“Not my scene.” I returned to my station to sanitize my equipment and wipe the chair.
“What? What the hell is your scene if it’s not him?”
I hadn’t yet figured out how to fit Bailey into my life. The fact that I was having those thoughts about him still didn’t make sense, but fuck it. Something about Bailey was addictive, and seeing him so lost and broken, when I was used to only the flirting, joking, and sensual side, chipped away at my rock-hard heart. Spending the weekend with him opened my eyes to moreof the puzzle that made up Bailey Marks. I’d never been into games, but I itched to fit his pieces together.
“Maybe I’m not looking.”
In a rare bout of gentleness, Ambrose patted my arm. “I know it’s been hard since you lost Carlos. But it sucks to be alone. Since I met Carly, I’ve been less angry.”
Not that I’d seen, but if he believed it, more power to him.
“It’s not that.” I didn’t want to talk about it, and luckily the phone rang with a new appointment to distract me. But Ambrose waited until I ended the call and put the customer in the computer.
“I meant to ask. How was the weekend with your brother? You were in a cabin upstate?”
My smile was true. “It was cool. I really like Lauren, his fiancée. She’s pretty awesome. It was fun, actually. Grady had a bunch of his friends there, and Lauren had some of hers. We all hung out, went apple-picking. It was…nice.”
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a commercial for one of those cheesy holiday movies Carly loves to watch.”
I snickered. “Yeah. I said that too. A bunch of lawyers and me.”
“So did you have a chance to talk to Grady about Lucas? You had the whole weekend. Could you find a couple of minutes?”
I hesitated. “He wasn’t too hopeful. I’ve told you that before. Remember, he’s not a criminal attorney. He does family law—adoptions, child custody, that kind of stuff.”
Ambrose’s shoulders slumped. “I know, I know. It’s just…Lucas didn’t get a fair trial, I’m positive. His lawyers sucked. No offense to your brother, but they all suck. Money-grubbers makin’ a living off people’s suffering.”
While I could agree with him on some of that, it didn’t apply to all of them, and definitely not to the people I’d met this weekend, like Faith and Della, who prosecuted scumbags preying on kids and vulnerable people.
“I never asked, but what does Lauren do? Don’t tell me she’s a lawyer too?”
The last thing I’d reveal to Ambrose was that Lauren worked for the office that put his brother away.
“Yeah. But nothing that could help Lucas.”
His hand formed a fist. “Dammit. How can you surround yourself with all these sharks?”
“Maybe I’m learning not to judge a person’s character by their profession. I mean, how many times have we bitched to each other that people think we’re criminals or in a gang because of our tattoos?”
But arguing with Ambrose was like spitting into the wind—he just flew right back at me with my own words.
“Yeah, but lots of different people have tats now. You gotta be a certain kind of person to be a lawyer.”
Tired of his complaining, I brushed him off. “Yeah. Grady’s got ink, and he’s a lawyer. He’s also my brother, so knock it off already with the lawyer crap.”
His face turned hard. “Damn, they sucked you in too.”
“Enough,” I snapped. The door opened, and my next client appeared. “I’ve got work, and you have someone in about fifteen minutes.”
“I know my schedule. Thanks.”
The rest of the day was spent mostly in silence, and I hated it. Ambrose had been with me from the start, and I’d seen how his blind loyalty to Lucas was beginning to destroy his relationships with the people who cared most about him.
At six o’clock, as I was cleaning up, I got a text from Bailey. I’d thought about him all day but had refrained from getting in touch. He’d seemed upset when I left that morning, and when his name popped up, I immediately wondered if he was canceling.
Still on for tonight?
I could feel happiness tugging at my lips, and darted a glance over to where Jodi and Ambrose were putting away their instruments. I didn’t need them in my business, for different reasons. Jodi would go next level with ooey-gooey giggles, and Ambrose would either take a swing at me or accuse me of fraternizing with the enemy.
