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The man spoke with an accent I couldn’t decipher. His features were dark—maybe Pacific Islander?
“Do I know you?” I paused before I exited the lobby onto the sidewalk.
“My son. He needs your help.”
Lightbulbs went off. I’d managed to avoid this man for how many days as he’d sat in my office. I had to give him points for persistence for waiting outside the building, especially on a Sunday.
“I’m not taking on new clients right now,” I said diplomatically.
He tugged on the sleeve of my sweater. “Please. He didn’t do what they’ve accused him of. You can help him.”
I’d heard the mothers and fathers of many a client say the same thing. They were usually right I could help, but most of the time, their children had done exactly what they were on trial for.
“They could give him the death penalty.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t help you.”
“My boy didn’t hurt that girl. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Tears pooled in his dark eyes.
I felt that familiar pull, the whole reason I’d gone down this path to begin with. But I was done defending the guilty. I had enough work with those women from Paths of Purpose to keep me busy for a year. Everything from mental abuse to violent crimes. Divorce cases.
“Let me think who to refer you. Call my assistant on Monday for the name.”
“No.” He’d gone from desperate to forceful in a nanosecond. “It has to be you.”
“I can’t help you. Please don’t return to my office.”
The man was stillon my mind as I entered Dino’s. My mood took a nosedive as I approached the table, minus two faces. So much for thinking I didn’t want to see them.
“We were beginning to think you weren’t going to make it.” Mr. Dixon stood, followed by Holt and Andrew.
“Seems like I’ve heard that before.” I shook and fist-bumped with all of them. “Ladies.” I made the rounds, kissing the cheeks of Mrs. Quinn, Baker, and Trish.
I dropped into the seat next to Baker and reached for the communal bottle of wine.
“You been working today?” Andrew raised his glass to me.
“Always.” I touched my goblet to Baker’s. “When’s the big day?”
“Thursday.”
I sprayed wine on the table. “Thursday?”
“Are you gonna tell us it’s too soon like somebody else?” Holt peeled the label on his beer.
“No. But you gotta give a guy a little notice. I can’t come if I don’t know when it is.” I grabbed a garlic knot. “Oh shit. You don’t want me there.”
Baker placed a hand over mine. “We just found out the church has an open spot on Thursday.”
“Church? I might disintegrate if I go in one of those.”
She slapped my hand. “Six thirty. Don’t be late.”
“Can I bring a date?”
“We don’t want some random woman at our wedding,” Holt said.
“Are you dating someone?” Trish asked hopefully. Why did she want that for me?
