Binding Arbitration (25 page)

“You’re being paid top dollar, and all you have to do is a few dishes and give Cass a bath,” he said as he slipped away and gestured me out of the kitchen booth. “Keep an eye on Cass.”

“All right, all right, Old Guy, fifty bucks. Cash.”

Aidan extended his hand sealing their bargain. “By the way I heard you tell your aunt that I’m an old hottie, and for someone who touts political activism you’re a capitalist p...”

I elbowed him before he could finish. “Person.” He amended pushing me into my bedroom and quietly shutting my door.

I trailed him to my walk-in closet at a safe distance and stood in the doorway. He pushed my clothes back and forth on the racks before coming to a dead halt. “This is perfect. You can wear it with the new shoes.” He tore the plastic wrap back and examined the tags. “Why haven’t you worn it yet?”

“I was saving it for a special occasion.” It was a beautiful chocolate brown sheath dress, with a low-cut v in the front and a matching patent leather belt.

“A first date.” He smiled cockily. “A special occasion.”

He shoved the dress at me, when something on the rack caught his eye. He backed up and pulled it from the rest. It was an ancient yellow sun dress I hadn’t worn in eons. “I loved you in this dress, you wore it the day I came back to school from summer break. Wear it for me sometime.”

“I am not wearing either one for you.”

He stepped into my personal space and unbuttoned my suit jacket pushing it off my shoulders. “In that case we can stay in.”

* * *

There was a black stretch limo waiting. Before we reached the bottom stair, David was out of the car opening the door for us. He tipped his hat. “Hey, Boss, how’s it going?”

Aidan nodded, chuckled and waited for me to get in.

“Where am I being kidnapped to?” I asked irritably, as I slid into my seat.

He knocked on the roof of the car, and we moved. “We’re going to Rusty Connor’s Skin Cancer fundraiser.”

“The Hall of Fame Rusty Connor?”

“That’s him.”

“You know the best closing pitcher in Cubs’ history?”

“My career isn’t over yet. I broke his ERA record last season, and I’m on par to break his record on saves. Maybe I’m the best closing pitcher the Cubs have ever had.”

I laughed as we streamed down Lake Shore Drive. There was a harsh breeze off the lake, and I shuddered into my coat. We exited at North Avenue, pulling up to an old brick building and into the line of expensive cars in front of Pipers Alley.

David bowed as we slipped out of the car. “When I picked up Melinda, she asked me to tell you that she wants you to call her. She has some information that might be enlightening."

“Thanks. I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.”

Aidan latched onto my hand, as he towed me toward the building. The doorman checked Aidan’s gilded invitation.

I gawked over the Art Deco lobby. The patterned Saultio tile floor had a five-color sunburst pattern in the center with the lead strips in silver. The raised main lobby had a barrel-vault ceiling that was tiled in a zigzag pattern. Limestone walls gave way to the metal and glass divider that separated the vestibule from the lobby. My eyes went to the gold leafed ceiling and the glorious brass chandelier that together were reminiscent of an illuminated solar system.

Aidan helped me out of my coat, handing it to the coat check girl who beamed him with a saucy smile. When he reached out to take the ticket, the girl had the audacity to rub her hand over his. He hustled me into the elevator, and we regarded each other's mirrored reflections. “Doesn’t it bother you that women continuously throw their assets at you?”

“No, it’s the ones who won’t that trouble me.”

“Dream big, and dream often, Palowski.” The door chimed and I saw a sea of people milling about, champagne flutes to highball glasses clanked together while soft jazz music filled the gaps between exchanges of scandalous gossip.

The cocktail waitresses were dressed in forties-inspired halter dresses, torpedo shaped breasts and all. Their fishnet stockings glittered in the lighting. Most of their pill box hats sat atop their heads slightly askew. Instead of cigarettes, their trays were laden with glassware filled to the brim with beverages that ranged in color from deep umber to crystal clear.

Lost in my admiration of the interior, I stumbled into the rigid back of the man in front of me. He turned toward me. From the spread collar button-cuffed shirt, to the black and gold striped retro tie and hanky, to the two gold double Zoot chains hanging from his waistband that matched his gold leather suspenders, he was retro forties. His expertly coiffed hair was hidden by his black gangster’s fedora with a single golden feather. Accardo.

