Broken Road Café 1 - The Broken Road Café (2 page)

It was late by the time Dan got back to the loft. He was tired, drained to the bone, and he hoped to hell that Abe had done what he was told and gotten the hell out. Even if it was just for the night, he needed to sleep alone. He couldn’t get past the sense of betrayal, in every aspect of his life. One thing he knew, he needed to get a fucking handle on whatever caused his life to implode.

The silence in the condo was both a comfort and a curse. He was so used to coming home—sometimes on time but mostly late—after putting in twelve or fourteen hours working on a case. He’d try his best to be quiet, closing the door softly and tip-toeing up the stairs. Some nights he’d find Abe intently working, so wrapped up in what he was writing that when Dan bent to kiss him, he’d jump and laugh. Other nights, Abe would be stretched out asleep, looking so innocent and peaceful that Dan’s breath would catch in his chest.

Dan stood in the bedroom, not sure how he’d gotten there. Staring at the bed, he wondered how he’d been so wrong. About Abe, with whom he’d shared so much, the most intimate of acts and words of love and care and trust. About Gary, whom he’d met in high school and was the first person he’d trusted with all of who he really was, and with whom he’d shared the first tentative kiss that verified he really was gay. About Kerry, whom they’d met in college, and how happy he was for Gary when he saw Kerry for the first time and watched the two of them stop in the middle of the administration quad, hardly breathing, their gazes locked and…

Shaking his head, he started to sit on the edge of the bed and unlace his boots when he remembered who had been on it last, and what they’d been doing. In disgust, he straightened and went to the guest room, wondering if he’d ever be able to sleep in that bed again. It wasn’t often he and Abe slept apart— usually when Dan was off at a conference, or Abe visited his parents, who hated Dan and thought their beloved Abraham was only going through a phase. Then they would call each other and whisper words of comfort, or sex, or share a simple
I love you
. Never did it feel like something ended, something final.

He didn’t have the energy to strip anything else off, so he just set the alarm on his cell phone, climbed under the covers, shut off the light, and closed his eyes. At some point his mind finally shut down and sleep pulled him into darkness.

The next time Dan opened his eyes, the sun was just beginning to peek over the edge of his patio. He glanced over at his cell, and it was a few minutes before six and time for his alarm to go off. He had a partners’ meeting at eight, so he’d have to be up and showered, shaved and out the door before seven. He usually prepped, read all the cases and updates and minutia Davonna, the executive secretary, sent out the day before, but not today. Today he would focus on the one case that mattered. He’d find out why he was assigned a criminal case. Fuck anything else.

Standing in front of the mirror, Dan gave himself a critical look. The stress of the past ten years of working sixty and seventy and eighty hour work weeks, kissing ass, making himself seem brighter, more, and better, had left lines permanently etched into his forehead and between his eyes. The ones at the corner of his eyes were from laughing and having fun with…no, he wouldn’t think about Abe this morning.

His straight line of a nose and full mouth had served him well when he was younger and hunting for release at the clubs. That and his curly black hair, pale skin, and dark coal black eyes gave away his Irish heritage, and women practically threw their panties at him. Most men tended to look at him, with his six foot plus height and see a new friend, but those others…they didn’t seem to mind having a few drinks and making out with him in the corner, then doing the walk of shame out his door the next morning. Until the occasional man would see past his seriousness and ambition, the gaze that looked past them when trite conversations bored him, and
saw
him. Saw the big-hearted guy who loved dogs, music, and sappy movies.

Not that there were many of those, he sighed regrettably. Gary got him immediately. So did Abe. Goddamn them both.

Dan finished shaving and pulled out his black pinstriped suit. If the fucking partners wanted him to defend drug dealing gangsters, he would dress like one. Maybe he could give them the benefit of the doubt, but he had a really bad feeling about the meeting. His personal life was crashing into a million jagged little pieces, so why shouldn’t his professional life? He’d go in, listen to what the other partners had to say, then…

Then what, Dan wasn’t exactly sure. But he knew one thing for certain—he was taking back control of his life, and for damned sure his happiness. Fuck this being sucker punched bullshit. He’d made partner in one of the most successful law firms in Atlanta at a record age by being harder and more ruthless than all the other associates.
That
Dan had gotten a bit complacent, it appeared. No more—he’d remind them his balls were made of titanium, and he came to play hardball.

Tightening the knot on his tie into a perfect Windsor, he gave a practiced smile, the one that showed a hint of teeth and made him look sexy and dangerous.
That should do.
Grabbing his keys and wallet, he closed the door behind him.

