Page 19 of Confusing Cade
“That kind of day.”
With a curt nod, David slid onto the barstool. Like me, he still had on a dark business suit, and I guessed he’d come to the restaurant straight from the office. “Long fucking day for me too.”
“How so?” I signaled to the bartender, who stood in front of an ordering tablet at the other end. When she indicated she saw us, I took another drink of my liquor.
“This case is chapping my ass. Plaintiff doesn’t want to come to the table.”
David practiced civil law at a firm in downtown West Palm Beach. In fact, that’s how we met. We first connected when his firm represented my interest in a workers’ comp case in Delray Beach. Over the six months he worked on that case, we discovered we had more in common than our high golf handicaps and an affinity for expensive liquor. Our bond grew even stronger when he started working for my company a fewdays a week on an at-large retainer. Soon enough, I considered him one of my closest friends.
Not that I had many.
“We’ll have to strong-arm them,” David added. “Get aggressive.”
The bartender sauntered over, and David ordered a bourbon to match mine. When she returned with it, we shared a quick toast before I decided to get to the heart of why I wanted him to meet me for a drink.
“Speaking of which... how are your contacts down at city hall?” I asked.
David laughed. “Rusty, but decent.”
“Probably not as bad as mine.” I glanced around, thankful for the dull roar of happy hour conversation around us. Sometimes, being in a bustling crowd was more anonymous than being in the corner of a quiet restaurant. And while I recognized a few familiar faces in the room, they weren’t people who had any interest in what I was about to say. “The entire commission came to see me the other day, while you were on that client trip to Dallas.”
David eyed me over the rim of his glass. “They did?”
“Every last one. And while it was a business meeting, they also wanted to fuck with me.” I laughed.
He slackened his jaw. “Did one of them find out about your congressional campaign?”
David’s almost more enthusiastic than I am.A couple backroom meetings and name identification based political polling did not make a congressional run. Still, it was nice to have someone believe so deeply in my plans.
“No,” I replied. “Those assholes want me to invite Bella Moretti to the ribbon cutting.”
“Bella Moretti? Now, that’s a name I haven’t thought of in a long time.”
Nodding, I gave my friend a quick rundown of what I knew, leaving out the part about her forays into online fame on FanZone. David was a sharp, focused guy who had a mind as secure as a bank safe. He never missed details.
“I feel a little sorry for her,” he admitted.
“Me too.” I winced. Yes, I’d been an asshole during our meeting, but I couldn’t help myself. It was just... I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t supposed to feel bad for the Morettis, so why did I feel bad for her? I straightened my back. “But notthatsorry.”
“You’ve never hidden how much you hated her dad.” David shrugged, and I was glad he seemed to be buying my obvious bluff. “But she’s also not him.”
“So what?”
“Letting her be part of the ribbon cutting isn’t the worst idea in the world.”
I scoffed.
“We’re talking about, what? A couple hours?”
I nodded and finished the rest of my bourbon, the peppery liquid stinging my tongue and racing down my throat. “I still don’t want to do it.”
“If it keeps the city commission happy, I think it’s worth it,” David said. “And some positive PR for you is always a good thing.”
“That’s true.”
I mulled that over for a moment. I’d never been one to do things for the sake of public relations, but some good press wouldn’t hurt, especially considering my plan to run for Congress during the next election cycle. But if Iweregoing to launch a campaign, I’d need goodwill. Publicity. And eventually, endorsements.
I’ll need a bunch of those.
