“Unfortunately, that comes with the territory. Men will be nice to your face, waiting to stab you in the back. Women will come after you looking for a way to get to your money. Everyone will want a piece of you. You can trust me to always have your best interest in mind.”
“You really going to tack another ten percent on the contract?”
“Yep.” I take a sip of beer to hide my grin.
“Come on, man… we’re buds now.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders and gives me a pitiful attempt at looking sad.
I shove him off and shake my head. “I said you can trust me, not that I trust you. You have to earn that.”
“Ouch!” He falls over, clutching his chest. “That hurts.”
Darren and Joe laugh at him, obviously hearing what was said. My phone starts ringing, and Gail’s name scrolls across the screen.
“If it isn’t Cupid herself,” I say with a smile and walk inside the boat cabin.
“I’m only Cupid if you finally opened your eyes,” she replies.
“Consider them opened, but something tells me you already knew that.”
“Well, I will say you’ve been pretty obvious lately.”
“Is that why you’re calling on a Saturday afternoon? To check on my love life?”
“Considering you’ve never had one, I think I deserve to. But sadly, no, that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Everything okay?” A million thoughts race through my mind. It’s not unusual for me to get business calls at all times, and considering my phone’s been off, it makes sense the calls would go to Gail.
“Business wise, yes. I hate to even bother you, but—”
“Gail?”
“Do you know a Sasha Crane?” She pauses, and her hesitation makes the hair on the back of my neck stand.
“I do, why?”
“She’s trying to get a hold of you. Quite persistently.”
“What does she want?” I spit out.
“Apparently, to talk to you. She’s called numerous times today. Your office calls are rolling to me, and I finally answered. I didn’t know who she was, and she isn’t in any of our client files. She said you weren’t answering your cell. When I explained you were out of town and wouldn’t be returning until Tuesday, she assumed you were in Atlanta at Nick’s game. Her attitude turned very hoity, insisting I schedule a meeting for Tuesday.”
“Shit, did you?”
“Hell no, I told her you were booked. She turned into a royal bitch, telling me she is a lawyer friend and has to speak with you regarding a case.”
“She’s no friend of mine, and I wouldn’t call her a lawyer. We have no business relationship.”
“I know. I researched her while she was ranting about how important she is and that I’d regret it if I didn’t do what she said.”
“How’d you leave it with her?”
“That’s why I’m calling. After she realized her ranting wasn’t working, and I wasn’t intimidated, she changed her tune. She apologized a little too sickly sweet for my taste. It was like she was bipolar. She told me she’d drop by the office next week. She’d like to meet me in person.”
“Shit. We need to talk to Angie in reception. I don’t want her near our office.”
“Crenshaw, who is this woman?”
The use of my first name sets me even further on edge. Her tone is a mixture of worry and aggravation.