Dinner at Sam's, page 7
“That’d be great,” she said over her shoulder. To me, she winked and said, “Don't worry about him. He's all bark.”
“All the same, I'll stay in his good graces.”
At a booth in a corner of the restaurant, the surface of the table showed that she’d been there a while— stacks of folders, envelopes and papers covered half of the table. “I brought everything I could think of that might help. I thought you’d want to look at it all. And I wrote up a summary of my… situation.”
“These will probably be helpful, though not immediately. If we have to go to court, I may need it.”
I slid into one side of the booth and set my satchel at my feet. I rested my elbows on the table and clasped my hands together. She mimicked my pose but I noticed her hands trembling. “You seem tense. How are you doing?”
“Up and down since our conversation last night. I spent a lot of time on the internet, researching things.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine. “Not that I didn’t believe you. I wanted to see for myself. I’ve been so…”
She exhaled a deep sigh and brought her hands to her cheeks. “I feel so stupid. When it comes to Warren, he has a way of saying things that you don’t question. When he said I couldn’t make him pay because we weren’t divorced… and that I couldn’t divorce him because he’d never sign the papers—”
“I’ve heard it all. The rantings of a man trying to maintain control. Hardly ever lawful or enforceable. That’s why you need a good attorney, an attorney who’s interested in more than your wallet.”
She started to laugh, but covered her mouth with her fist, hiding a small but smug grin. “What’s your mother going to say when she finds out you picked up my case? She said Kincaid couldn’t help me.”
“Sylvia Kincaid can’t help you.” I grabbed the handle of my satchel and set it next to me, flipping open the top and pulling out a thin file. I opened it to the first page, a contract that stated a client was retaining my services. “Gibson Kincaid is going to do everything he can to make sure that you get your divorce.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, her eyes roving the first, and then the second page. “So… there are a lot of blanks on this fee schedule.”
“Because we need to talk about that. It doesn’t do any good for me to bill an insane amount that you can’t pay. Why be in hock to your lawyer, right? What works better is for us to figure out how long we think we’ll work together and agree on an amount per hour that you can afford. If we need to work with a cap, I’ll work until that’s satisfied and then we can negotiate a higher cap.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s… different.” She smiled, digging a pen out of the pocket of her apron. “I’ve never heard of an attorney working it that way.”
“Sometimes you have to think outside the box. I’m not free, of course. But I’d like to help you. If you’d like me to.”
I could have slapped my own self for how deep and seductive my voice sounded. I wasn’t trying to get her into bed, just to sign the contract. I talked to hundreds of clients, many of them young, attractive women. I had no problem talking to them, being professional, business-like, straightforward. That I couldn't talk to Vanessa without putting on that tone was working my own nerves.
“I know I should read this first, but I feel like I can trust you. You’re telling me everything I want to hear and I don’t even care if it’s lies. I’m so desperate to get away from my husband…” She signed and dated the blanks on the contract with a flourish, then slid them across the table to me. “I’m willing to take the leap.”
“You won’t regret it.” I signed the line above my typed name on the contract. “And there are no lies. Take this home and read it, top to bottom. It’s very straightforward, but if there’s something you don’t like, we can strike it. Cool?”
Vanessa had visibly relaxed. Her shoulders weren’t hunched around her ears, her jaw wasn’t square with tension, and her hands didn’t shake anymore. She nodded, her eyelids at half-mast. Her lips were bent, very slightly, in a dreamy smile.
“Cool. Everything sounds cool.”
“So you work here, part time?”
She nodded. “Temporarily. My Uncle’s way of helping me out.” She reached for a glass of water that she’d set to the side and closed her lips around the straw. My mind went into overdrive imagining those lips doing the same thing, somewhere else.
She licked her lips and slid the glass away. I must have been staring, because she tilted her head and stared back, her brows raised.
“So… lay this out for me, Mr. Kincaid. How will this work?”
“Gibson. First, you can call me Gibson.”
So I was attracted to her.
So it affected how I handled her case.
