Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (31 page)

I cautioned her not to read too much into this. Claire wasn’t anything like the girls I typically hung around. Momma, I was sure suspected, my lack of decorum when it came to getting what I wanted. For a town this size, news had a way of traveling fast. One date did not secure a future, no matter how much it might be wanted.

“So, I’m pretty sure she’s calling everyone on her contact list to announce her eldest is seeing someone.” Austin and his cheeky, motherfucking face, tipped back in his chair. I kicked it, attempting to tip him back farther, and send him off balance.

“I’m sure your name is in the mix as well, seeing which of her friends has a niece or somethin’ to set you up with.”

Austin’s face dropped, his feet hitting the floor in aggravation. His emotions were still raw, his wounds not healed from walking in on his ex banging her neighbor. “Sorry, man.” He waved me off as he typed feverously on his keyboard.

“I’m where I need to be, no worries of running into that bitch.”

Austin had purchased an apartment on Park Avenue, remodeled it and moved his girl in with him. He left for work one day, but returned home when he remembered he left his security badge on the bar. When he opened the door, she and his neighbor were going at it on the coffee table. He called me, not certain how he could get her out of his house. I had a buddy who I’d met at a conference in Dallas a few years past, who sent over a squad car to escort her off the premises. The guy she was fucking, let her move in with him, meaning Austin had to see her walking around the hall and elevator.

“Hey, Momma won’t push if you’re worried about it.”

He shook his head as he continued to type away at his keys.

My cell sounded from my pocket, looking at the screen I saw Carson’s name across the top. “What’s up, old man, can’t find a donut shop by yourself?” Carson and I had talked in depth about his frustrations with the department; mirroring mine.

“Hey.” His voice sounding somber. I knew something was wrong instantly.

“What’s wrong? Is Claire all right?” Thank God momma had left; she would have been planning the weddin’ already.

“Greyson was released about twenty minutes ago.” I felt as if I had been punched in the gut, his news hit me hard. “He was picked up by an unnamed female in a red convertible, which was reported stolen three days ago from Charlotte, North Carolina. We located the car over by University Hospital, stripped clean with not a single fingerprint inside.

“Hold on, Carson.” I placed my phone on speaker. “I’m here with Austin, might as well include him on this piece of shit since he’ll no doubt have dealings with him.” Setting my phone of the desk, Austin’s heartbreak placed on the back burner as his interest was piqued from criminal activity.

“The douche was arrested under the name Frances Cashmere Greyson, been arrested fifteen different times in the past twenty six months.” Austin had the most recent mug shot of Greyson on the large screen in the corner of the room, a detailed list of crimes under his photo.

“He is to report to his parole officer within the next twenty-four hours. I’ve already contacted him and asked to be notified if he fails to do so.”

When they hauled Greyson off to jail after the trial, I called Carson and told him I wanted to know the second he was released. My testimony might not have gotten him the sentence he deserved, but my connections would keep Lainie and Claire safe.

The morning after Greyson was returned to jail, after his visit to the ER and awaiting his transport to the courthouse, a few of his fellow inmates had heard all about Claire talking down to him. Being teased like a bitch in jail would affect his street creds. If I knew this fucker like I thought, he might try to do something to Claire or Lainie.

“That’s odd,” Austin commented, jerking his head back while continuing to press keys and look at his screens.

“What? What’s odd?” Carson and I both spoke simultaneously.

“Well, if this record is correct, his criminal history is limited to the last five years.”

I was still confused as to what he was getting at. “Yeah, so?”

“Dylan, how many criminals wake up one morning and say, what the hell, I’m gonna sell crack today?” He pointed at the large screen to further emphasize his point. “See, five years ago he suddenly has ‘an intent to distribute charge.’ No priors, no speeding tickets, nothing.” Austin pointed to the screen, disbelief on his face.

“Okay, Austin, follow the rabbit hole, see where this guy is hiding.”

“Hey, Austin?” Carson’s voice rang out. “If I send you a very grainy picture of the female he was with, can you find her?”

Doing things right with Claire was incredibly important to me. So I intentionally invited Austin to stay at my house, knowing I would never disrespect Claire by trying to fuck her while my brother slept in the next room.

When I thought about where I wanted to take her for dinner, a tiny part of me wanted to stop by McGuire’s to let Notre Dame see what he had lost, also to let Megan know what kind of slime ball she was about to marry.

But the angel on my right shoulder smacked me upside my head and reminded me to behave.

Claire opened her door, her perfume hitting me in the face, a fresh smell of exotic flowers with an undertow of vanilla. Standing before me, jeans tucked into calf high boots, white button up shirt with a wide belt secured around the center of her waist. She was classic and casual; ready for any adventure I could take her on.

“Miss Claire, it a good thing I have my Glock on me, I may have to shoot some roamin’ eyes.” Her smile was all the assurance I needed to know she didn’t mind my teasing.

“I don’t know about eyes on me, but I may need to borrow it to scare off some attention of the female variety from you.”

I wasn’t certain how much of historic Charleston Claire had been able to enjoy. So I’d taken a page from my dad’s playbook and arranged to have a carriage waiting for us. After parking the car in a covered garage, I took her hand and interlaced our fingers as I led her to the street below.

As a boy, I recalled when Dad would take Momma out for dinner every week. They would spend time together, walking around downtown or catching a movie. But her favorite thing to do, was to hire a private carriage, ride along the Battery, and image owning one of the homes, which sat on the edge of the water. Now don’t get me wrong, Daddy could have bought her any one of those houses, but she wouldn’t let him. She knew those houses had survived too much to pay several millions for them.

