Read Online Tomorrow Wendell (White Dragon Black) by R. M. Ridley - Free Book Online
Authors: R. M. Ridley
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years.
Jonathan wondered what would have happened to him if his feet had found a different path than the one he now stumbled along.
There had been a few times over the years when he might have escaped the life, but after what he’d had to do to his father, those moments had come few and far between.
In the end, Jonathan knew where he belonged. He had been born into it, for better or worse. A wife and children had never been in the cards for him, not knowing the dirty little secrets the world hid.
Bao arrived with the tea and poured Jonathan’s first cup without impinging on his thoughts.
Lost in memories and impossible probabilities, as he sipped the jasmine tea, Jonathan failed to notice Wendell approaching the table. He only looked up when he realized the tall man stood before him.
Silently chastising himself, Jonathan motioned for Wendell to join him and poured his client a cup of tea.
He had been thinking about his life, choices made, and corners turned, instead of his client’s predicament, as he should have been. Now, Wendell watched him, one of his long fingered hands wrapped around the white china cup, completely obscuring it from view. Jonathan wondered what to tell his client. More importantly, how he could say what he had to.
“Look . . . Wendell.”
“You couldn’t find any proof.” The man sighed, and Jonathan pictured Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.
“I wasn’t looking for proof. I don’t need it. I already told you, Wendell; I believe something very suspicious is going on here. What I didn’t find was what , exactly, it is.”
He reached for his cigarette case out of habit and stopped out of habit. It had been years since he’d been able to smoke in the restaurant.
“I went looking for clues—traces of magic, some discernible reason or way that this is happening to you and I failed. I still possess no explanation for how this is happening.
“The eight ball and the fortuneteller machine both showed absolutely no trace of magical energy and you, yourself, are displaying none of the traditional signs of someone who’s been cursed.”
Jonathan took a sip of his tea and added, “Hell, even the horoscope had been automatically downloaded from some online site. So, I got nowhere.”
Jonathan noticed Bao emerge from the kitchen with his order of Singapore noodles. His stomach growled and he began to suspect it may be formulating plans of jettisoning from his body just to get the food all that much sooner.
“Drink your tea, Wendell. Try to relax. We are going to figure what’s behind this. We just have to come at it from every possible angle.”
Bao placed the giant plate of richly aromatic noodles before Jonathan and turned to Wendell.
“Would you like anything, sir?”
Wendell shook his head and mumbled, “No, thank you.”
“Eat, Wendell. There’s nothing to be gained by not eating. I need you healthy and alert.”
“I really don’t feel—”
“He’ll have the dumplings, Bao,” Jonathan said, cutting Wendell off. “No one can resist your dumplings. Put them on my tab.”
“I couldn’t make you pay,” Wendell protested.
Bao, knowing Jonathan too well, ignored Wendell’s objection and headed back for the kitchen, writing on his order pad.
“Don’t worry about paying for the dumplings; they’ll be part of the expenses I’m going to bill you for after this is all dealt with anyway. Right now, just worry about eating them.”
Wendell acquiesced with a slow nod and lifted the mug of tea to his lips.
Jonathan didn’t stand on ceremony, or try pretending to be polite. He dug into his plate of Singapore noodles with the gusto of a starving dog. He had been waiting for this order since Wendell had knocked on his office door and refused to risk fate by not eating now.
After swallowing his third giant mouthful, Jonathan sipped from his tea and finally broke the silence slumbering between him and his client.
“All right, Wendell. As it stands, I got nothing. So,
Jonathan wondered what would have happened to him if his feet had found a different path than the one he now stumbled along.
There had been a few times over the years when he might have escaped the life, but after what he’d had to do to his father, those moments had come few and far between.
In the end, Jonathan knew where he belonged. He had been born into it, for better or worse. A wife and children had never been in the cards for him, not knowing the dirty little secrets the world hid.
Bao arrived with the tea and poured Jonathan’s first cup without impinging on his thoughts.
Lost in memories and impossible probabilities, as he sipped the jasmine tea, Jonathan failed to notice Wendell approaching the table. He only looked up when he realized the tall man stood before him.
Silently chastising himself, Jonathan motioned for Wendell to join him and poured his client a cup of tea.
He had been thinking about his life, choices made, and corners turned, instead of his client’s predicament, as he should have been. Now, Wendell watched him, one of his long fingered hands wrapped around the white china cup, completely obscuring it from view. Jonathan wondered what to tell his client. More importantly, how he could say what he had to.
“Look . . . Wendell.”
“You couldn’t find any proof.” The man sighed, and Jonathan pictured Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.
“I wasn’t looking for proof. I don’t need it. I already told you, Wendell; I believe something very suspicious is going on here. What I didn’t find was what , exactly, it is.”
He reached for his cigarette case out of habit and stopped out of habit. It had been years since he’d been able to smoke in the restaurant.
“I went looking for clues—traces of magic, some discernible reason or way that this is happening to you and I failed. I still possess no explanation for how this is happening.
“The eight ball and the fortuneteller machine both showed absolutely no trace of magical energy and you, yourself, are displaying none of the traditional signs of someone who’s been cursed.”
Jonathan took a sip of his tea and added, “Hell, even the horoscope had been automatically downloaded from some online site. So, I got nowhere.”
Jonathan noticed Bao emerge from the kitchen with his order of Singapore noodles. His stomach growled and he began to suspect it may be formulating plans of jettisoning from his body just to get the food all that much sooner.
“Drink your tea, Wendell. Try to relax. We are going to figure what’s behind this. We just have to come at it from every possible angle.”
Bao placed the giant plate of richly aromatic noodles before Jonathan and turned to Wendell.
“Would you like anything, sir?”
Wendell shook his head and mumbled, “No, thank you.”
“Eat, Wendell. There’s nothing to be gained by not eating. I need you healthy and alert.”
“I really don’t feel—”
“He’ll have the dumplings, Bao,” Jonathan said, cutting Wendell off. “No one can resist your dumplings. Put them on my tab.”
“I couldn’t make you pay,” Wendell protested.
Bao, knowing Jonathan too well, ignored Wendell’s objection and headed back for the kitchen, writing on his order pad.
“Don’t worry about paying for the dumplings; they’ll be part of the expenses I’m going to bill you for after this is all dealt with anyway. Right now, just worry about eating them.”
Wendell acquiesced with a slow nod and lifted the mug of tea to his lips.
Jonathan didn’t stand on ceremony, or try pretending to be polite. He dug into his plate of Singapore noodles with the gusto of a starving dog. He had been waiting for this order since Wendell had knocked on his office door and refused to risk fate by not eating now.
After swallowing his third giant mouthful, Jonathan sipped from his tea and finally broke the silence slumbering between him and his client.
“All right, Wendell. As it stands, I got nothing. So,
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