So I was offering her the lowest rate I’d ever ever offered a client.
So my mother was going to have a screaming fit, right after we’d had that argument about my fees and the cases I brought to Kincaid. Right after she’d told me not to take this case.
The woman that sat across from me had hope. She saw light at the end of the tunnel and the thought that she might soon be free gave her face the sexiest expression.
And I put it there.
Chapter Six
Vanessa
* * *
“I love a spring afternoon, don’t you? It’s not hot yet, and the flowers have started to bloom and the birds are chirping—”
“Okay, who spiked Sonja’s orange juice?”
Sonja was louder, her voice grittier than usual. She’d probably had a very late night and, despite it being early afternoon, quite possibly hadn’t slept yet.
“Nobody gotta spike my drinks. I never leave home without my flask. Besides, maybe I’m still drunk from last night, loud mouth heifer.”
Our table burst into loud, raucous laughter. It was a beautiful day, nice enough to sit outside on the new patio at Ruby’s Soul Food. The place had been around forever, but the general manager, Ruby’s oldest son, had been making steady improvements over the last year, making it even more popular than it was before.
The parking lot had been paved and striped, he’d had new concrete poured around the restaurant and added tables so guests could sit outside. The back patio was an extended wood deck that had been built over the winter. We’d snagged a reservation the first weekend it would be open.
Every so often, a few of the ladies I used to dance with got together to catch up. Sonja, who I’d known since my first day at Red Heels; Karen, aka Moxie, who had started at the club a few months before I stopped dancing; and Tania and Evin, who were new to “the life”. Sonja did her best to take new dancers under her wing and show them the ropes. She hadn’t danced in years, since she managed to work herself into a job as Talent Director at Red Heels.
“Besides, I don’t have to be drunk to be in a good mood. Chill, damn.” Sonja reached for one of the biscuits that the waiter had set on the table, so fresh they were still steaming. She split one open and spread a pat of butter on one half.
“We’re chill,” said Tania, reaching for a biscuit as well. “But you’re cheerful. Almost like you recently stabbed someone with a stiletto or something.”
I giggled, nursing a piping hot mug of coffee. “Ya’ll got Sonja all wrong. She’s not violent. Her mouth is her weapon.”
“She’s mean,” quipped Evin.
“She’s not mean, either,” said Karen. “Do what she says and get on her good side and she’ll be your best friend. She’ll look out for you and everything. Am I right, Nessa?”
“She is mean. But she means well. If I had listened to Sonja back in the day—”
“You wouldn’t be mommy to those beautiful girls,” she interrupted, around a bite of biscuit. “At least they look like you and not their father.”
That earned another round of laughter, even from me. These were the moments that I loved and looked forward to, with people that mattered to me. My aunt and uncle were great— they had taken the girls to a production at the Children’s Theater of Atlanta so I could have brunch with my friends. But these ladies not only knew me, they knew my life.
They knew what it was like to be a PTA mom by day, by night a seductive vixen writhing to the rhythm of a heavy R&B beat. They knew all about nice homes, nice cars, expensive shoes and shiny gems, but also stares and nasty looks. Or worse, propositions from men who thought dancers were prostitutes in their spare time. They knew what it was like to balance motherhood, relationships and a career in a profession that was seen as exploitative.
Some of us danced to rebel. Some of us danced to make money. Some of us danced because it was a way out. All of us danced because we chose to.
“What’s the latest with him, anyway?” Asked Evin. “I feel like I haven’t heard his name in a while.”
“Mmm,” I hummed, setting down my coffee cup. I’d been keeping an eye out for the waiter with our orders. I was ravenous and ready for chicken and waffles. “He’s been quiet. Quiet means he’s plotting. But whatever he’s doing doesn’t really matter anymore.”
I paused and inhaled a long, cleansing breath. I hadn’t even said it out loud yet, so it didn’t feel real yet. At any moment, things could fall through and I’d be right where I’d been for over a year.
“I finally hired an attorney. And I’m filing for divorce.”