When he recognized me, a smile lit his irritated face. “
Bella
, how nice for you to run into me tonight.” He took my hands and kissed my cheeks affectionately.

He extended a hand toward Aidan. “Palowski?”

“I didn’t realize you knew my girlfriend.”

“
Bella
and I are very well acquainted, aren’t we?” Mr. Accardo raised his eyebrow in question and smirked. “But I didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

I tilted my head and crossed my arms under my breasts. “Aidan, I’m Mr. Accardo’s attorney.” I paused for effect. “And that is the extent of our acquaintance.”

I watched as Aidan’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

“Now,
Bella
, don’t be so modest. At least tell him I tried my best to make you more than my attorney, or Palowski is going to think I’ve lost my touch with beautiful women.”

I looked at Aidan and rolled my eyes. He laughed. Before I could say more, Mr. Accardo’s cell rang.

“Excuse me.” He turned away. I couldn't hear any part of the conversation, and as his attorney, I was mighty curious.

“It seems you get around.” Aidan said. “I wonder how many other mutual acquaintances we have.”

“Very few, I would expect.”

Tony turned back toward us, annoyed but with a forced smile on his face. “This night is going to be a bit more challenging than I thought. Damn.”

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asked.

“Our jazz singer has come down with laryngitis.”

I must have looked perplexed because Aidan said, “Tony owns this place. I didn’t have the time to mention that.”

That’s why it was familiar. It was listed on Tony’s assets.

“If you will excuse me, I need to make some calls and see if I can salvage this. Have a great time, and I’ll catch up with you.” Tony moved into the crowd without a backward glance.

I took in the stage where the sixteen-piece band played a snazzy jazz standard. All the band members were in varying colored pin-striped Zoot suits, each with its solid colored tie, hanky, and fedora. The piano sat idle on one side.

Before I could gather my thoughts, one of the waitresses slithered alongside Aidan, batting her false eyelashes at him. “Hi Band-Aid,” she giggled before appraising me, as she gave him a seductive pout of ruby red lips.

“Hi, Candy. How have you been?”

“I haven’t heard from you in awhile. I thought I might once you dumped Vanessa.” The cigarette girl’s torpedoes were maneuvering around his upper arm like he was her particular brand of tobacco.

He had the decency to step away and made introductions, as if he’d rather be designated hitter for Babe Ruth.

I didn’t bother extending my hand. She looked at me like I was Sweet and Low, and she wanted raw sugar. Her eyes dilated on pure playboy baseball player sweetness.

“Just keep your back up. There’s a reason we call her Vindictive Vanessa.” She drew in her lips like she swallowed vinegar and disappeared into the crowd.

Aidan looked at me sheepishly.

“I think you might want to get a safety check—”

“I’m as clean as a whistle.”

“Because that Candy’s been in a lot of sticky hands.”

Aidan took my hand. “It didn’t mean a thing.”

“Don’t bother explaining, it would only incriminate you further.” I chortled.

He stuck one long finger into his collar and tugged. “We need a drink.” Aidan ordered me a glass of red wine and he chugged his beer, never letting it touch the bar top.

Then a thought struck me like a thunderbolt. “I need to speak to Tony.”

21

STRIKING OUT

Good Pitching will always stop good hitting and vice versa. Casey Stengel

Aidan 9 p.m.

Every pitch I’d thrown had hit a bat.

Disgusted with my homerun record, Libby went off to consult with Tony about her light bulb moment. Luckily, Tony was too distracted to put a full court press on Libby, but I wouldn’t put it past him to try to give new meaning to attorney client privileges. Tony didn’t impress me as the criminal type—to well bred and educated—but there was something about the guy that wasn’t entirely above board, and Libby was criminal defense.

The crowd had grown thick. I led myself into the heart of a hornet’s nest when I bumped into my ex. I was struggling to get Vanessa’s stinger out of my mouth, when I heard the cameras clicking around us.

I faced the viperous reporters head on. “The shows over, folks.” I gave them a stare down and they snaked away from the scene. “Vanessa, let’s have a word in private.”

