Chapter 18
Shopping with a stranger wasn’t my cup of tea. The places we went weren’t malls. Some might claim, since each shop had its own entrance, that it might be compared to shopping in a small town on Main Street, that was if Main Street was endless, fashions were crazy, and the prices were triple. Yeah, only then might it compare to small-town shopping.
Ruby needed to switch to decaf. Keeping up with her produced the same results as running a marathon. Every muscle in my body ached, my feet throbbed, and I didn’t see an end in sight until we stopped to refuel at a restaurant.
Everyone was dressed and having power lunches, where deals were probably being made and hashed out on the expensive linens. I didn’t fit in. Even worse, the manager gave me a once-over and lifted a brow as if trying without words to tell me I wasn’t welcome. He was an idiot. I already knew that.
Ruby got off her phone call, walked inside, and stopped next to me. She was greeted with air kisses on both cheeks by the manager.
“Rinaldo,” she cooed.
“Ms. Ruby. It’s always a pleasure.”
“I need my usual table if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Who will be joining you?” The manager glanced in my direction. His brows arched like a major player at a hoity toity hotel.
“Nina is Mr. Simmons’ personal guest from out of town. He wanted me to treat her to the best, and, well… we both know that it means your restaurant.”
“Of course.” The manager cleared his throat, and we were shown to a table set for six, and it looked like the best seats in the house.
“You come here often?” I asked as Ruby waved to someone across the room.
“We entertain clients here,” she said, returning her gaze to mine and away from whomever she’d just noticed. “Do you mind if I step away and go say hi? We’ve been trying to close that group as clients for a month.”
“Go right ahead.” I smiled and flipped open my sketchbook. “I’ll be here…”
She was gone before I could finish my sentence. I was glad for the few minutes of reprieve. A sketch had been gnawing at the back of my mind, so I pulled out a pencil and started to draw, only to be interrupted by a waiter for my drink order.
He took it and was about to walk away when I grabbed his arm. “Can you tell the chef to take his time with our order?”
I needed the reprieve.
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and walked away as if I’d stolen his puppy. Was he afraid we were going to hog the table and be horrible tippers?
I went to work on my picture again. A shadow crossed the table as two men appeared in front of me. One dressed in a suit like Harlon’s, with dark hair and deep chocolate eyes. The other blond, wearing a leather jacket.
“So how are you liking your stay?” Suit asked.
“I can see why he hasn’t let us come by to visit,” Blondie said.
“Wait, aren’t you the guys who gave us a ride?”
They exchanged a knowing look and smiled. “You remembered.”
They glanced over their shoulder to where Harlon was standing with Ruby. His hand was on her lower back as the people around the table laughed at something he’d said. Wall Street was in the house.
“My memory works just fine,” I answered, flipping my book closed.
“I’m Milton,” Blondie said. “And that’s Quinton.” Blondie pointed to Suit.
“You’re the friends who are helping find Suzie, and I believe Ruby told me that you’re Mr. Fields’ sons? The ones who don’t go running off risking their lives and acting as security guards.”
“Ruby hates when Harlon works in the field. She can’t always reach him, and that drives her control issues into overdrive,” Quinton said.
They each took a seat, and the wait staff hurried to the table with drinks they hadn’t ordered.
“You guys must come here a lot if they know your drink preference.”