After a round of quiet applause, Karen lifted her mimosa to the table. “Well, amen and hallelujah! I don’t know why brunch didn’t start with that piece of good news! Cheers to you, girl.”
Sonja brushed biscuit crumbs from the front of her blouse and shook out her napkin before laying it across her lap again. Then she reached for her glass and tapped it against Karen’s.
“I told her Warren was full of shit. He can’t say what she can’t do. Do it and see what happens.” To me, she asked, “Does he know yet? I’m guessing not, since your phone isn’t blowing up right now.”
I shook my head. “We haven’t filed yet. The easiest is to have a process server deliver the papers. But I don’t know where he lives…”
I shrugged, then perked when I saw the waiter approaching, his arms laden with plates and bowls of Ruby’s brunch special, Chicken and waffles with sides of cheese grits all around. I rubbed my palms together in anticipation.
While the waiter set down our plates and bowls, I continued. “So we’re going to file by putting an ad in the paper. He has a certain amount of time to respond. If he doesn’t see it and the time limit expires, the divorce goes through.”
“Except Warren is the type to run a Google search on himself,” Sonja grumbled. “Ain’t no way he won’t respond. You can bet on that.”
“You can’t serve him at work?” Tania asked, already digging her spoon into creamy, southern cheese grits.
I sucked my teeth. “Girl, what work? Warren lost his job, I guess, but signed back on as a contract salesman. He works from home, wherever that is, Of course, I can’t get his home address from Service Software. All they have listed is a PO Box. So, we either hire a private investigator to find him, or place an ad in the paper. I barely have money for an attorney, let alone an investigator.”
“He’s not worth that money or the time spent thinking about it,” said Sonja. “Too bad you can’t dance it off.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. I suggested it but Auntie and Uncle weren’t amused.”
Sonja chuckled. “They weren’t amused the first time, either. As if I would let your old ass come back to Red Heels. You probably can’t even do a decent backbend, let alone pole work.”
“Just because I haven’t danced for money in eight years doesn’t mean I don’t still have moves. Don’t make me get up in this respectable establishment and demonstrate, Sonja.”
“Mmmmm, I hear you talking.”
“Yeah, you hear me. I danced rings around you back in the day, lady. Don’t you forget it.”
“Sure did,” Sonja agreed, proudly nodding. “But only because I was on my way out. You couldn't out-dance me when I first started. Let you tell, it I was old and jealous but I knew what I was doing and what I was talking about. You thought you was the shit. Then you let your naive self get mixed up with Warren when I told you about his ass—”
“How many times do I have to say you were right about him?”
“Until I’m satisfied that you learned your lesson.”
“Who did you hire to do your divorce, Vanessa? Sylvia Kincaid stripped Dennis to. the. bone.” Karen made slicing motions with her hands, then laughed maniacally. “He probably can’t buy toilet paper right now.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, both at the mention of Sylvia and at Karen’s ex-husband Dennis. Karen was the “dancing to put herself through school” dancer. She was there for the paycheck and resisted advances from a handsome silver fox for years. When her financial aid fell through one semester, it was nothing for the well-to-do real estate mogul to write a check.
He swore he wasn’t trying to change her, wasn’t trying to rescue her. But, like Warren, he eventually expected her to be a Stepford Wife. Stay home, have babies, join the PTA, volunteer. Entertain his corporate buddies and be the pretty, sexy, chocolate thing on his arm.
The divorce was bitter and brutal and dragged on and on, due in part to Sylvia going for the jugular at every turn. I knew exactly how she worked and how much it cost to retain her because of Karen.
“I had a consultation with Sylvia, but… well, she rejected me.” I mumbled the last part under my breath.
“Rejected you. As a client? How does an attorney do that?”
“She found out I don’t have any money, and neither does Warren and basically kicked me out of her office. If you don’t look like a million bucks and aren’t swimming in diamonds, she’s not interested.”
