Beach Town (41 page)

“Sawyer?” Greer clutched Vanessa's arm. “Did you say Sawyer?”

“Yes. He's the lawyer I hired to get this casino thing settled. It was Bryce's idea. He knew Eb was never going to give us that permit.…”

Greer felt the blood drain from her face. “Not Sawyer Pratt, right? Not my Sawyer.”

“Your Sawyer?” Vanessa frowned. “You know him?” She studied Greer's panic-stricken face. “Oh-h-h. That's right. You did tell me you'd had a relationship with an attorney. And his name was Sawyer. Oh my God. I'm just now putting it together. I bet it is the same guy. I mean, how many attorneys from L.A. are named Sawyer Pratt? Right?”

Greer couldn't trust herself to speak. When was the last time she'd seen him?

Was it the morning she'd arrived home two days early from a location shoot in Colorado and interrupted Sawyer and his shrink sharing a tofu scramble in the kitchen of his Hancock Park apartment at 9:00 a.m. on a Saturday? She could still remember the sight of Erica—the redheaded shrink—sitting at the kitchen table dressed in Greer's striped bathrobe.

Since then, she'd encountered Sawyer a few times at industry events, across the room at parties and screenings. Once he'd even been ahead of her in line at the movie theater at the Grove. With another woman, who definitely wasn't Erica. As soon as she'd spotted him, Greer had slunk quietly out of the theater lobby. Somehow, she'd always managed to avoid having to speak to her ex. Until now.

“You two are on friendly terms, right?” Vanessa asked breezily. “I mean, it's all very civil, right?”

“Right,” Greer said weakly.

Civil? No. The end had been anything but civil. Bitter tears, angry accusations.

Somehow, Sawyer had made it her fault that she worked long hours and neglected his needs. Somehow, she was to blame for his needs being met by another woman. He had called her needy, selfish, childish, na
ï
ve, and suffocating. Greer had called him a low-life, scum-sucking whoredog. And then she'd burned every single item he'd ever given her and mailed him a box containing the ashes of their relationship. It was probably safe to say she was not on friendly terms with Sawyer Pratt.

*   *   *

“Here's Greer,” Vanessa announced. The four men were seated at one end of the long mahogany dining table. File folders and documents were scattered across the polished tabletop. All four heads turned as she entered the room, but only Eb Thibadeaux stood.

“Sorry to be so late,” Greer murmured. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Complications on the set.”

Bryce gave her a curt nod, then turned back to the document he was reading.

Sawyer sat back in his chair, his hands resting loosely on the arms. His dark eyes sparkled with barely disguised amusement.

“Hello, you,” he said. Now he stood and brushed his cool lips against her cheek. “Good to see you again,” he murmured in her ear. “It's been too long.”

He smelled expensive, like the inside of a new Jaguar. His coal black hair, shot through with silver, curled against the collar of his jacket. His chin had a trendy line of dark stubble, and he wore dark denim designer jeans, an olive green silk shirt, and a slubby linen sport coat.

Bryce looked up. “You two know each other?”

“Old, dear friends,” Sawyer said smoothly.

“A long time ago,” Greer added, disengaging from Sawyer's embrace. She took a seat at the table. “Where are we?”

On cue, Sawyer slid a piece of paper across the table toward her. “I was just reminding the mayor here that the city's lease of the Cypress Key Casino is terminated, because the city hasn't used the property for its stated use in three years. If he reads the lease agreement, he'll see that it specifically states that the lessor's rights are terminated if the building goes dark.”

Greer pretended to study the lease, sneaking a sideways glance at Eb, whose jaw was firmly clenched. He took off his glasses, polished a lens with his shirt sleeve, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Sawyer handed another set of documents around the table. “Mr. Mayor, this is a copy of your city ordinances governing the issuance of building and/or demolition permits. I'll save us all time here by pointing out that there is absolutely nothing in these ordinances that would give you cause to deny the demolition permit Ms. Littrell and Beach Town Productions have applied for.”

Eb shook his head. “That's your interpretation of the ordinances, Mr. Pratt. As city engineer, and as the mayor of Cypress Key, I can tell you that I find plenty of exceptions that would justify denial of this application.”

