Some Came Desperate: A Love Saga (7 page)

“Are you Mr. Perry?” she quickly asked him, not bothering to look in Mark’s direction.

There was a hesitation by the man Simone was addressing, a hesitation that didn’t help her nerves at all.  “I am,” he finally replied.

“And you’re an attorney?”

Mark rolled his eyes.  “I am,” Nick replied, giving Simone an almost dismissive look-over, a ploy he often used at trial to make a hostile witness uncomfortable.  But unlike at trial, he found himself unable to so quickly dismiss this woman, particularly her well-endowed chest that only highlighted the shapeliness of her small, tight body.

Simone paused before continuing, his roaming eyes unnerving her still.  “Can you answer a question for me, then?”

“Depends on the question.”

“What good is a high-powered lawyer,” she asked, “when he won’t even help poor people  like me?”

Nick smiled.  A half-cocked, roguish, beautiful gleaming white smile, Simone noted. 

Mark, however, frowned.  “What is with you?” he asked.  “I told you why we weren’t taking your case, lady, I—”  

“I’m talking to Mr. Perry,” Simone interrupted without giving Mark a second look.  Nick Perry was her last hope, her only hope now, and she wasn’t about to let Mark Grier or anybody else stand in her way. 

Nick, however, didn’t respond to her question.  He was too amazed by her spunkiness to do anything but appear mildly amused.  A reaction that Simone took as a personal affront to her.

“This isn’t a joke, Mr. Perry,” she said.  “My baby sister may be in danger and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Nick’s amusement quickly turned into a look of concern.  “In danger?”        

“Yes,” Simone said.

“No,” Mark said.  “No, sir.  That girl isn’t in any danger and she knows it.  That baby sister of hers is in foster care in Georgia and is undoubtedly doing just fine.”

“You don’t know how she’s doing,” Simone finally addressed Mark directly.  Then she looked back at Nick.  “That’s the problem, Mr. Perry.  Nobody knows how she’s doing.  She’s been in Georgia’s state custody since she was seven years old.  After our mother died.  They won’t even let me visit her or anything and I’ve been trying for four years now.  She could be dead for all I know!”

Mark laughed at Simone’s hyperbole but Nick’s expression remained unchanged.  He stared at Simone as she stood before him in her blazer and backpack, her long, wavy hair curving inward around her small, thin face, her light green eyes the most striking orbs he’d ever seen.  She was so pretty, he thought, but also so very desperate, and so anxious and anguished that just looking at her made him feel heavy-laden.  She was a mess.  He could see it in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

“Sharon,” Mark said.

“Simone, not Sharon,” Simone corrected Mark.

“Have you had dinner, Simone not Sharon?” Nick asked her.

Mark smiled.  Simone looked flustered.  “Sir?” she asked.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked again, and again Simone, surprised by the question, couldn’t quite get her mouth to function.  

“You heard Mr. Perry,” Mark said, more than happy to pounce.  “Have you eaten yet, girl?”

“What does my eating have to do with this?” Simone finally responded, Mark’s abrasiveness quickly bringing back hers.  “I need to know if he’s gonna take my case, that’s all I need to know.”

“I haven’t eaten,” Nick said, far calmer than both Mark and Simone, “and as you can clearly see, I enjoy a good meal.  Mr. Grier and I were headed to dinner.  You come too.”  Nick said this and began walking away, his expensive shoes clanging loud against the parquet floor.  Mark glared at Simone, making it clear to her that he certainly didn’t approve of the invite, and then hurried behind his boss.  Simone, however, hesitated.  She’d do whatever it took to try and get Shay back into her life, but she wasn’t so far gone that getting into a car with two strange men, she didn’t care how respectable they were supposed to be, was an easy decision for her to make. 

Besides, that Nick Perry had just stared her down, from the top of her head to her small feet, and he lingered when he got to her chest area.  He had, in fact, stared so intently at her that her heart started palpitating.  It was a reaction she’d never had to anyone before in her life, and it disturbed her.  Who was this man, she wondered, that could just look at her and throw her so off guard?  Yet when that same man got to the double doors of the exit and turned and looked back at her, looking weary and impatient as if he was giving her this one last chance to make her case, take it or leave it, she took it.  This wasn’t about her.  But Shay.  And with Shay in mind she girted up her backpack, waved goodbye to Anna in case something did happen to her, and ran to follow him.

SIX

The Trailwinds restaurant was loud and ruckus inside, with a sports bar kind of festive atmosphere, and the line of patrons waiting to be seated was a long one.  But as soon as Nick Perry entered, with Mark and Simone behind him, the maitre d, despite the line, despite the fact that Nick had admitted to him that he had forgotten to make a reservation, couldn’t seat him fast enough.  Simone felt odd, jumping in front of all of those people who’d been apparently waiting patiently for quite some time, but it didn’t seem to faze Nick at all.  He was accustomed to special treatment.  He was accustomed to disregarding the rightful order and bullying his way ahead.  Since Simone was usually among the ones being bullied, she wasn’t pleased about it one bit.

