Page 5 of Tequila Tuesdays

Sheila smiled. “Laurel takes after Fern in a lot of ways, but Laurel’s father is a first-rate bastard.”

“That’s too bad. Does she have any family besides her father?”

“Young twin half-brothers. Ramone’s pretty much adopted her—you know how Ramone is.”

I smiled. “He kind of adopted me, too.”

Sheila looked at me. “I’m not surprised. How?”

“About a month after I started at my old firm, one of the partners dumped an ugly divorce case on me. The estranged husband and his snake of an attorney were filing motion after motion, and all these unnecessary discovery requests on my client.”

Sheila grimaced. “It sounds ugly. And expensive.”

“It was, and I had no idea how to help my client. I mentioned my dilemma to Grace one day. And the next thing I knew, Ramone called me to discuss the case at no charge. He hates the opposing counsel, so that helped.”

“If anyone could help you, it would be Ramone. What’d he tell you to do?”

I grinned. “He introduced me to the vexatious litigant doctrine, which is someone who files repetitive, burdensome, and frivolous motions just to be an asshole. After researching the statute, I filed a motion and had the opposing party deemed a vexatious litigant. His attorney fees tripled due to all the hoops he and his attorney had to jump through. Not long afterward, the case settled, thank God.”

She patted my arm. “Nice job.”

“So yeah, I know all about Ramone and his ways. I love that man.”

Sheila smiled. “I’ll introduce you.”

When Sheila went to help Grace at the bar, I turned to Laurel. “I hear you’re going to work at Lewis and Clark. I love those guys.”

She smiled. “I love them too.”

Ramone Lewis and Jonathan Clark owned the law firm where Grace worked. They’d been married for years, and I thought the coincidence of their last names was charming.

“I hear your aunt started these parties.”

Laurel nodded. “Fern wanted them to have a 1950s Hollywood-style pool party feel. She would have loved this.” She gazed around Grace and Sheila’s backyard.

We decided to try the martinis. When she asked Sheila for a dry martini, I grimaced.

She laughed. “If you don’t like martinis, have a cosmopolitan instead.”

Laurel and I found a place to sit and sip our drinks. We talked for almost an hour, and I invited her to the Friday potluck lunch my office partners and I usually held. She’d like my office partners, and it would be a good way for her to network.

Laurel reached over and squeezed my hand. “Thank you. For coming tonight to meet me and for helping me meet other attorneys.”

“You’re welcome. Ramone and Jonathan did it for me.”

We’d just swapped contact information when Laurel glanced behind me and started waving. I turned around and noticed two tall, good-looking men walking into the backyard. I studied them briefly, then did a double take.

One of the men had dark blond hair and a distinctive dimple. He also sported a little stubble. Dimples didn’t have a volleyball jersey on and his nose wasn’t bleeding, but I’d recognize his face anywhere.

“Aw, fuck,” I muttered.

Chapter 3

ItriedtograbLaurel’s arm and get her to stop waving. But it was too late. They walked over to us, and Dimples gave Laurel a hug and looked at me without recognition. He and his friend were both still as muscular as ever, and I mentally cringed.

I thought about my volleyball team, and what shape they were probably in a few weeks before the new season started.

Laurel introduced us. “Damien, this is Harley Emerson.”

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