Those already in the office went deathly quiet as he made his way through the halls of the firm. Dan smiled at everyone, imagining it was Shark Week on
The Discovery Channel,
and he was a great white and they were all surfers. The averted gazes, the glances that shifted away quickly, once upon a time they would have had him wondering what they’d heard and how he needed to adjust his ass-kissing. Now, he wanted to stand there in his kilt and beat his chest at the invading hordes like Mel Gibson in
Braveheart
, before he went off the rails and became all crazyassed maybe, and show them all who was boss. His own secretary—Charity, a girl misnamed if ever one was—sat ramrod straight in her chair and rolled her eyes at him. “Good morning, Dan. I see you must have had a bagel with lox this morning, since all the chum out there is still safe.”

God, he loved that woman. “And good morning to you too, princess. Yes, it’s going to be an
I’m-a-pit-bull-and-you-are-wearing-kibblepanties
kind of day. Oh, do me a favor and hold my calls. Especially if it’s Abe. Or Gary. Or Kerry. In fact, you can tell them…no, I’ll do that. No sense in giving them ammunition if they call each other. And for damn sure don’t put through any calls from Greg.”
She raised both delicately plucked eyebrows and gave him a look of pure innocence. “Trouble in paradise? Oh, my. Didn’t see
that
coming.”
“Love you long time, Catwoman. I’ll leave a bowl of cream and a live mouse for you before I go into the partner’s meeting.”
She turned and put her Bluetooth earpiece back in. “Get to work, you sweet talking thing, before I report you for sexual harassment.”
“Love you too.”
Dan opened his office and hit the light switch, tossing his briefcase on the chair. He didn’t really think he would need it today, but he had his tablet and padfolio in it. Hitting his mouse, he woke his desktop and quickly logged into his work email account. Ignoring all the bullshit
hope you are okay
and
where the fuck are you
messages, he zeroed in on the key two or three. The meeting agenda and case briefing summary attachments from Davonna, and a slap on his hand from Simkins, the toad. Switching to his personal e-mail account…ah, one from Abe, with
“Please read”
on the title line. Another from Gary, with
“If twenty years of friendship means anything…”
as the teaser.
Hmmm. Maybe he should respond,
“It means as much as having a three-way in my bed. With my lover.”
Or would that be too subtle? Dan knew he’d have to hit this thing head-on, but until he had his own position clear in his head, he couldn’t. He’d never wanted to hurt someone so badly, hit them and see blood and pain and fear as he did with those two. He supposed he should tar Kerry with the same brush, but he wasn’t sure he cared that much. Odd, the funny little things he thought when he let his mind wander freely.
And here he was, bothering to spare any thoughts for them at all when he had work to attend to. Dan let the pointer hover over delete, but decided to wait on opening the two messages in his personal account, putting them out of mind. He moved back to his work account, then downloaded the meeting agenda and began to review the files. He had half an hour to get his mind working and his tongue sharpened before the meeting started.
Twenty nine minutes later he walked into the partners’ conference room with a cup of coffee and his legal pad. The cases, other than the Delgado clusterfuck, were of little or no interest to him this morning. After reading the background information on his client, and on Randolph and Mays, he had serious questions and concerns about the firm, and his role there.
Six faces turned to him, but it was Greg Simkins’s self-satisfied cat-who-ate-the-canary grin that fed his resolve. “Nice of you to make it, O’Leary,” Greg’s sarcastic voice cut through the silence in the room.
Dan set his coffee down and looked at his watch. “Twenty seconds to spare, Greggie. Just enough time to catalogue your positive personality traits, don’t you think? With enough time to take a bio break after?”
The smile faltered for a brief second, but the fire in Greg’s eyes only flared brighter. The two had never liked each other—no great loss—and only one would probably be left standing at the end of the meeting. “Shall we get down to business then?” Greg turned in his chair and made a show of lining his papers up with the edge of his laptop.
Dan tossed his pad on the table next to his coffee and sat. “Excellent idea. Shall we start with the Delgado case then?”
“That’s not on the agenda. Now,” Greg continued without sparing a glance at Dan, “Miller and Falls are on tap to—“
“It’s on the agenda now. Unless I’m mistaken, I am still a partner here. And I want answers.” This time Greg did look at him, one eyebrow cocked. The other partners sat back and let the mini-drama play out between the two players currently on the stage.
Good. I’ll get to those spineless bastards in a minute
. “Why did we take on this case? Randolph and Mays is a two-bit trucking company which doesn’t fit our normal client profile, and for damned sure a criminal drug indictment against a second tier executive isn’t in our best interests. Especially”—Dan looked around the table, nailing Craig Jackson, the partner who usually took on all criminal defense cases, with a glare—“when we all know I have zero criminal defenses, drug related or otherwise, under my belt. Care to explain?”
