42nd & Lex (17 page)

“No, sir,” Mark answered. “She thinks I have
become a workaholic or that I have a drinking problem.” Mark wanted to cry but
since his incident, he couldn’t must the tears necessary.

“I have represented men in your situation
before. It is delicate, but I think we can work around it. She never has to
know. No one has to know.” Mr. Hicks almost sounded concerned for Mark until he
cleared his throat and began again with, “Now, to the matter of my fee. Given
the assets at stake here and the delicate nature of your situation, I will
require a fee a bit outside of my normal neighborhood for a divorce.”

Mr. Hicks took a piece of paper from the
corner of his desk and inked a number at the top before pushing it to Mark for
his perusal. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 

Mark nodded in agreement. “I’ll have my
business manager wire you the money on Monday.” Serge’s eyes widened in greed at
the mention of that amount of cash. Mark was sure Serge didn’t know exactly how
wealthy Mark was until now.

“That’ll be fine. We’ll be in touch on
Monday about the particulars. I haven’t worked with Abri Cole before, but I’ve
heard she’s no push over. Fair with a good head on her shoulders.”

Relieved that Hicks doesn’t know Abri Cole
and her connection to Lucan O’Reilly, Mark merely nodded in reply. If Serge had
had a pulse it would have been racing at the mere mention of her name, but
since he didn’t his fangs reacted instead. He put his hand over his mouth as if
to cover a cough. 

“We should be going, Mark,” he said as he stood
with his hand over his mouth. Mark and Serge made their leave of Mr. Hicks and
his flashy secretary and headed back out into the cold, sunny morning. 

After helping Lucan wash and put away the
breakfast dishes, I make a beeline for the bathroom to get ready. The giant tub
stands empty and lonely in the middle of the room. Maybe after my dinner with
Sarah we can come back here and make use of it again. The memories of the other
night cause me to dial back the hot water on the shower at little so I can cool
off.

I wash my hair and I’m out of the shower and
dried off within five minutes. I pull on a sweatshirt and some jeans; brush my
hair and put on a little make up. Unless I have a date, which I will probably
have more of now, I never get dressed up on the weekends. Lucan is standing on
the other side of the door when I open it. He has on those sexy, low-slung jeans
and a gray v-neck t-shirt. I almost ask if he’ll be cold, but realize he
probably doesn’t notice cold like I do. 

“Nope,”
he replies. 

“Do
you think I’ll need coat up there?”

“Probably
not. They’ve turned part of the floor into office space so the heat is probably
still on.”

It
is usually cold in my office on Saturdays so I elect to bring a coat anyways.
Lucan shakes his head. He probably doesn’t remember what it is like to be cold,
or maybe he is always cold and it doesn’t bother him, being dead and all. 

“Maybe,”
is his reply.

I am
going to stop having one-sided conversations with myself in my head. He
probably thinks I’m crazy with all the things that run through my brain.  

“No,
please, I like it. I’m getting to know you that way.”

“Or
we could just have a regular conversation, you know, back and forth. Together. Out
loud.” I say with just a hint of annoyance in my voice as I walk past. “Crap! I
wish I had my camera.”

Lucan
walks over to a cabinet near the TV and removes a camera bag from one of the
drawers. Inside is a big, fancy digital SLR camera. All I have at home is what
my mom always called a “point-n-shoot,” the kind you have to wind after every
picture. 

“Here,
you can borrow this one. I’ll have them printed for you this afternoon.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“I’ll show you how it works when we get up
there.” He looks pleased that I don’t know the slightest thing about it. Here
he is, five hundred plus years old, and he knows more about a computerized
contraption than I do. Then again, Lucan was around when the Commodore 64 and
Pong were hot news. Lucan’s smile disappears and he amps me as I head into the
elevator ahead of him. Well, it’s true. 

