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Authors: Gail McFarland
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brakes when kids in a convertible cut him off. “For real?” When AJ nodded, Dench’s grin lit his face. “That’s high praise, dude. High praise, indeed.”
“You deserve it. I saw you, I saw your team, and considering the time you’ve had with them, you did good.” His eyes cut across the cab. “Have you thought about playoffs? Playoffs and Rissa?”
“Playoffs, Rissa, and a baby? Yeah, dude. I’ve thought of almost nothing else.” Concentrating on the road ahead, Dench thought again. “She’s a complicated woman and she’s smart, but I know she’s watching the calendar, counting down the days for this baby. Dude, she made me promise to pick up paint samples for the nursery.” His eyes met AJ’s. “Was Marlea like that?”
AJ shrugged, eyes on the road. “I think they all do that. It’s natural.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Gripping the steering wheel, Dench made his way onto I-285. “Makes it hard to keep my head in the game sometimes.”
“Gotta watch that.”
“Dude, you think I don’t know that?”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I know.” Dench’s mouth was suddenly dry, even after he found his bottle of water and brought it to his lips. He tried to think of how to say what was on his mind. AJ fiddled with another CD, and Dench tried to frame his thought. “Has she said anything to you—about the baby?”
“You know Rissa,” AJ snorted. “Every chance she gets, she’s talking about the baby. I thank God that she lives in your house instead of mine—even if it is only down the street.”
“Yeah, I do know Rissa. Maybe that’s why I think that there’s something that…she’s not telling me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Aw, come on AJ, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to be all, you know, in touch with my feelings. I just know Rissa, and something’s off.”
“Marlea hasn’t said anything—she would have told me if Rissa said anything to her.”
“Huh. You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Huh.” Dench slowed and drove thoughtfully down the exit ramp. “She tell you what happened with her client?”
“Which client?” AJ drawled. “What happened?”
“James Clarence, she calls him Jimmy. He called after you all left on Christmas Eve, right? He had talked to her earlier, then he talked to me. Well, something one of us said must have been right because we woke up a couple days later with a chauffeur at the front door.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, dude, for real. It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and Rissa was buried under the covers when the doorbell rang, so I grabbed my robe and went to the door.”
AJ snickered. “Probably shuffling like an old man in those leather house shoes the kids gave you for Christmas.”
“Whatever, dude. I like the shoes. Anyway, by the time I got to the door, Rissa woke up and came running right behind me. You know how your sister is. I barely got the door open before she started asking questions.” His voice rose to imitate hers. “Who is it? Is that a limo out there? Why is a limo out there? Is that man dressed as a chauffeur? Why is a chauffeur at our front door?”
“And she never took a breath in between, right?”
“Don’t laugh, dude, you know she didn’t. But when I opened the door there he stood, a chauffeur, uniform and all. He was even wearing these high, polished black boots like you see in the movies, and I promise, he bowed and all but clicked his heels when the door opened. I asked who he was and he handed over these two long white boxes. ‘Courtesy of Mr. James Clarence,’ he said.”
Turning in his seat, AJ didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “So what was in the boxes?”
“You’re as bad as Rissa. He was a chauffeur, dude, pulled up in front of my house—that was enough for me.”
AJ gave up and laughed.
“Dude just smiled, touched the brim of his cap and got back in the limo. By the time he drove off, Rissa had her box open. Red roses, a split of champagne,
“You deserve it. I saw you, I saw your team, and considering the time you’ve had with them, you did good.” His eyes cut across the cab. “Have you thought about playoffs? Playoffs and Rissa?”
“Playoffs, Rissa, and a baby? Yeah, dude. I’ve thought of almost nothing else.” Concentrating on the road ahead, Dench thought again. “She’s a complicated woman and she’s smart, but I know she’s watching the calendar, counting down the days for this baby. Dude, she made me promise to pick up paint samples for the nursery.” His eyes met AJ’s. “Was Marlea like that?”
AJ shrugged, eyes on the road. “I think they all do that. It’s natural.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Gripping the steering wheel, Dench made his way onto I-285. “Makes it hard to keep my head in the game sometimes.”
“Gotta watch that.”
“Dude, you think I don’t know that?”
“I’m just sayin’.”
“I know.” Dench’s mouth was suddenly dry, even after he found his bottle of water and brought it to his lips. He tried to think of how to say what was on his mind. AJ fiddled with another CD, and Dench tried to frame his thought. “Has she said anything to you—about the baby?”
“You know Rissa,” AJ snorted. “Every chance she gets, she’s talking about the baby. I thank God that she lives in your house instead of mine—even if it is only down the street.”
“Yeah, I do know Rissa. Maybe that’s why I think that there’s something that…she’s not telling me.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Aw, come on AJ, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to be all, you know, in touch with my feelings. I just know Rissa, and something’s off.”
“Marlea hasn’t said anything—she would have told me if Rissa said anything to her.”
“Huh. You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Huh.” Dench slowed and drove thoughtfully down the exit ramp. “She tell you what happened with her client?”
“Which client?” AJ drawled. “What happened?”
“James Clarence, she calls him Jimmy. He called after you all left on Christmas Eve, right? He had talked to her earlier, then he talked to me. Well, something one of us said must have been right because we woke up a couple days later with a chauffeur at the front door.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, dude, for real. It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, and Rissa was buried under the covers when the doorbell rang, so I grabbed my robe and went to the door.”
AJ snickered. “Probably shuffling like an old man in those leather house shoes the kids gave you for Christmas.”
“Whatever, dude. I like the shoes. Anyway, by the time I got to the door, Rissa woke up and came running right behind me. You know how your sister is. I barely got the door open before she started asking questions.” His voice rose to imitate hers. “Who is it? Is that a limo out there? Why is a limo out there? Is that man dressed as a chauffeur? Why is a chauffeur at our front door?”
“And she never took a breath in between, right?”
“Don’t laugh, dude, you know she didn’t. But when I opened the door there he stood, a chauffeur, uniform and all. He was even wearing these high, polished black boots like you see in the movies, and I promise, he bowed and all but clicked his heels when the door opened. I asked who he was and he handed over these two long white boxes. ‘Courtesy of Mr. James Clarence,’ he said.”
Turning in his seat, AJ didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “So what was in the boxes?”
“You’re as bad as Rissa. He was a chauffeur, dude, pulled up in front of my house—that was enough for me.”
AJ gave up and laughed.
“Dude just smiled, touched the brim of his cap and got back in the limo. By the time he drove off, Rissa had her box open. Red roses, a split of champagne,
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