“What’s up with you and Pratt Jr.?”
“We’ve never liked each other. Even in college. We used to call him Weaselboy because he always acted like one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Off the record?”
“Off.”
“He was a slinky, sneaky, slimy snitch.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” Tibbet drawled, making Paul laugh. “He’s got Pratt Sr. fooled.”
“I don’t think so. Senior’s not easily fooled, even by his kith and kin. Melvin’s not that sly as to fool the old man.”
“You’d be surprised how blind a father can be,” Tibbet said, adding, “especially when it comes to the eldest son.”
“Only son, at that.”
“All the more reason.”
“So how’d you end up in his good book so much that he pimped you and your buddy to his daddy’s firm?”
“No idea, and that still puzzles me. Neither Todd nor I saw that coming, I can tell you. We took Melvin out, thanked him with a nice dinner and all, but it was never comfortable. I think the bottle of Scotch Todd bought him is still sitting in his office on the credenza.”
“Really?” He could hear Tibbet scratching notes. “Waste of good Scotch.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I gotta get home. Remember, call. I don’t care if you think it’s only a mouse farting, if it’s out of place, lock the damn bedroom door and call.”
“Got it, loud and clear.”
He would call because he had something for which to live. He had Torie. He was going to do whatever it took to find her forgiveness.
For the first time, he understood Todd’s obsession with making it up to Torie. The difference was, Todd had felt that he’d somehow let a friend down, embarrassed her.
From the vantage point of love—dear God, that was hard to admit, even to himself—he could see that Todd wanted to ease a friend’s pain. On the other hand, Paul wanted to win her back, and he didn’t give a damn about the short term. He wanted forever. He wanted a chance to be with her, hear her laugh. Have another dinner out. Or in.
It wouldn’t matter if it was burgers and fries, or the finest steak and wine. He just wanted it to be with her.
“Christ Almighty, I’m getting sappy talking to myself,” he complained aloud.
It was true, though.
Tomorrow he would plan. He would figure out a way.
He’d loved her too long to let her go without a fight.
He turned off the lights in the living room, but sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop. There was one thing he could do now.
Within minutes, he’d ordered the flowers to be sent. They would be delivered to Torie’s room first thing in the morning. The card would have only four words.
“Save me a dance.”
That done, he shut down the laptop and turned out the lights. He turned off the porch light, but the other light, the one in his bedroom, he turned on.
That was nearly his death sentence.
He was walking to shut the drapes when he saw a glint of something directly across the street, where the neighborhood kids’ playground was located. Someone moving.
Something different, Tibbet said.
As he dove for the phone, the glass shattered.
A whoop of a siren made him wince, and he heard engines revving outside as they tore off toward the park.
He dialed Tibbet.
“What?”
“Your guys hit the sirens.” He couldn’t help the shake in his voice. “Someone just put a shot through my bedroom window.”
“Damn, I was right. Marsden owes me twenty bucks.” Paul heard the sound of rustling clothes. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Sit tight.”
“Okay if I do that on the floor?”
Tibbet laughed and cut off the call. Paul heard the doorbell, and shakily got to his feet to answer it.