       But she didn’t exactly complain about it, either.  She was no fool - what was her complaining going to change?  Nick Perry would suddenly give up his privileged life and join the ranks of the average Joes - even though the average Joes didn’t want to be average either?  Besides, she wasn’t there to point out the mammoth unfairness of social injustice, but for one reason and one reason only: to see if this supposedly great attorney could live up to his reputation and win a case even his associate said was unwinnable.  And that was why, as soon as they were seated and had ordered drinks, she wasted no time in making her pitch.

       To her dismay, however, Nick didn’t say a word, but allowed Mark Grier to handle all of the questioning.  Nick, instead, lit a cigarette, leaned back, and kept his eyes on Simone.  A few times she tried to look at him while responding to Mark, hoping to engage him, too, but his stare was so intense, so compatible with making hasty judgments about her rather than attempting to understand her plight, that she quickly looked away.  He didn’t understand, she concluded.

       She didn’t understand, Nick concluded, as he watched her, as he saw an anxiousness in her that made her appear too desperate for any good lawyer to touch with a ten-foot pole.  And she was a big talker, too, one who didn’t seem to know any speed but fast.  He looked at that fast-moving mouth of hers, a small, cute mouth with thin lips that upturned at the tips, but her voice was just too loud and forceful.  She was a fighter, a woman who wanted her baby sister back bad, and Nick wondered why.  What was the story behind that story?  Guilt?  Shame?  She’d never tell.  He’d already figured that out.  She was too proud, too hot-headed to ever reveal any vulnerability.  Yet that was all Nick saw when he looked at her.  Vulnerability.  A feisty, determined young lady in so much pain that he almost could feel it himself. 

       He could also tell, by the way she kept shifting her little body around on her seat, that she viewed Mark’s reasonableness as nothing more than unnecessary verbiage in the way of what she just knew was a doable plan.  He stared at her beautiful green eyes, eyes that were so intense, eyes that seemed so uncompromisingly determined that he began to wonder if she was going to be all right.  She had no balance, it seemed to him, one of those do or die females who often ended up bitter with life itself because they couldn’t get it done.  With every response Mark had, responses that totally shot down all of her weak-at-best arguments, she posed new arguments that were even weaker.  She was a handful, Nick thought, a woman who refused to see the obvious.  A woman who was getting louder the more outlandish her arguments became.  So loud, in fact, that even Nick felt compelled to slow her down.

       “Lower the volume, Simone,” he said as he flicked ash off of his cigarette.

       “I can’t help it, Mr. Perry.  Do you hear him?  He’s making me so angry!”

       “Because he disagrees with you?”

       “Because he’s just like everybody else.  They don’t know a thing about me but always want to judge me.  I’ll be a great guardian to my sister, I know I will.  But they won’t even let me try.  I know I’m not the most perfect person in this world.  I know I’ve got a record—”

       “A record?” Mark said as if he was on to something, and even Nick’s interest was piqued.

       “It’s nothing,” Simone said quickly, and then screwed up her face, upset with herself for even bringing it up.  She looked at Nick, who appeared, to her dismay, disturbed by the revelation.

       “You’ve been in prison, haven’t you?” Mark asked, anxious to pounce on this point, and Simone rolled her eyes.

       “I told you it was nothing,” she said.

       “Let us be the judge of that,” Nick said and Simone’s heart dropped.  She’d lost him.  Just on that one blunder alone she’d managed to turn him against her, too.  She was tired of fighting, tired of having to defend herself or her concern for her sister every time she turned around.  But what could she do?  She needed his help.

       “It was a long time ago, Mr. Perry,” she said with a plea in her voice.  “I was just a kid myself—”

       “You’re still a kid,” Mark said.

       Simone ignored him.  “I was just a kid and it was nothing.  I just want my sister back, that’s all, and I need you to help me.”

       Nick again tapped the ash off of his cigarette.  Then he looked at her.  “You were a kid?”

       “Yes!  I wasn’t even myself then.  I just–”

       “How old?”

       “How old what?”

       “How old were you when you went to prison,” Mark nastily interjected.  Simone ignored him and looked at Nick. 

       “Are you going to take my case or not?” she asked.

       “How old were you?” Nick asked again, his eyes piercing into hers, brooking no debate.

     Simone exhaled.  He wasn’t about to back off, she could see it in those eyes.  “Sixteen,” she said.

       “How old are you now?”

     Simone frowned.  “What difference does that make?”  When he didn’t respond, she sighed.  “Twenty-two.”

       “What happened?”

       “What?”

       “When you were sixteen, what happened?”

       “Nothing happened.”

       Nick puffed slowly on his cigarette as he stared at Simone.  It was nothing all right, he thought.  Was probably the most defining moment of her young life.  “What happened?” he asked again.

