Drop Dead Gorgeous

A business lunch with Frederick is something that should excite me, and any other time, it would. Especially after a win like this morning’s case. But all I can think of is tracking Zoey down, and going back to the city, having lunch, and getting Frederick and Mason out of my hair means that it’ll be hours before I can see what’s wrong with Zoey.

Unfortunately, Frederick’s idea wasn’t a question, and I find myself walking down the stairs toward the front door of the Williamson County offices. I look around, hoping to see Zoey, or even Sheriff Barnes so I can step away for a minute and give him a piece of my mind. But we don’t pass anyone, and even the front desk, where Alver usually sits as the building’s guardian, is vacant.

Mason drives us back to town with Frederick and me sitting in the back seat.

“Where would you recommend for a good steak and a nice scotch?” Frederick asks.

I have no idea. A bar? I have multiple recommendations, and some of them don’t even have trivia nights.

A place to grab a quick bite that’ll leave me with leftovers for tomorrow and not kill my macros?

Sure, I’ve got those too.

But fancy, white tablecloth places for business deals on Frederick’s level? Nope, not my area of expertise.

“Sure, let me see if I can get us a reservation,” I tell him.

On my phone, I click into a review app and filter restaurant options by steakhouse and three-dollar signs to get the expensive ones a man like Frederick would expect. A few more clicks and I have a table reserved for thirty minutes from now. Which is good, because we’re a bit out of town.

Before I put my phone down, I take advantage of the fact that Frederick is distracted by his own device and send a text to Zoey.

You okay? I’m doing lunch with Frederick and then I’ll call you.

I wait a minute to see if she responds, but nothing comes back. She’s probably busy after taking the whole morning for court. I just hope she stood her ground with Sheriff Barnes about whatever pissed her off. If not, I’ll comfort her and kill him.

“Reservations made,” I tell Frederick and then give Mason the address. We head over there . . . and lunch drones on for hours. More precisely, Frederick does.

Our steaks are gone, so delicious I ate every bite despite knowing it’ll make me sluggish as hell for tomorrow’s run, and my second scotch is watered down to the point of being undrinkable after I sipped the first as slowly as possible.

Frederick swallows his scotch easily, imparting wisdom from his years in a role similar to mine—‘in the trenches’, he calls it—all the way up to sitting in a leather, button-tufted, VP chair.

Mason is rapt at attention, listening to every word from Frederick’s mouth as though he can absorb them and put them to instant use. Admittedly, Frederick is a brilliant man with a wealth of experience, and I respect what he’s accomplished. Any other time, a one on one with him would be a highlight of my career, an opportunity to learn and even show off a bit.

Today, all I want is for him to shut up, get in the back seat of his car, and let Mason drive him home. He’ll probably either be passed out for a power nap or back to working within minutes of pulling out of the restaurant lot, and at the same time, I’ll be well on my way back to Williamson County to find Zoey.

Finally, Frederick gives his corporate card to the waiter to pay the bill and I’m on the cusp of freedom.

“We can drop you by your office?” Frederick offers.

“Thanks, but I don’t mind taking an Uber. I know you have a long drive back,” I say as if that’s the reason I’m trying to ditch him.

“Appreciate the understanding,” Frederick replies as he offers his hand. “You did good work this morning, Blake. Really showed how dedicated you are to your clients and any claims. Everlife appreciates that. I appreciate that.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” I reply honestly. “I take my client’s trust seriously, while ensuring that Everlife’s interests are protected. Integrity on all sides is what allows us, as an industry, to thrive.”

Damn, I should write that down for my next commercial with Amy. Though maybe I won’t have to hustle for more clients if Frederick stays true to his word and sends some corporate accounts my way.

Frederick beams, his smile a little sloppy but pure. “Well said.” The compliment comes with a pointed finger to my chest. “You’re a good man. Exactly what Everlife needs.”

I’d be floating on cloud nine, except that Frederick follows up the lovey-dovey fest with a hiccup that he doesn’t quite contain. Ignoring it, he leans in to whisper on scotch-scented breath, “Keep on top of the sheriff and that coroner out here. Make sure there are no shortcuts taken, because I’m sure this wasn’t the last we’ve heard of Yvette Horne. She’s a conniving one.”