“Uhm… okay….” Karen paled, as much as a caramel toned woman could pale. She pawed at the rocks in her ears, then the pendant dangling from her neck. The diamond encrusted watch she wore was blinding when it caught a ray of sun just right. “Is that a dig at me? You think I was wrong for going after everything I could?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t say that.”
“You may as well have. If you have something to say, Nessa, come on with it.”
“Karen.” Sonja glared until Karen huffed, rolled her eyes and tossed her napkin on the table, then pushed her chair back and got up. We all watched her shapely hips sway side to side, her extra high Louboutin’s striking a rhythm so strong that the entire deck vibrated with each step.
“Did I sound like I was coming at her?”
Evin rolled her eyes and propped an elbow on the table, resting her fingers on her temple. “Ever since the divorce hit the paper, her phone’s blowing up with bloggers trying to get interviews, her Facebook page is a mess and Twitter has named her Karrine Steffens, Jr. She’s about to have a nervous breakdown.”
“Karen will be alright. She just needs to a minute. You were saying?” Sonja gestured me to continue with her fork before spearing a syrup soaked slice of waffle. “Your attorney.”
“Well, I did end up hiring a Kincaid. One of her sons. I ran into him while I was trying to get out of that office. He asked if I was a client. I said no. We chatted for a minute, he gave me his card and told me to call him.” I lifted and lowered my shoulders in a that’s that shrug.
Karen stomped back to the table and resumed her seat. She was obviously still fuming, but didn’t say a word. She picked up her knife and fork and proceeded to eat chicken and waffles as furiously as I’d ever seen a person eat.
“Which of her sons is doing your divorce?” Tania was on her mobile phone, her long fingers clicking through screens. “There’s Garrett, Greggory, Gabriel and Gibson.”
“Gibson,” I answered. Karen snorted, almost choking on her food. “What did I say, now?”
“Nothing,” she answered. “Gibson is cheap, is all.”
“Okay, I don’t care how cheap he is. Bruh is foooiiinnneee.”
Evin swooned, grabbing Tania’s phone from her hands and enlarging the photo. She handed it around to everyone but Karen, who obviously knew what Gibson looked like. “All that pretty brown skin, looking like a Hershey bar. Wanna lick him up!”
“Sop him up with a biscuit, my mama used to say,” said Tania, taking the phone back. “How many of them are single? That one on the end looks like he has a steel rod up his ass.”
“That’s Garrett,” said Karen. “He’s married and not even worth tempting away. He’s so bland and boring. The other three are single but the two in the middle are so close they might be fucking each other.”
“Karen, what do you mean, Gibson is cheap? How much money does it take to file some papers?”
Karen shrugged, obviously still bristling and not in the mood to talk to me. “He takes a lot of…smaller, less costly cases.” She paused, making gestures with her hands before going back to her meal. “I don’t know. He’s like… a community lawyer. Nothing like everyone else at the firm.”
“That’s why I like him. He’s charging me based on what I can afford. He’s not spending a ton of money on things I can’t pay for, like private investigators and looking for money that isn’t there. I don’t care if Warren has a Swiss bank account. I want to be his ex-wife sometime this decade.”
“Well, let’s not be hasty, honey,” said Sonja. “If he has money somewhere, you need some of that.”
“He’s talking about bankruptcy. He barely has a pot to piss in and the IRS is about strip him to. the. bone.” Despite being mad at me, Karen sent me a wry, sideways smile. And winked in my direction.
“I might get married, so I can get a divorce and hire Mr. Gibson Kincaid,” said Tania, before closing the browser and tucking her phone away. “He’s nice to look at, at least.”
“He is more than nice to look at,” I admitted. “The day I met him he was wearing this amazing dark blue tailored suit. He was all broad shoulders and pretty smile and nice to meet you miss and manicured fingernails and good smelling cologne. The other night he brought my contract and paperwork to me at Sam’s and at one point he gave me this… look. It was probably innocent— I mean, I’m a client and he’s a professional, but...it was all I could do to not climb over that table and into his lap. I almost wish he wasn’t my divorce lawyer.”
