Perfect Match. Dara Girard
you so’ over the past year.”
Doreen set her glass down with regret. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you keep making these mistakes. I told you Evie was no good.”
“Yes.”
“And that she was desperate.”
Amal drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I know.”
“And that pathetic woman before her. I said she was only after your money.”
He sighed and drummed faster. “I know.”
“Since Jade, your taste in women has taken a dive.”
Amal stopped drumming and shook his head. “No, not my taste. Just my luck. Don’t worry. I’m not interested in another relationship. I’m through with women for now.”
Doreen started to laugh.
“You think that’s funny?”
“I think that’s impossible. The moment you started nursing I knew you were straight.”
Amal squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed. “Mom!”
“It’s true. You’ve always loved women and everything about them.”
“From now on I promise I’ll enjoy them from afar.” He pointed at her. “Stop laughing. I’m serious.”
“You’re trying to be, but it’s not working.”
“I mean it. My only focus is winning this case against the Walkers. Until it’s through I’m off the market.”
“Unless she has the right dimensions,” Doreen said, cupping the air.
“Don’t be crass. You’re my mother.”
“Grow up. I’m also a woman who knows how men think,” Doreen said with a smirk. “Especially you, my dear boy. I know all your weak spots.”
Yes, he had weak spots, and one of them had been Jade. He’d made mistakes, but he wouldn’t let the Walkers exploit them. What his mother hadn’t realized was how much winning meant to him, and no woman would stand in his way. “I’m not going to let the Walkers take away everything Jade and I built together. She wouldn’t want that.”
“So you’ve finally found a lawyer?”
“I will.”
Doreen picked her up her glass and finished its contents as if it were a lot stronger than water. “I’ve asked around and no one is interested. I’m not sure you can win this with your inventory tied up. The Walkers are going to play hardball. It’s going to cost you a lot of money. I can take care of you until you get back on your feet.”
“No way. I’m not having you bail me out of this. I’m going to win. I’m offering a lot of money. I’ll find someone who will bite.”
* * *
Hannah looked at the prices on the menu and winced. The only things within her budget were the water and breadsticks. She knew the price didn’t cover just the cost of the food, but also the ambience and the waterfront view. She glanced up at her two friends, glad that they were focused on their orders so she had more time to decide what to do. Dana Wentworth had a name that hinted at white Anglo-Saxon Protestant breeding and generations of wealth, but she was born in Queens to a Jewish deli owner and his Catholic Italian wife. She had olive-toned skin, dark green eyes and a full figure that she always dressed well. She’d worked her way from New York City into the suburbs of North Carolina, although none of her family could understand her interest in living in the South. She’d made a nice life as a corporate lawyer in a prestigious firm. Natasha Petrov was a Russian immigrant whose poor parents had sent her to live with wealthy relatives in Missouri, who had adopted her as their own. Blonde and slender, she’d married a wealthy man, so price was never an issue. Although she didn’t need the money, she worked part-time in family law. They’d remained friends after law school, although their lives had taken divergent paths. Hannah wondered if she’d be able to meet with them anymore.
“The salmon salad looks delicious,” Dana said.
Natasha shook her head. “No, I think I’ll have the chicken primavera.”
“What about you, Hannah?”
“Oh, I’ll just have tea and um...”
“The risotto.”
“No, I—”
“You’ll love it,” Natasha said. “Trust me. I had it here before,” she said with a quick flick of her wrist, the light catching her large diamond wedding ring.
Hannah only smiled, imagining twenty bucks she was going to use to pay an overdue bill bursting into flames.
The food arrived and the three friends discussed different topics, including Natasha’s recent visit to Russia, Dana’s work woes and Hannah’s family troubles, although she didn’t reveal too much.
“Oh,” Dana said. “You won’t believe what news has been circulating in the legal gossip chain. Some crazy playboy is in an estate battle with the Wild Walkers.”
“An estate battle?” Hannah asked.
“Yes, but here’s the kicker. He doesn’t have a lawyer and he’s been going around town offering a boatload of money for anyone to take his case.”
“And no one will?” Hannah asked with interest. The new contractor the stranger from the park had referred had given her a lower estimate for fixing her parents’ house. Unfortunately, it was still too much for their budget, even with what little she could help them with.
“Not if you want to have a career in law. The Walkers are brutal.”
“Yes,” Natasha said. “Remember the case The Walkers versus Baldano Flooring Company? They put them out of business.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” Hannah asked.
Natasha grabbed her friend’s arm. “You’re not thinking of—”
Dana shook her head. “Hannah, I know you want a juicy case, but this isn’t the one to start with.”
“Just tell me his name,” Hannah said.
Dana looked at Natasha, who shrugged. “She’d find out anyway,” she said.
“It’s Amal Harper.”
“Amal Harper. That name sounds vaguely familiar.”
“It should be more than familiar. He’s the owner of The Eye of Jade, the classy art company that has extravagant art shows and sells unique art pieces from around the world.”
“So he has a lot of money.”
“For now. Once the Walkers are finished with him, he may have to move out of state just to get a job working in a fast-food chain.”
“Don’t do it,” Natasha said.
“I didn’t say I would,” Hannah replied. “I’m just curious.”
“Said the cat on the last day of her nine lives,” Dana said in a grim tone.
* * *
Usually Hector didn’t like surprises, but that Thursday afternoon was an exception. He stared at the phone, picking it up and putting it down twice just to make sure it was real and that he wasn’t dreaming. He felt like dancing around the room. But he knew he couldn’t get too happy because he had to find out more about Hannah Olaniyi before he told Amal. She was interested in handling his case. What if she wasn’t up to the task? Or what if she was just in it for the money? Then it would be a wasted effort. But at least this was a start.
“Who is it?”
He spun around and stared at Amal, who’d come into the office carrying a large brown folder. “What?” he said, feigning innocence.
A