We take the rickety beast back down to the
66
^th
floor to catch the regular elevator to the 71
^st
. The
lobby of the 71
^st
floor is in much better shape than the lobby on
the 66
^th
. The original stars and planets motif is still on the
ceilings and the light fixtures that look like planets. It reminds me of the
wizard’s chambers in
The Wizard of Oz
. Lucan shows me around the corner
to the old observation area. Glass walls separate it from the rest of the floor
but the wall paintings continue inside. The signature triangular windows line
the walls. I'll never understand why the building’s owners won’t allow the
public to see this! We pass through the ancient turnstiles that once accepted a
nickel from patrons to gain entrance. The view out of the windows is limited to
a north, northwestern view, but there is still plenty to see. I can make out
the theater district below with all of its flashing marquees and St. Patrick’s
cathedral. The most impressive and recognizable buildings are those of
Rockefeller Center.

Central Park with its grassy lawns and
forests is visible further up the island. I am so absorbed in the view that I
hardly notice Lucan step out of the observatory to answer his cell phone. Putting
the fancy camera to use, I snap the skyline, walls, ceilings, and floors. The
camera isn’t hard to work at all, just like my little point-n-shoot, once I
turned it on. I even figure out how to make it take photos in black and white.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Lucan when he returns.

“That was an associate of mine at the
Enclave. Rumor has it your Mr. Ainsworth has hired an attorney to represent him
in his divorce.” In my world, that is just stating the obvious. Of course the
man needs to hire a lawyer, he is being sued. 

“He needs to hire one. He’s rich and his
very upset wife is suing him for divorce. Not to mention the fact that we know
he’s, well, you know.”

I am not sure if it’s for my own benefit or
Lucan’s that I avoid the term, but either way, he knows what I am talking
about. Not that it will factor into the divorce. I can just see myself standing
in front of the judge asking for Sarah to get a larger share of their community
assets—including those assets that Sarah doesn’t know about, but I am sure
exist— because her hubby is a vampire. Half vampire, whatever. In my mind, the
distinction is less of a necessity. He is still not all together human. 

“He’s hired an Enclave lawyer. He doesn’t
really work for the Enclave, per se, but he’s what you might call sympathetic
to the cause. He’s a real bottom feeder of a lawyer too, Abri. Not someone you
want to deal with.”

I smirk at the fact that Lucan distinguishes
between lawyers that are bottom feeders and those that are not. Most folks think
all lawyers are bottom feeders.

“Well that may be, but it’s not like either
of us are going to mention to the judge that Mark’s a vampire or a Halfling. We’d
both be laughed out of court.”

“True, but that doesn’t mean Mr. Hicks won’t
do things in his power, or in the power of others to make this case difficult,”
Lucan’s pauses. “Or disappear. Think about it Abri. How does Mark know someone
connected to vampire society? It means whoever turned him is still in the
picture. Mark may seem harmless but there are plenty of people out there that
are not. And I use the term people loosely.”

Lucan is right. This Mr. Hicks isn’t going
to play entirely by the same rules as me. His bread is buttered in the
supernatural world and I imagine he plans to keep it that way. But Mark is an
aberration, not something any vampire would want running around, so why not
just get rid of him. Why feel some sort of allegiance to him in hooking him up
with Hicks?

Lucan answers me. “To keep their mistake hidden.
To keep Sarah and you from poking your noses where they don’t belong. There is
still a possibility Mark can be fully turned if someone was willing to risk it.
His wealth would be of great value to some that would be up to the risk.”

“I’m starting to think that the Enclave is
very two faced.” This is more complicated than I thought. Good thing I asked
for a large retainer, not that I could bill Sarah for conversations with Lucan
about vampire dealings. The guys in accounting would think I was nuts when they
processed that billing entry.

“Aye, love, there is a lot more of my world
that you don’t know about, that you shouldn’t know about. Unfortunately, I’m
sure I will be forced to tell you about it for your own safety one day.” Lucan’s
eyes glow almost violet as the redness seeps into his blue.  

“So tell me about this Mr. Hicks,” I ask. No
harm in knowing about your competition.

“Virgil Hicks,” Lucan huffs. “Virgil Hicks
came to New York about twenty years ago from New Orleans. New Orleans is sort
of the unofficial vampire capital of the New World.” Lucan pauses. 

