“Mmm,” Petty said, not really listening. He wasn’t the kindto pay much attention to the help. “I assume she paid you a retainer?”
I shrugged.
He regarded me for a moment and then said, “Ah. She’s angling for divorce via adultery.” He pursed his lips. “I’ll pay you five times what she did.”
“To do what?”
“Take some time off,” he said.
Ah hah. So he was cheating, too.
People can get into such weird relationships.
“Wouldn’t be professional,” I said.
Something flickered in his eyes. I’d crossed him and he didn’t like it.
“I assume,” he said, “that you know who I am, ‘Jake.’ ”
“Yes.”
“And who I work for?”
“Yes.”
“Reconsider.”
I frowned. “Okay.” I paused. “Still wouldn’t be professional.”
The barista came back. Petty spoke quietly to her. Then he examined his new espresso and sipped it, giving me a hard look. He knew how. “This can be profitable for you,” he said, “or it can cost you.”
“Mr.Petty,” I said, “I’ve got nothing personal in this. I’m just a guy doing a job.”
“It’s rather personal to me,” he said. “We’ll both be happier if you take the money.”
Maybe something in his tone annoyed me. Or maybe I don’t react too well to being crossed, either. “I’m a pretty happy guy, naturally.”
“Things change.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I replied amiably from behind my false face.
Light footsteps came from behind, and a young woman in a tennis outfit, blond, fit, and pretty, threw herself into the seat beside him and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Good morning,” she burbled.
He glanced from me to her, his expression frustrated. “I’m doing business, Cammy.”
She blinked at him, and then flushed, scowling. “Oh. Oh, then excuse me,” she said in a stiff tone. She glared at me. “I can’t believe you’d speak to me like that in front of strangers.”
Petty started to snap something and then visibly controlled himself. “Stop talking. Now. I’ll meet you on the court in a few minutes and explain.”
“You’d better, stupid,” snapped Cammy. “You don’t want things to get out of control.” She stood up and walked away. I watched her go. Great calves.
When I looked back at Petty, he was staring after her with a mix of venom and lust in his eyes. He noticed me watching him.
“Push this,” he said, “and you won’t need a five-year plan. Work with me, I could arrange more business for you.”
“Generous,” I said. “But.”
A couple of sets of heavier footsteps approached, and a pair of beefy security guys showed up in white shirts with epaulets and walkie-talkies and belts with gadgets. Ah. He’d asked the barista to call them.