I knew I had chosen well when Claire’s eyes went wide and her smile was almost too big for her cheeks. “Is this just for us?” Her hands clapped in front of her, excitement bubbling in her voice.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered as I extended my arm toward the carriage. I grasped her hand as she climbed in, greeted the driver and let him know she was pleased to meet him. Thankfully, he was an older gentleman, so I allowed his flirtation to be part of his charm.

There wasn’t an inch of this path we were taking that I hadn’t seen before. Yet watching Claire point at the buildings and ask the driver questions, had given me a new perspective. She was inquisitive about the people who once lived here, the clothes they wore, and the things they enjoyed. When the driver told of the legends of the Pineapples, her brow furrowed and she remained silent.

Her silence didn’t last long, but it was enough to make me want to know the story behind it, watching her expressions go from bliss and awe, to sorrowful.

“You know, when I was a kid, Momma would bring us down here every spring and summer, just to see the city come to life. One of the things we always did while we were here was buy her a rose made out of grass.”

Our driver had pulled off to the side of the road, with a backdrop of one of the older churches behind her. I motioned for the driver to hand me the item he was keeping out of Claire’s eyesight.

“When I decided I was ready to start a relationship with a lady…you, specifically, I came across a couple of young men who were selling these.” I took the grass roses from his hand. I had stopped by the florist my family has used for years. Miss Bonnie took the two dozen grass roses and made a bouquet of complementing flowers to go with them.

She’d tied the entire thing up with something she called raffia; it looked like straw to me, but it did make it pretty. Claire took one look at it and the same look my momma had each time my dad handed her a gift, graced her face.

“Thank you.” Her voice cracked, and for the first time in my life, I finally understood what all the fuss was about. Making a girl happy, while still having her clothes on, was the best feeling ever.

I pulled back to the parking garage, the ride along the water having gone better than I could have ever hope for. Claire thanked the driver as he offered to take her flowers back to the store, where she could pick them up later. She declined and said she would rather run them up to my car.

I handed him a crisp hundred dollar bill as a tip, concealing the money from Claire’s sight.

“Ladies shouldn’t worry about money, it gives them wrinkles. Make sure they think the world is their oyster.”

Even with the modern times of credit cards and electronic money transfers, my momma still signed her name to any accounts my dad created for her in all the stores she frequented. He would even have his secretary call her hair salon to pay the balance while she got her hair styled.

Claire placed her flowers on the front seat with the same care a momma would place a newborn baby. She thanked me several more times as we walked the five blocks to the restaurant I’d planned to take her to for dinner. This time, Claire grabbed my hand as we strolled along the busy sidewalk.

Charleston Crab House sat on the corner of Market Street, ironically directly across the street from
the
Market where her roses came from. Momma agreed I couldn’t go wrong with taking her there for our first date. It was casual, yet modern. The food was out of this world, with seafood caught fresh daily.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to eat here.” Claire beamed as I stopped at the hostess booth, which was just outside the door. Given the time of year and the hour at which we were eating, we could have had to wait upwards to an hour. However, Dad made a call and saved us a table on the veranda.

Our young hostess advised us to watch our step as we began to climb the dark stairs, which led to the rooftop dining. Claire paced herself as she took each step carefully. The lighting along the stairway was quite poor, so I placed my arm around her to give her more stability.

I loved this particular rooftop; it was set with metal chairs and cafe lighting. The ledge was high enough you could hear the sounds from the street, but could only see the stars and lights from adjoining buildings.

I pulled out Claire’s chair, as I would for Nana and Momma. Tall wine glasses and silverware waited for us on our table. Claire took a long look around at the lights, which wrapped around the entire area.

“It’s so pretty.” She beamed, flashing me the happy smile she managed to find after I gave her the flowers.

“I’m partial to the view, as well.” I looked directly at her, but her wonderment caused her to completely miss the compliment, which was directed at her and not the lights and stars.

“Good evening, my name is Clayton, and I will be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a beverage?”

Clayton was not from around here. His accent suggested something much farther north, where snow and polar bears lived.

“Well, hello, Mr. Clayton. May I please have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a glass of water?”

Clayton hadn’t had enough time in the South to become immune to the dialect displayed by the beautiful women we had in abundance. With their perfect white teeth, polished manners, and ability to charm most anything they wanted for us. Or maybe, that was just Claire.

Poor Clayton never stood a chance as he fumbled to ask her to repeat what she wanted three times. Finally, as my last nerve was being jumped up and down on, I placed my hand over Claire’s; clarifying for him she was with me and what she wanted to drink.

“I wish it was later in the year,” she admitted. “I would’ve loved to have some raw oysters.” Her voice sounded longing. It was barely June, a far cry from the months safe to eat the legendary aphrodisiac.

“Well, as soon as September gets here we’ll have to have a low country boil and have some.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about them, but never attended one.” She was giving me so many opportunities to spoil the shit out of her. My heart was singing in my chest as the thoughts whirled around.

“My parents have at least one every fall. They invite the entire firm out to their house. Dad has these huge vats he uses to cook what seems like every ounce of shrimp on the coast.” I laughed, but it was the truth. Dad’s firm employed close to a thousand people statewide. He knew every one of his employees by name and could tell you at least one thing about them.

“Wow, sounds like a lot of work,” she commented as Clayton set her drinks beside her.

“Momma has a lot of help, plans it for a few months.” I took a drink of my beer, nodding my head as I spoke. Clayton took our supper order, doing a much better job of listening this time. “Oh, and Clayton, please bring out an order of the house hushpuppies.”