The silence was deafening. Dan stared at Craig, making it clear he wasn’t going to let the matter drop. Finally, the other man cleared his throat. “Well, Dan, you’re the newest on the letterhead, and it makes sense for you to do this one. We all have to take one for the team sometime, you know.”
“So
that’s
what this is about? Taking one for the team?” Dan looked around the table. “Not. Gonna. Happen.” He sat back, snagging his coffee as he did. The partners weren’t used to him being so vocal and going against them. Other associates, yes, he challenged them all the time. And the odd partner, respectfully, but with calculated intent. He knew Simkins would take him on and try to slap him down, and maybe Carter Hanks, the oldest partner, might try to give him a dressing down, but it would be a cold day in hell before any of these suits bullied him. Hell, he’d walk before that happened.
Suddenly, he thought about the catering company from the meeting the day before. How good the food was, how the coffee beat the hell out of the sludge he was drinking now, and Dan wondered, not for the first time but with surprising clarity and strength, if it might not be time to lay all his chips on the table and call their bluff. At worst, if he lost, he could wait tables or work as a barista. He’d done it in college, and he sure as hell wasn’t above it now. And would probably have a lot more fun.
Carter’s crisp voice snapped him back to the present. “You’ll take the case, and you’ll do whatever it takes to get Delgado off. This case is important to the firm. Therefore it’s important to you. You’ll have whatever resources you need at your disposal, and any associate you need, just let Simpkins know.” He shifted in his chair to face Dan. “This is a done deal. Don’t rock the boat on this, Dan. Win the case. You’ll earn the gratitude of some very influential people.”
For a moment, Dan was sure he looked like a fish, his mouth agape. “What the fuck is this,
The Sopranos
? Influential people? Drug cases? Is this supposed to be an offer I can’t refuse?”
Dan could feel the silence in the room like a weight on his shoulders. His questions hung there, unanswered, and the small hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Something was wrong, and he was going to make these cold bastards put a name to it.
It was Greg who finally spoke. “Dan, there are bigger issues at play here. We”—he motioned to the group around the table, using his best slick courtroom voice—“all have to make…concessions to keep clients happy. Now that you’re a partner, you’ll have to work with people who you might normally not want to socialize with. But, at the end of the day, these same people pay the rent on your office, put gas in your car, make your mortgage payment on that very nice condo you share with that young writer fellow you seem to care so much about. Although, it seems there might be some trouble in paradise there from what I saw this morning, hmm?”
His speech was so reasonable, his patter so slick. And Dan was right there with him until the last little bit about Abe. Dan’s anger shifted into something darker, and his own training kicked in. He looked at a point on the ceiling, his voice pitched low when he began. “My personal life is off the table, and if you bring it back up in any way, shape or form, Simkins, you’ll find yourself in court and reported to the bar association for harassment. And since the only way you could know about anything related to any…issues would be to either hack into my
personal
e-mail account or bug my loft--in either case, I might just call in the feds. And given the nature of the case you’re trying to shove down my throat, I somehow doubt you want to do much explaining. About anything.”
He paused and took a last swallow of his coffee, looking down and then raising his eyes to meet each and every person’s gaze at the table. “This is beginning to sound like a second-rate production of a John Grisham novel. So, here’s what were gonna do.” Dan paused, tapping on his tablet, checking his mental calculations. “You are gonna buy me out, I am going to walk away from this…bullshit, and I don’t want to hear from any of you buttweasels again.”
Dan paused, tearing a page off his legal pad and scribbling a number. He slid it across the table, aiming it to stop in front of Greg. “This is the minimum I would expect as a payout. I could get more, but I won’t get greedy. Don’t fuck with me on this. As you all know, my specialty is forensic accounting, not criminal defense. I’ll tie you bastards up in court, shining bright lights on all your dirty little secrets and make you regret ever making me partner if you screw with me. I know about all your affairs, your hook-ups, your drugs of choice, and your hookers’ names and numbers.” He looked at Greg, his smile cold-blooded. “You people forget who you ask to clean up your messes and arrange your little trysts. I’ll expect an answer via email—unhacked, please— before the end of the day.”
He stood, taking his tablet and nodding to the room en mass. “Gentleman. It’s been…something less than a pleasure. Goodbye.”
Closing the door behind him as he left, Dan felt a huge weight lift off his chest.
Well, that went well. One down, two to go
.