I know I have a funny look on my face, but
several things about that sentence strike me as funny. First, New Orleans is
the setting for more than one vampire story but I would never had guessed there
was some truth to all that. Then again, last week I wouldn’t have guessed there
were really vampires in the world either. Second, the way Lucan says New World
makes me realize our, um, age difference. I wonder how long it’s been since
anyone outside of a world history class used the term New World when speaking
of America?

“Sorry,” I say. “Continue. You can keep
talking over my inner monologue; I can still listen to you at the same time.
Mark of a lawyer, we listen and think all at once.”

“No doubt,” he chuckles. “But I can’t really
tune you out. It’s like your voice drowns out my own thoughts.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Anyways, New Orleans is our capital. Mr.
Hicks became involved with vampires there in the early part of his career. He found
it lucrative and daring. Mostly real estate deals and off shore oil brokering.
I’m not sure why he came to New York, maybe after the real estate and oil
markets crashed it wasn’t lucrative anymore, but he showed up here and opened a
practice in Queens. He works mainly with humans now but he will work for
vampires and the Enclave when asked.”

“Is there a distinction to be drawn between
vampires and the Enclave?” I ask.

“Sometimes. The Enclave is a voluntary
organization that most of us belong to, a sort of lobbying group for the area. But
it’s not required and some vampires can’t, or don’t want to, abide by the rules.”
Lucan’s tone suggests that he is apprehensive of the fact that he is divulging
vampire secrets to a human. 

“So Mr. Hicks works for both those in and
out of the Enclave?”

“Aye, that is the rumor. We have been trying
to catch him at it for a while now. There are those of us that do not trust him
and would prefer his services not be used for Enclave business.”

“Well, why use him at all? You’ve been to
law school and I’m sure you’re not the only one around the Enclave that has.”

“Old habits die hard, I suppose. Some of
those in power in the Enclave came to us from New Orleans and are fond of Mr.
Hicks—although I don’t know how or why. He’s the kind of man that doesn’t take
sides, so long as both sides are paying him.”

“But why would he get involved with Mark
Ainsworth? It’s not like Mark is in power. He’s not even fully vampire. Hell,
does the Enclave even know he exists? You didn’t until he came here.”

“It has been suspected that a Halfling was
created by someone but now we have confirmation after Mark’s little visit to
you. As for why Mr. Hicks would bother with Mark, the answer is simple. Money. How
Mark got in contact with Mr. Hicks I’m not sure, but rest assured it was no
accident.”

“This should be fun. I hope he enters his
appearance soon. Mr. Hicks is mortal right?” All I need on my first major case is
a vampire opposing counsel. 

Lucan eyes flame as he looks out the window
and he is running his tongue over his extended fangs again. I want to see them again
and the thought makes me flush.

“Fun, Abri? Do you know how dangerous this
could be for you? For Sarah? Mr. Hicks is mortal but it’s only skin deep, if
you know what I mean. And we don’t know who has connected him with Mark.”

 “True,” I sooth as I walk cautiously across
the room to Lucan. His brooding eyes area warning not to get too close. This
sudden protective flair makes me realize he is dangerous too. “But that’s what
you’re for. There is a clause in my contract that allows me to hire special
outside counsel on cases where I might need some expertise. The partners will
be watching me closely on this case. It’s my first large retainer matter. I’m
sure I can pitch it to them that you’re an expert on something relevant to the
case and a lawyer. Your bar license is current, right?”

Lucan’s eyes turn blue again and he grabs me
by the shoulders. I try to ignore the amps vibrating through me. “That’s the
best idea you’ve had all day!” I am unaware I’ve had any other ideas today, but
okay. “My license is current. In fact, if anyone were to look they’d realize my
license number is twenty seven, but no one ever looks.”

“Holy hell, Lucan, twenty seven. As in you
were the twenty-seventh person so receive a law license in this state?” He
shrugs. “Wow. Okay, enough business talk for now. We can talk strategy later. I
mean Virgil Hicks hasn’t even filed his appearance yet. Now, take my picture, I
want proof I was here.”

Lucan takes the camera, spins me around so
my back is to the windows and snaps a picture of us together. “I thought
vampires didn’t show up in pictures,” I say reaching for the camera to check
the display. “At least that is what they say in the movies, right?” Lucan holds
the camera out of my reach.