou. have missed you ooooo. come quickly and dish the food. wishing you good luck and God's favour in your exam. Break a leg dear.

thanks for the dedication. i just pray Anike doesn't lose her head in the game. Nevertheless as a daughter she have to sacrifice something's to make the family happy.

"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

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

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 just hope olamilekan isn't the son of the admiral. keep it up ma.

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

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