But Cal er ID told me it was another man who had been on my mind.
Paul Harrington was cal ing me.
CHAPTER 20
“Tell me again what you want me to do,” Freddy asked when I cal ed him one minute after I finished talking with Paul.
“Just be at the bar where I’m going to meet Paul and sit in the back. I don’t want him to see you. Then just… watch. Just to make sure he doesn’t try anything funny.”
“Honey, I’ve seen Paul Harrington,” Freddy said.
“The only funny thing he’d try would be to give you a handjob under the table.”
“No, I think one of the Harrington boys might want to have me hurt.”
“Just because Michael looked like he wanted to eat you alive the other night? And I mean, like Hannibal Lecter wanted to eat Clarice,” Freddy clarified.
“No,” I answered. I told Freddy what happened at the hotel.
“What!” Freddy said. “Are you shitting me?”
“I wish I were.”
“Have you told your cop boyfriend about it?”
“I was about to, but then he dumped me.” I explained what just went down between me and Tony.
“Poor baby,” Freddy said. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
Freddy loved me, but to tel you the truth, he didn’t sound that sorry.
“Thanks, but I real y don’t want to focus on that right now. The point is, we’re not going to get any help from him.”
“Doesn’t sound like. But why are you meeting Paul?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthful y. “I guess I’m curious. He said he wanted to talk to me but he wouldn’t say why. I was just about to give up on the Harringtons when he cal ed. Maybe it’s a sign.”
“‘Wet floor’ is a sign, too, angel. One you’re supposed to avoid. Like the Harringtons.”
“I know, but if I don’t do this, I’l just spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. Let me see what he has to say. I’l let him know that the warning I got today worked and that I’m backing off.”
“Are you?”
“I was half an hour ago. Now, I don’t know. Wil you help me?”
“Honey,”
Freddy asked,
“what are you, meshuggana? Of course I’l be there. But listen- how about you cal me on your cel and leave it on the table while you and Paul talk. That way, I can listen, too.”
“You’re a genius,” I told him. “Thanks, Freddy.”
For our meeting, Paul picked a bar wel known as a place where married men of means could meet in a dark and discrete setting. From its mahogany bar to its twenty dol ar martinis, live piano player, and subdued track lighting, Intermission reeked of money and good taste.
Of course, the men who came here were rarely interested in meeting each other. The bar was fil ed with hustlers of the highest order, young men with gym toned bodies, fake tans, and higher educations.
Anyone of lesser quality would be ignored or evicted by the imposing bouncer who sat by the door as imposing and immobile as a Rodin.
I knew boys who worked Intermission. They usual y did very wel. The clientele was wel — off and conducted themselves as gentlemen. I avoided it because it sounded like a meat rack, albeit one with leather seating and stunningly handsome bartenders.
“I figured I’d pick a place you were used to frequenting,” Paul Harrington said, in lieu of “hel o,” as I settled myself into the booth he had chosen, as far back and as dark as it was possible to find.
“Actual y, I’ve never been here before,” I said.
“How about you?”
“Not real y.”
Just then, a waiter who could have been cast as
“handsome col ege student #2” in a soap opera came to our table.
“Good to see you again, sir,” he said to Paul in a deep baritone. “The usual?”
While Paul cringed and ordered, I took my cel phone from my pocket, discretely pressed the speed dial number for Freddy, and put it face down on the table. I saw him at the bar, with his back to us, and his Bluetooth headset firmly planted in his ear. He pressed the “answer” button and nodded. I knew he could hear our conversation. Good.
Studly McWaiter turned to me. “And you, sir?” His voice was respectful, but the look he gave me was condescending.
I ordered a bottled water.
“Very good then.” He turned away, revealing an ass as perfect as the rest of him.
Please Freddy, I thought, don’t get too distracted tonight.
Paul put his hands on the table. “If you don’t mind, I’l be direct.”
“I’d appreciate it,” I said.
“How much?”
Huh? Was this a math problem that I missed the first half of? “How much what?”
“I thought we were going to be direct with each other,” Paul said. “How much do you want?”
Paul looked very handsome tonight in his expensive suit and expertly knotted tie. His light brown hair was swept back in a slickly plastered down helmet not seen since the movie Wall Street, but it looked good on him. He might not have the expansively muscular build of his brother, but his shoulders were wide and his chest was broad.
His light blue eyes were very attractive, but I thought I saw a little redness there, too.
Had he been working late nights? Crying? Or was there stil a little Mace left in them?
There was no way to know-at least not yet. I had to admit, though, Paul Harrington was a man who got better looking the more you saw him. I could total y see how he hooked up with that hot guy at Sexbar.
But stil, ewwww. The fact that he wanted to have sex with me when he thought I had slept with his father was just total y icky.
“This bar is ful of boys you can hire, Paul. I’m not one of them.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Paul grimaced. “I’m talking about buying your silence.”
“My silence?”
“Look, you caught me in a very compromising position,” Paul said. “I assume you’re planning on using that information against me. Just as you used my father to get what you wanted.”
“Paul, I didn’t ‘use’ your father. We were friends.
And I’m not going to blackmail you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Let’s not use the word ‘blackmail,’” Paul said.
“Let’s just say I’d like to reward your discretion.”
The waiter brought our drinks over.
I picked up my bottle. “OK then, how about the drinks are on you? There, you’ve bought my silence.”
Paul looked at me with disbelief. “That’s it?”
“I don’t know who or what you think I am,” I said,
“but I’m not a scam artist and I’m not interested in causing you any trouble. I loved your father too much to hurt his children.”
“You loved my father?”
“Of course, I loved your father. He was a great man.”
