The Rooster Bar

Ramon ordered a vodka tonic and Todd placed it before him with a small bowl of peanuts. “You know this dude?” Ramon asked, showing Todd the business card of one Mark Upshaw of the firm of Upshaw, Parker & Lane. Address right there, right where he was sitting: 1504 Florida Avenue.


Todd looked at it and shook his head. He and Mark had convinced the other bartenders and waiters to play completely dumb if anyone showed up asking questions about them, their firm, or their offices. So far, the little conspiracy was holding.

Ramon said, “Dude’s my lawyer, and his card says his office is right here, but this is a bar, right?” His tongue was a bit thick, some of his words not so clear.

Todd was suddenly captivated by his customer and wanted to know more. “He might be upstairs. Don’t know what all’s up there, but you won’t find a lawyer working at this time of night.”

“Dude’s running from me, you know what I mean? Been calling him for three days now and he won’t answer.”

“He must be busy. What kinda case you got?”

“Big one.” He closed his eyes and nodded, and Todd realized he was drunker than he’d thought.

Todd said, “Well, if I bump into him, what do I say? Who’s looking for him?”

“Name’s Ramon,” he said, barely lifting his head. He had yet to touch his drink.

Todd took a deep breath and eased away. He stepped into the kitchen and sent a text to Mark. Our client Ramon is here, drunk. Stay away. Where r u?

Atlanta airport, delayed.

Call him and feed him a line. Something.

Will do.

Todd returned to the bar and stood a few feet from Ramon, who made no effort to pull out his phone. If Mark was calling, Ramon wasn’t responding. Still holding the business card, he waved Todd over and said, “This say Florida Avenue, right? So where’s the law office?”

“Don’t know, sir.”

“I think you’re lying,” Ramon said, louder.

“No, sir. You’re right, this is Florida Avenue, but I don’t know of any law office.”

Even louder, Ramon said, “Well, I got a gun in my car, you know that? And if I can’t get justice one way, I might just get it another. Know what I mean?”

Todd nodded at another bartender as he stepped closer to Ramon. “Look, sir, if you’re going to threaten folks we’ll have no choice but to call the police.”

“I gotta find this dude, okay? Mr. Upshaw, Attorney-at-Law. He’s got my case and I think he’s running from me. And don’t go calling no police, okay?”

“Why don’t you finish your drink and I’ll call you a cab?”

“Don’t need a cab. Got a car out there with a gun under the seat.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a gun. That makes us very nervous around here.”

“Just don’t call no police.”

“They’ve already been called, sir.”

Ramon’s back stiffened and his eyes popped wide open. “What? Why’d you do that? I ain’t hurt nobody.”

“Sir, we take gun talk seriously in this city.”

“How much is the drink?”

“It’s on the house if you want to hustle on out of here.”

Ramon slid off the stool and said as he headed for the door, “Don’t know why you had to call the police.” Todd followed him outside and watched him disappear around the corner. If he had a car, Todd didn’t see it.





28





Late on a Saturday morning, Todd woke up in the bed of Hadley Caviness, for the second night in a row, and realized she was missing. He rubbed his eyes, tried to remember how much he’d drunk, and decided it wasn’t much at all. He felt great and enjoyed the extra hour of sleep. She returned, in nothing but a large T-shirt, with two cups of coffee. They propped up pillows and sat in the darkness.

There was movement in the next room, a rattling sound as if a bed was shaking. Then the muted groans of pleasure.

“Who’s that?” he whispered.

“My roommate. She came in late last night.”

“Who’s her buddy?”

“Don’t know. Probably just some random guy.”

“So she’s into the random stuff as well?”

“Oh yes. We’re sort of having a contest. A numbers game.”

“I like it. Do you count me once or twice?”

Hadley took a sip of coffee, and they listened as things intensified. “I get one point for you, one for your partner.”

“Oh, so Mark’s been here?”

“Nice try. I saw you guys talking in court the other day while you looked me over. I could almost read your lips. Sure enough, you walked in the next day all smiles.”

“I confess. Mark said you’re great in bed.”

“Is that all?”

“Great body, very aggressive. Now I know why. You and your roomie are keeping score.”

“We’re both twenty-six years old, single with no desire to try the monogamy thing, and we’re free and loose in a city with about a million young professional men. It’s become a sport.” The male partner reached the summit as the floor shook, then the bed stopped rattling.

“That was too fast,” Hadley said. Todd cracked up and said, “So you compare notes?”

“Absolutely. We have a ball debriefing, especially after she’s been out of town all week and sleeping with all kinds of men.”

“I don’t want to know my scouting report.”

“I have an idea. There’s a bagel shop just around the corner. Let’s get out of here and find something to eat. I have far better taste in men than she does and I really don’t want to meet her latest stranger.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Let’s go.”

They dressed quickly and eased out of her apartment without confronting the other pair. The bagel shop was packed with the weekend crowd. They found a table by the door and wedged themselves into the chairs. As they crunched on toasted bagels, Todd said, “You know, you’re too cute to be sleeping with half the town.”

She looked around. “Not so loud, okay?”

“I’m practically whispering.”

“What, you want to settle down and get married or something?”

“Not quite ready for that. It just seems odd that a knockout like you is so into the random game.”

“That’s chauvinistic. It’s okay for you to hook up every night, but if a cute girl does it then she’s nothing but a slut.”

“I didn’t call you a slut.”

A guy at the next table glanced over. Hadley took a sip of coffee and said, “Let’s talk about something else. I’m intrigued by your little law firm. I’ve met you and Mark Upshaw. Who is Zola Parker?”

“A friend.”

“Okay. Does she hustle the criminal courts like you and Mark?”

“Oh no. She does personal injury.” Todd kept his answers short and wanted to change the topic.

“Does she have a license to practice law?”

Todd chewed on his bagel and studied her beautiful eyes. “Of course.”

“Well, I got curious and checked with the Bar Council. Seems they haven’t heard of you, Mark, or Ms. Parker. You guys need to sign up. And the bar numbers you’re using are not in their data bank.”

“Their records are notoriously sloppy.”

“Oh really. Never heard that.”

“Why are you so curious?”

“My nature. You say you went to law school at Cincinnati. Mark studied at Delaware. I checked with both schools and they’ve never heard of you. Zola claims to have a law degree from Rutgers but somehow she slipped through the cracks of their alumni association.” Hadley was talking with a nasty, know-it-all smile.