Chapter 9 – Dylan
Chapter Nine
DYLAN
M y watch says it’s almost seven, which means happy hour is nearing its end. I double-check that the car I’m watching is still in its parked position since I can’t see Nat from the bar’s windows. Yes, I’m officially a stalker, but after the fiasco at the wedding dress store, I figured I wouldn’t be welcome at the table inside.
Kaden had called me earlier, asking if we were going to happy hour. I explained to him what happened, and after he was done cursing me out, he said he’d find a way to meet up with Frankie on his own. And he said that he was going to pretend we weren’t friends so it would help his cause. Whatever works for you, man , I’d replied.
My feelings aren’t hurt because I know I’m the bad guy in this scenario. Or, if not the bad guy, then the lawyerly henchman trying to help the bad guy. But this lawyer is having second thoughts about what side he’s on and is trying to go down a different path. Maybe it’s one that seems shiftless and lazy, but making hats and blankets for preemies in the hospital seems to a better use of my time than writing prenuptial agreements that dole out money based on how many kids a wife can pop out.
The bar door swings open, and I straighten up, only to slide back down when it’s three men who exit. These girls need to go to an all women’s bar because those men look like the kind that would ask you what song you were listening to while you were wearing headphones. Irritating jackasses.
I have Natalie’s work phone number. I could have called that, but stalking a girl’s workplace felt more wrong than happening to be on the same public street at the same time she is. It’s a pedantic detail, but what are lawyers if not lovers of pedantic details? Finding small discrepancies in hundred page contracts is what we are paid to do.
The door opens again, and this time it’s Natalie, Frankie, and Luna. I get out of my car and wait for traffic to pass before crossing the street. By the time Natalie and Frankie are at their car, Luna has been whisked away by a Montclair car. The prenuptial agreement hasn’t put her off marriage, just as Michael predicted.
Natalie catches a glimpse of me, but I can tell by the way she leans forward that she doesn’t quite trust her eyesight in the dim light.
I raise my big paw in the air. “Hey, Natalie.”
Frankie scowls. “I thought you said you weren’t stalking us.”
“I wasn’t before, but tonight I am.”
“Stalking can get you disbarred.”
“I think only a reprimand, but since I’m closing my law practice, disbarment isn’t much of a threat.” I turn to Natalie, who hasn’t said anything yet. “You eat too much shrimp at happy hour or can I take you out for dinner?”
“I have a phone,” she says.
“Sure, but that’s work and your personal space, and this is a public street, and somehow that argument worked better in my head than saying it out loud.” I pluck my phone out of my pocket. “Let’s exchange numbers so that I don’t have to hang outside of bars in the hopes that I can find you on the street.”
Frankie clucks her tongue, but after hesitating a moment, Natalie pulls her own phone out of her purse. “This may be a bad idea, but at least Frankie knows what you look like in case I show up in a body bag.”
“Isn’t it too late if you’re already in a body bag?” I accept the contact drop and put Nat’s number in my faves list.
“Too late for me, but not for you.”
“I’ll be watching you.” Frankie points her fingers at her eyes and then at mine. She says to Natalie, “I’m tracking you. Be careful.”
“I’ll check in later, Mom.” Natalie and Frankie exchange hugs and kisses like one of them is going off on a month-long business trip, not off to dinner.
They’re cute. I text Kaden.
I’m standing ten feet from your girl
He responds immediately.
The fuck?
You should have come with me tonight
Fuck you
I don’t reply, but he follows it up with another text.
Whats she wearing
Wait get me her number
I’ll let you win the next round of poker
Let me win?
I’ll throw a hand
“Frankie, Kaden’s begging for your phone number. If you don’t give it to me, he may start crying, and I’m not equipped to handle that.” When she wrinkles her nose, I say, “Let me give you his number. You can reach out if you want.” I send her the contact, which she accepts, and then I text Kaden.
Gave her your number. Have fun waiting for a text
I may kill you the next time I see you
You’re welcome
I turn my phone off and hold my hand out to Natalie. “Ready?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
“The Plate.” I haven’t called Brooks, but I know he’ll fit us in.
Natalie’s eyebrows shoot up. “That place is impossible to get into.”
“There’s a table in the kitchen. If it’s full, Brooks will put us there.”
“You know Chef Brooks?” Frankie’s mouth is half-open.
“Yeah, and so does Kaden. He’ll take you there if you text him.” I take Natalie’s hand and lead her across the street. “Thanks for not kicking me in the balls for following you here.”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she admits.
“You’re giving me a chance.” I open the passenger door and help her inside.
“You were dating someone like five minutes earlier.”
“Technically, Julie dumped me at least a month ago, maybe two.” I shut the door.
“There should be at least six months between each relationship,” Natalie informs me when I climb into the driver’s seat.
“What happens if we break these unwritten dating rules?”
“The relationship is doomed, then. Bad juju around it.”
“Can we burn some sage and call it a day?” I swing out into traffic.
“I’m not fully up on Wiccan theology, so I don’t know, but I’m guessing that a simple herb burning can’t get rid of negative auras.”
“Two smart lawyers like us should be able to figure out a solution. It’s a good thing we’re having dinner. We can map out a battle plan to fight any resistant forces.”