She stormed off toward the back of the establishment, slamming through the stainless steel door and making several chefs jump. “Banford, you send that lawyer on her way.” Vanessa pointed one of her claws in the direction of the party. “How could you embarrass me like this in front of everyone? You want to play around with her. Fine, but don’t bring her out in public.”

I leaned against the door of one of the walk in refrigerators. “Would you like to discuss this like adults?”

“Get rid of that bitch.”

I thought my naughty ump spoke my thoughts out loud, when Vanessa’s voice registered.

“Libby is my date, and she’ll be leaving with me. You’re on the guest list because I didn’t think to have you taken off. I won’t neglect that detail again, if you can’t be civil.”

She ran her fingers through her hair. She was still wearing the diamond engagement ring. I didn’t begrudge her the spoils of my stupidity, but I didn’t like what it symbolized.

“I don’t need you to receive invitations.”

“I understand that, but this is my turf. Why don’t you go back to New York, and make this easy on everyone?”

“Make it easier on her, you mean?”

“You don’t even register in her hemisphere.”

Her eyes blinked, reptilian-like. “When I get through with her, she’ll definitely know my longitude and attitude.”

Word of the day, Goldilocks has too much to say.

“Stay away from Libby. I already spoke with her building security. You’re on their radar. What did you think to achieve?”

“I had to see for myself who you threw me over for, and I wanted to warn her about the kind of damage I can do.”

“You do what you have to, I’ll do the same. But if you hurt Libby, you’ll have to deal with a less reasonable me.”

My cell phone rang. It was Libby. She didn’t need a special tag for me to know it was her. “Hey, babe, I’m in the kitchen.”

“Eating Candy or Vandy?” She gave me a resigned sigh. “Never mind. Can you ask David to run to St. Ignatius?”

Wheels turned in my head; within seconds I caught up with her. She really was brilliant! I turned away from my current pain-in-the-butt to make arrangements.

When I turned back, Vanessa looked ready to strike. “Don’t mind me, Asshole.”

“I’m glad you think so, that should make this easier.”

“Listen, you have two choices, you can come back to me, or I will do everything in my power to ruin you both.”

I replaced my phone, looking down at her nose, which three plastic surgeons had worked on to get right. “It’s over between us. I’m never coming back. You’re expending energy and resources on something that isn’t going to produce results.”

“I am going to make wince meat out of you.”

“You really shouldn’t mince words.” I winced when I heard her tirade, which involved a pastry chef, ice cream, and garbage cans. I chuckled and moved away from the scene. Finding Libby in the throng wasn’t going to be easy.

* * *

We met Tony standing in front of the elevator doors. When they opened, Evita was staring out as if she might bottom out in a pit of fire and brimstone, being in a lounge again.

Tony’s response: “She’s got a beautiful face. Let’s see the rest.” Her wrap looked like some priest’s frock that covered her from neck to toe, but what she had on under it was enough to drive most men to the gates of hell on first class ticket.

The red sequined tube top dress she was shrink-wrapped into was two sizes too small and calling it a dress was an over embellishment. The dress belonged on stage, but wrapped around a pole. From the neck up, she looked like an elegant rendition of a Madonna, but from the neck down she emulated red hot carnal gratification. Regardless of her voice, every guy in the place was going to be mesmerized and mentally tabulating singles available in his front pocket at the same time.

Tony looked at Libby, who had her hand over her mouth before he said, “She’s dressed like a hooker.”

Evita responded in rapid fire Spanish.

Tony took a belligerent step toward her. “Did you just tell me to go to hell?”

She looked toward Libby. “He speaks Spanish?”

“Obviously.”

Evita put her hand on Libby’s forearm. “I’m so sorry. Father Ski called some ladies over from the neighborhood and this was the best they could do,” she said to Libby.

“I hope you’re using the term ladies loosely,” Tony said as he gaped from her glossy head to sparkly toes again.

Evita’s eyes went from amber to flaming red.

Tony jabbed me in the ribs drawing my attention away from Evita. I looked at Libby and thought of good intentions paving the way to hell. I winked at her.

“It isn’t as if they have proper evening attire laying around in a rectory for heaven’s sake,” Evita said putting her hands on the curve of her hips daring anyone to contradict her.

“Of course not,” Libby said.