“Name one,” Vanessa cried.

“Public safety interests,” Eb shot back. He tapped the demo application with a pencil. “There's nothing in this application that gives me any assurances that the firm hired by the production company can guarantee the proposed demolition will be done in a safe manner.”

“Certainly there is,” Sawyer said. “You're being deliberately obstructionist. You know it, and everybody at this table knows it.”

“Let's get this over with,” Bryce said, tossing a sheaf of papers onto the tabletop. “We've danced around long enough. I've got a film to make.”

Sawyer shot Bryce a look and a barely perceptible shake of his head. He reached into a briefcase at his feet and brought out yet another document, which he slid across the table to Eb.

“This is a writ of mandamus, which I'm prepared to file with the circuit court in this county, first thing tomorrow, compelling you to issue a demolition permit without further delay.”

Eb glanced at the document, then shoved it aside. “Fine. File it. Do what you need to do.”

But Sawyer wasn't done. “I understand you're the mayor of Cypress Key?”

“I am.”

“And that's an elected position?”

“Yes.” Eb looked bored.

“But you're also the city engineer? And that's a salaried, appointed position?”

Eb gave Sawyer a hard look. “My salary, as you refer to it, is five hundred dollars a year. And I've never cashed that particular paycheck. What's your point?”

“My point is that it's a conflict of interest for you, as mayor, to also appoint yourself city engineer,” Sawyer said.

“It's fuckin' nuts, is what it is,” Bryce muttered.

Vanessa clamped her hand on top of his, a not-so-subtle warning gesture.

“I didn't appoint myself,” Eb said, leaning forward. “And I don't appreciate your inference that the appointment is somehow shady or unethical.”

Sawyer dug yet another document from his briefcase. “This is a copy of the minutes of the Cypress Key City Commission meeting where you were appointed city engineer two years ago.” He tossed it toward Eb. “Does that look familiar?”

Eb picked up the sheet of paper and scanned the print. “Yes. And if you've read it, you'll see that Rev. Maynard, the mayor pro tem, made the motion to appoint me city engineer, and that I abstained from voting on that item.”

Sawyer smiled. Greer was painfully familiar with that particular facial expression. It was his version of “Gotcha, sucka!” Sawyer was clearly enjoying himself. She wished she could have warned Eb about what would come next, but it wouldn't have done any good.

“Oh, I saw that, all right,” Sawyer said. “And while I was at it, I noticed that you seconded the motion. Pretty cute little joke, huh?”

“We joke around a lot at meetings. It's a small town and a small board of commissioners,” Eb said.

“Seconding the motion to appoint yourself to a salaried city position is a clear conflict of interest, and of the notion of separation of power in that city,” Sawyer said. “Any judge who takes a look at these minutes is going to rule your appointment improper. And every single permit or application you've approved or denied over the past two years is going to be invalidated.”

Eb stared down at the minutes he'd so casually brushed aside moments earlier.

“This is nuts. The city attorney was at that meeting. He's at all our meetings. He didn't say anything.”

“Your city attorney is a joke!” Bryce said.

Sawyer gathered the documents he'd just arranged around the table, packing them into a neat stack.

“Here's my point, Mr. Thibadeaux. I don't want to have to file a writ of mandamus with the circuit court here. I also don't want to have to ask a judge to vacate your appointment as city engineer. Frankly, that's all bush league stuff. It takes up my time, and it's gonna cost the city money to defend those actions, which you're not going to win. You're just not.”

“Give us our demo permit,” Bryce said. “Today. That's all we want. Time is money, and we're running out of both.”

Eb looked from Vanessa, to Bryce, to Sawyer, and then back to Vanessa.

He grabbed the file folder with Greer's completed demolition application, opened it, and scribbled his name at the bottom of one of the forms. Then he stood and slapped it down on the table in front of Vanessa.

“Here's your permit. You always get what you want, don't you, Vanessa? Doesn't matter who it hurts or what it costs, you'll do whatever it takes.”

