The Club President's Love Decree

1. Rory

RORY

Judge Carter made my day when he slammed that gavel down to give my client a not guilty verdict.

My smile was wide as I exited the court room.

This was my fifth win for the year, a victory that I couldn’t wait to celebrate.

This case had worn me out, and I couldn’t wait to grab a drink.

With my briefcase in one hand and my phone in the other, I sent a text to my best friend, Ava.

Me: Another win for your girl. See you at our spot boo!

Ava: I know that’s right. Drinks on me.

I put my phone in my pocket and was almost out of the building when a man dressed as a delivery driver approached me, carrying a box.

“Excuse me. Are you Rory Towns?” he asked.

“That’s me.”

He handed over the box, which I reluctantly accepted.

“Have a good day,” he said as he walked away.

With the box in tow, I headed out to my car and placed it on the passenger seat. As curiosity filled me, I opened it, and a bouquet of black roses startled me. I searched through the bouquet until I found a card nestled in a black envelope.

Congratulations on your win. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for me.

What the fuck? Who the hell could have sent me this?

A trail of goosebumps lined my arm as I stared blankly at the card.

The good feeling I got from my win quickly changed to fear.

I looked nervously around the parking lot for any delivery trucks and didn’t see the guy or a truck. Shit had gotten weird just that quick.

The longer I sat, the more I wondered how that man knew who I was.

My heart continued to beat out of my chest as worry set in.

Someone must have sent him, but who? With the number of cases I had tried over the years, it could’ve been anyone.

Even people I had declined to represent could have done this.

After I gathered myself, I started the car and drove off. I didn’t want to keep Ava waiting. A weird package wouldn’t interfere with our tradition. Those stupid flowers would be in the garbage the minute I stopped.

Ava was also an attorney. We worked at the same firm. At the end of each case, we met at the same bar. We’d been doing this since our first cases. It didn’t matter what the outcome was. This was our way of decompressing before moving on to our next case.

An hour later, after battling the hellish New York City traffic, I parked my car and headed inside Bottoms Up.

The name was cheesy as hell, but the bar always had good vibes, good drinks, and good wings.

I pushed the black roses and note in the back of my mind while I drove.

Part of me didn’t want to tell Ava. I hesitated, but what if something happened to me, and I didn’t tell anyone?

The moment I entered the bar, I saw Ava in all her beauty seated at a tabletop, looking at the menu.

My girl could have been a model, but she practiced law.

Her chocolate complexion, button nose, and wide eyes made her face card lethal.

On top of that, she was five feet ten inches without heels, putting her in model territory.

“Hello, gorgeous,” I said as I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“There she goes. Congratulations, counselor.”

“You know our favorite words are not guilty, sis.”

We slapped each other a high five and shared a laugh. Ava and I had been as thick as thieves since law school. We were the only two black women in our class. One study session and we’d been friends ever since. If no one ever clapped for me, I knew Ava would and vice versa.

“So, who’s on the list for you to save next?” Ava asked.

“Before I think about what’s next, let me tell you about what happened at the courthouse. I came out of the courtroom, and a man dressed like a delivery man approached me. He asks my name, then hands me a box. When I get to the car, it’s black roses and a card in an envelope.”

“What did the card say? Who were they from?

“Congratulations on your win. Too bad you couldn’t do the same for me.”

“What the fuck?” she questioned.

“I felt the same way after I read the card, so I don’t know if I’m in danger or if someone is just fucking with me.”

“Either way, just be alert. Well, be even more alert than you already are. Hopefully, it’s just someone trying to spook you. You’ve had so many cases over the years; it could literally be anybody.”

“You’re thinking the same thing I did. It could be anyone. I’ll start carrying my gun again… just in case.”

“Girl, let’s order some drinks. We’re supposed to be celebrating. All that other stuff can wait for another day,” Ava said as she waved the server over.

I tried to move past the conversation, but the scenario replayed in my mind.

The more I replayed the interaction, the weirder it was to me.

Someone went out of their way to send that message to me.

The fake courier knew exactly who I was and the time I would leave the courthouse.

Someone had to have told them where I would be and when I would be leaving.

I continued to feel uneasy while I attempted to enjoy my time with Ava.

We placed our order for a twenty-piece lemon pepper wings, extra crispy, and two whiskey sours.

Ava and I were mid-conversation, chatting about our upcoming cases and her dating life, when the finest man I had ever laid eyes on walked into the bar.

He was average height with broad shoulders and a toffee complexion.

His dark Caesar haircut and full beard were well groomed.

Tattoos covered his arms and neck. There was a scar that ran from the middle of his bicep to his wrist and was visible through the tattoos.

The motorcycle vest he wore was black and had the words “Sons of” on the top and “Destruction” on the bottom in white writing outlined in red.

A dog tag hung around his neck. He had an air about him that made everyone in the bar stop and stare.

I watched as he and the two men with him took a seat at a table across from Ava and me.

Ava was so engrossed in our conversation that she didn’t notice the men until they sat down.

I tried in vain, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the handsome stranger who locked eyes with me.

“If you’re not going to go over there and say hello, then stop staring,” Ava said.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes. She knew I would never get up and speak to any man first. If a man was interested in me, he would need to come see me. The server came over with our food and drinks. My staring contest was instantly disengaged.