The Last Normal Afternoon
Rox had always heard that Cash Amsberg was loaded.
It was obvious from the way that his suits and shirts were precisely tailored far too well to be off the rack and from the car that he drove. The Mercedes Maybach wasn’t an ostentatious, low streak of red lightning like a Lamborghini.
No, it was more deceptive than that.
The paint on the outside was a refined charcoal gray, but the interior upholstery and finishes shimmered in a lighter shade, like sitting inside the palest of Tahitian black pearls.
It looked just like a very nice Mercedes sedan until you realized that it saidMaybachon the back, that the leather under your butt was softer than the most buttery leather jacket you had ever felt, and that all those wood and silver finishes meant the price tag had to be around two hundred grand.
Like Cash, it was merely pretty until you saw more of it, and then there was something else, something that Rox had never quite sussed out of him, a luxurious vibe.
When Rox belted the cat carriers into the back seat, the sharp odors of fresh plastic, wood oil, and tanned leather permeated the car.
“Your car smells new,” she said to him. “Did you have it detailed? How did they do that?”
He shrugged. “I got a new one.”
She stared at it. “It’s exactly like the one you had last month.”
“Of course. The dealership kept my order on file.”
“Your new car is exactly like your old one?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
One of his eyebrows lowered, and his shrug seemed nervous. “Because I wouldn’t want people to notice.”
Rich people were weird. When Rox had bought her little black sports car, she had made all the paralegals and admins in the firm come out to the parking lot and had given them all rides in it.
Yes, she had always heard that Cash Amsberg was loaded.
But no one from the office had ever been to his house.
He held his expected social events in downtown hotel ballrooms, demurring that his house was too far out of the way for people to be expected to drive to.
And now Cash was driving them through a neighborhood of mansions.
Gates and fences cordoned off entire hills, and exactly one house perched on each hill.
One huge house per enormous hill.
Rox rode in the passenger seat as Cash drove along the meandering street. In the back seat, cat carriers lined up, each with a seat belt lashing it in place. Midnight howled his displeasure. Pirate and Speedbump flattened themselves against the floors of their carriers and suffered in silence but with glaring looks.
“I really appreciate this,” Rox said for the thousandth time.
“Don’t mention it. About the meeting with Monty this afternoon, we should strategize. Monty thought he would be dealing with Valerie. How shall we use that to our advantage?”
“Guilt?” Rox suggested. “‘Poor Valerie had a stroke. Kind of your fault, isn’t it, Monty? Shoving screwed-up contracts like this at her?’ That’ll get him.”
“Nice. I like that.”
“And then after that, I need to go back to the office. I have to drop a contract in the cloud to work on tonight. I hate that security system.”
“Everyone hates it,” he said, checking the rear view mirror.