       Simone shook her head.  Why should she even bother, she thought.  He was judging her already.  “I was young and stupid, all right?  And I did something dumb.  That’s what happened.  Now are you going to take my case?”

       Nick took another slow drag on his cigarette but continued staring at her, continued, in her view, sizing her up.  He didn’t mind toughness in a tough lady, he actually admired it, but he did mind arrogance.  And stubbornness.  And little Miss Simone, he concluded, had way too much of both.  “No,” he said firmly, which surprised even Mark.

       “No?” Simone asked, unable to believe that he would decide so quickly.

       “Your case is not winnable, Miss Simone, and I don’t allow any of my attorneys to take on unwinnable cases, I don’t care how noble the cause may be.”

       “Then why did you bring me here?” Simone asked, her voice raised, her anger rising.  “Why would you ask me to come all this way to some restaurant if you weren’t going to take my case?”

       When Nick wouldn’t answer her, not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know himself, she grabbed her backpack and stood to her feet. 

       “Sit down, Simone,” Nick said calmly.

       Simone looked at him as if he had just asked her to stand on her head, and then hurriedly left the restaurant, nearly colliding with one waiter, nearly causing another to lose his tray, as she went.

       Mark laughed.  “I get the feeling we were just in the presence of a category five, my man.”

       Nick, however, grimaced as he took another long drag on his cigarette, unable to forget the disappointment he saw in those big, green eyes of hers, and then snuffed the whole thing out.

They saw her again.  It happened after they’d finished their meals and Nick was driving out of the parking lot to take Mark back to the firm so that Mark could retrieve his car.  She was sitting at the bus stop at an intersection south of the restaurant, staring into the night.

“Uh-oh, there’s the hurricane,” Mark said when the SUV stopped at the intersection’s red light and both he and Nick looked over and saw her sitting there.  Unlike Mark, who was disgusted by the view, Nick’s heartbeat quickened when he saw her.  He pressed down the passenger side window and leaned across Mark.  “Hello again,” he said.

Simone at first looked as if she was looking to see who was this fresh behind man in this flashy truck trying to hit on her, but then she remembered the truck at the same time that she saw Nick’s handsome face.  Her heart fluttered. 

“Waiting on a bus?” he asked her with a smile.  She wanted to warm up to him, especially when he smiled, but her heart knew better.  Every time she thought that somebody might just mean her well, she sadly, often tragically, found out that they didn’t.

That’s why she looked away from him. 

“All right, Simone,” he said with a tinge of impatience.  “Get in.”

“No, thank-you,” Simone replied without looking at him.

               “No?”  Nick said as if he wasn’t at all used to being turned down.  “Look, I’m not asking you again, okay?  The light’s about to change.”

Simone looked at him, perplexed by his insistence.  “I said no thank-you,” she replied, as if he was all kinds of dumb.

Nick stared at her, at the defiance in those haunting green eyes of hers, a defiance that made it clear she wasn’t about to bend.  And it angered him, because he knew she was doomed, because he knew that her rigidity and inability to balance her emotions would someday do her in.  “Simone, I’m not leaving you here.”

Still no response from her.  Not because she was defiant, but because she didn’t know why he’d even care.  Nobody else ever had.

“Simone?” he said again, this time unable to shield at all his impatience.

When she didn’t respond this time, he gave up, which was easy enough to do since the light had turned green and the few cars behind him were just beginning to blow their horns.  He shifted his gear and left Simone, not to mention those horn-blowers, as blurs in his rearview.

But his defiant departure wasn’t with as much pleasure as Simone might have thought.  For by the time he had dropped Mark off, who couldn’t get over how that Simone Rivers could even think about talking to Nick Perry that way, Nick Perry just flat couldn’t get over Simone.  He admired her spunkiness and how feisty she was.  He loved the way she was willing to fight for her kid sister even when that ship had long since sailed.  She was strong and tough and no smooth Joe could ever pull the wool over her eyes.  She was a female who could definitely take care of herself, he thought.

Then why was he worrying sick about her?  Why was he suddenly doing a U-turn in South Miami and heading, not toward his home, but back to that bus stop?  And why was he so hurt when he saw that her bus had apparently already come because she was gone?  He leaned his head back against his headrest as he stared momentarily at that bus stop.  Was he going mad?  She was a kid, that’s all, an arrogant, stubborn kid grappling for straws to get her sister back.  Why would he even want that headache in his life?  And by the time he drove away and was nearing his home, he concluded that he didn’t.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her, not as he drove into the garage of his condominium, not as he caught the elevator up to his floor.  Maybe it was the way she looked at him at that bus stop, he thought, as if he was a great disappointment to her, as if she thought he was somehow different from all the rest only to discover that he was worse of all.  And later that night, as he lay quietly in bed, he was still thinking about her, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. Until he had to hurry out of bed to answer his ringing bell.