“I did warn you, Eb,” Vanessa said. “This is a business decision. There's no need to take it personally.”

Eb's eyes met Greer's. She blushed and looked away.

“Don't take it personally? I've been told that before,” Eb said. “But I've found that whenever people say that, what they actually mean is, ‘I won. You lost. Get over it. Don't hold me personally responsible for whatever selfish, destructive actions I've rammed down your throat.'”

“You're impossible,” Vanessa said, her voice cold.

“So I've been told.”

Sawyer stood now, too, and extended a hand to Eb. “Thanks for coming today. Sorry about the way things worked out, but I think, in the end, you'll see this will all be to your advantage. Great meeting you.”

Eb ignored the gesture. “Fuck you, too.”

 

48

“Fantastic!” Bryce reached across the table and high-fived Vanessa.

“Excuse me,” Greer said. She hurried out of the house and caught up with Eb as he was getting into his truck.

“What? You want to shake my hand, too, and tell me it's nothing personal?” he asked.

“You know this is not how I wanted things to go,” Greer said. “I had no idea you'd be sandbagged like that.”

“Whose idea was it to fly in your old boyfriend? That
was
Sawyer the lawyer, right?”

Greer took a step backwards. She felt as though she'd been slapped in the face. “You can't really believe I had anything to do with that. I haven't talked to him in over two years. I feel just as ambushed as you do.”

“No, you don't.” Eb climbed onto the front seat and stuck the key in the ignition. “Maybe it was a little awkward for you, running into him this way, but you'll get over that. You don't have any real skin in this game. You never do, right? Like you keep telling me, it's your job.”

“That is totally unfair,” Greer said. “But I guess I should have expected it. You really want to believe the worst of people, don't you? Because then you can go on feeling morally superior to everybody around you.” She pushed his door closed and turned and went back toward the house.

She heard soft laughter and the clink of ice and glasses as she stood in the hallway of Vanessa's house. They were drinking, celebrating their rout of Eb Thibadeaux. But she didn't have the stomach to join in the party.

One of the golden retrievers was sprawled out on an Oriental rug in the entryway, his muzzle resting on his paws. She wasn't sure if this was Luke or Owen. The dog turned and regarded her with mild indifference. She kneeled down on the floor and scratched his long, silky ears.

When she heard footsteps, she looked up. Sawyer stood there, a bemused expression on his face. “If you like dogs so much, why didn't you ever get one?”

“I don't know. I travel so much, it wouldn't be fair to a dog to leave it all the time.”

“You could get a dog sitter.”

“And then what would be the point of me having one, if I'm not going to be the one to take care of it?” She didn't get up, just kept scratching the dog's ears.

“Hey,” he said softly. He extended a hand. She took it and stood.

He reached over and plucked something from the front of her T-shirt and held it up for her to see. It was half of a tomato-smeared pepperoni. “Late lunch?”

So she'd just sat through an entire business meeting with half a pizza hanging off her boob. She felt her face begin to burn. Damn him for having that effect on her, for always making her feel unbalanced and inferior.

“I was sorry to hear about Lise,” he said. “I left you a message on your phone. Did you get it?”

Greer stared down at her red Keds. “Maybe. I don't know. So many people called, and sent cards. The whole experience was surreal. It's a blur to me now.”

“Your mother was a trip,” Sawyer said, grinning. “The world's a duller place without Lise Grant in it.”

“She liked you a lot,” Greer said. “But then, she was always a sucker for a pretty face.”

“Dearie wasn't so hot about me. I never could quite win her over to my side.”

Greer shrugged.

He jerked his head in the direction of the dining room. “Bryce and Vanessa want to take us out to dinner. To celebrate. You coming?”

“Don't you have to get back to L.A.?”

“It's too late to get a flight out today,” Sawyer said. “Come to dinner. Okay?”

“I'm a hot mess,” Greer protested. “I've been up since dawn, and now I'll have to work double time to get everything lined up to shoot the explosion at the casino.”

“One dinner,” he said. “What could it hurt?” He lowered his voice. “We can get a drink together after. Just the two of us. Catch up.”