I pulled out the file I needed, shifting back to the desk.
“Are we still on for tomorrow night?” I asked.
She was coming up to Buck’s for enchiladas and to meet Gear and Tatiana, who acted like she’d rather have open heart surgery without anesthetic than meet Mrs. Jimenez, which I hoped wouldn’t make dinner interesting.
In other words, torture for Mrs. Jimenez and for me.
“Sí, I can’t wait to meet tu novio. A man who cooks…aiy. Looking forward to that, querida.”
I sat down at the desk.
“He doesn’t cook, Mrs. Jimenez, he cooks. He makes hamburgers taste gourmet. Not kidding. When I first bit into his burger, my toes curled, and I almost passed out with delight. He’s so good, he could open a restaurant.”
I was telling her this as the door opened, and my head came up to smile at whoever walked in, Aces member, delivery man or employee.
But the second my eyes hit the tall, suited man walking through the door, the smile on my face froze as did the rest of my body.
Except my heart.
As with every time I saw that man, my heart squeezed, and it did this painfully.
I stayed frozen until I heard Mrs. Jimenez call, “Clarita? Are you there?”
“I…” I swallowed and closed my eyes tight.
I opened them, and unfortunately, the fevered wish I sent to the universe when I closed my eyes went unanswered.
He was still there.
What now, and maybe more importantly, why me?
“I have to go, Mrs. Jimenez, someone just walked into the office. I need to deal with it.”
“Por supuesto,” Mrs. Jimenez replied, sounding happy, and she sounded happy because she was happy for me.
She worried about Tia.
But me with Buck, Buck’s home and the job Buck gave me, she no longer had to worry about me.
And this made her happy.
So my Mexican American Grandma.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she finished.
“Thanks, yes, tomorrow. Take care, honey.”
“Hasta mañana, cariña.”
I put the phone in the receiver.
“How did you find me?” I asked Nolan Armitage, Rogan’s slimy, arrogant attorney.
Rogan’s slimy, arrogant attorney who tried to block my divorce because, firstly, he asserted it would hurt Rogan’s defense, me defecting, and secondly, if I was legally untied from Rogan, Nolan couldn’t come after me to pay Rogan’s bills when Rogan ran out of money.
Therefore, he made the process of the divorce longer, more painful and a lot more expensive, shoving me deeper in a hole which was already pretty darned deep.
“You opened a cell phone account using West Hardy’s address then you were reported as being employed with Ace in the Hole, Limited,” he answered, looking around, his upper lip curled with disdain then his eyes came back to me. “I see you landed on your feet.”
I wished I could be surprised he was acting like a cretin.
But considering he’d never acted anything else, I was not surprised.
“Are you here to discuss work you’d like done on your house? Because if you are, I need to tell you our clientele is exclusive, and our waiting list is long. It could be years and it’s highly likely you’ll need to accumulate extensive billable hours defending criminal creeps in order to afford it.”
The lip curl didn’t go away when he stated, “I’m here to talk to you.”
I stood and turned to face him. “There’s absolutely nothing I want to hear you say.”
“Actually, I think you’re wrong.”
“No, I know I’m right.”
He leaned in.
“No, Clara, you’re wrong,” he said quietly.
I shook my head. “Please leave, and unless you wish to talk to one of the boys about a home improvement job, don’t come back.”
“Rogan’s got cancer.”
My hand flew out and my fingertips pressed into the desk as my body rocked with this news.
“I knew you’d want to hear that.” He was still speaking quietly.
“Cancer?” I whispered.
“He’s been moved to a prison hospital. It’s not looking good. They’re giving him months, at most.”
Oh my God.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head.
“You’re his life insurance beneficiary,” Nolan went on.
I opened my eyes and lifted my head.
“What?” I breathed.
“Upon his death, you’ll receive five million dollars.”
I took a step back.
Then I shouted, “What?”
“I told you, he told you, both of us told you time and again while you pushed that divorce that he was going to take care of you. You wouldn’t listen. He didn’t listen to me and kept you as beneficiary. Now, as soon as he wastes away, you’re going to be rich.”
“How could he…how could he…?” I took in a breath, leaned forward and screamed, “How could he have a life insurance policy?”
“Clara—”
I threw up my hands.
“That’s insane!” I yelled.
“Clara, listen to me,” Nolan demanded, walking to me.
But I retreated until I hit the file cabinets and had to stop. Though he kept at me until he was less than a foot away.
I tipped my head back to look at him and shouted, “You have to pay on life insurance policies! How does he have money to pay on a life insurance policy?”