Free Broken Road Café 1 - The Broken Road Café by T.A. Webb Page A

property. I have a solid offer, fifty-fifty cash and financing, and on top of that, I have three residential properties I want to look at this afternoon, ‘cause I’ll be wanting a house in the area too. So, do I wait for a call back in the next half hour, or do I call Jan Barnes Realty over on Main Street and see what he can do for me?”
There was a long pause. “Oh, you are an evil little man, aren’t you, Dan O’Leary? Butter wouldn’t melt in that pretty little mouth of yours, would it? Well, sit yourself by the phone and let me call Bill and Adele and I’ll get back to you. Oh, and sweetie?”
“Yes, angel?”
“I’m tied up this afternoon, but if you fax the property listings up with that offer, I’ll see if I can’t give you the keys to go look for yourself. After all, a high-priced Atlanta attorney like yourself can be trusted up here in little old Patsy’s town, can’t you?
“Nice doing business with you, Madam Mayor.”
“Yeah, and don’t you forget it.”
The line went dead, and Dan chuckled. He gathered up the offer he was faxing over as well as the property listings he wanted to see and placed them in his fax machine. Dialing in Patsy’s number, he hit send and felt a thrill go through his body.
He was doing this. By God, he was, the good lord willing and the creeks don’t rise, as his grandmother used to say, going to leave Atlanta, buy a restaurant, and join small town life.
Within fifteen minutes, his phone rang. Without even looking, he hit the speaker button. “Dan O’Leary.”
“You know, you could’ve at least let it ring like, five times, and pretended that you were playing hard to get.”
Dan blinked. “Charity?”
“None other than, boss man. How’s unemployed life treating you?
Settling back in his chair, Dan smiled. “Nothing better. No clients, no meetings with partners. No asshats breathing down my neck.”
“Sounds like heaven. Listen, scuttlebutt around the salt mines today is your boy Greggie is upset. Like, major league. Something to do with the Delgado case. I was advised by a mutual friend that your name was bandied about at the partners’ meeting this morning, and how they are supposed to try to get you back for the trial. Evidently”—and her voice went very soft—“the client wants a partner on the hook, according to Davonna. As in, if the client goes down, so does the partner. Sounds like a load of…well. A lady doesn’t use those words, but you know what I mean.”
Dan frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “That sounds like some Al Pacino, ‘say hello to my little friend’ crap to me. Seriously?”
“Look, I’m just relaying to you what Davonna told me to. She’s your goomba now?” They shared a laugh, then Charity’s voice went serious again. “But really, Dan, have you ever known her to be wrong, or to screw with you? There’s something that just doesn’t smell right here. I don’t trust Greg Simkins any further than I can spit him, and since he’s not getting within a mile of my mouth for any reason, that’s not very far.”
“Do me a favor and keep your ears open, okay? Don’t do anything to get yourself in trouble, but I trust Davonna. Oh, and Charity? Before you hear it from anyone else, Abe and I are history. The little buttweasel we were just talking about? He and Abe have been knocking boots for the past few months.”
There was silence on the line, and Dan thought he lost the connection. He was about to hit the redial button when her voice came back. “Knocking boots? Dan, honey, you barely tan. Remember when you went to the beach last time and burned, and it all peeled off and you just looked like a scaly lobster boy? You aren’t gangsta. Please don’t use words like that.” He started to sputter and laugh, not sure whether to be offended or laugh his ass off. “Now, that does explain the rumor mill around here. The secretary pool was at the water fountain, and that little Jackie O wannabe