Free Because of You by Rochelle Alers

whereabouts.”
    â€œWho the hell works on New Year’s?”
    â€œDoctors, cops, bus drivers—”
    â€œYeah, yeah, yeah,” Raymond intoned, cutting him off. “Just keep watching him. Let me know if you need more resources. ”
    â€œI’m good for now,” Donald replied.
    He ended the call, pushing the cell phone into the pocket of his down-filled jacket. Blowing on his hands, he rubbed them together to generate heat. He’d forgotten his gloves—again. Standing and pushing his stiff fingers into the pockets of the baggy wide wale corduroy, he waited for the traffic light to change before crossing the street to wait for the bus to take him back uptown.
    Â 
    Jordan drove along Adam Clayton Powell Jr Boulevard, then turned on 121st Street. If he hadn’t called the garage to have his car ready, he would’ve either walked or taken a taxi to the office. Walking from 98th and Fifth to 121st Street was a workout.
    Three boyhood friends who’d pooled their resourcesto purchase the three-story brownstone had set up their practices on each floor. Kyle Chatham, his former mentor and senior law partner, occupied the second floor. Financial planner Duncan Gilmore’s offices spanned the first floor, and psychotherapist Dr. Ivan Campbell counseled patients on the third floor of the nineteenth-century landmark structure that had been renovated for business use.
    Miraculously, he found a parking space, maneuvering up to the tree-lined curb. He got out, locked the door and bounded up the staircase to the front door. Brass plates affixed to the side of the building indicated the location of each business.
    Jordan unlocked the front door and punched in the code to disarm the security system. He reset it and walked past the elevator in the entryway and into the reception area furnished with comfortable leather seating, a wall-mounted flat-screen television and potted plants. Whenever the office was open during the winter months, a fire roared in the huge fireplace.
    The soles of his shoes made soft squishing sounds on the marble floor when he made his way to the staircase. It wasn’t until he’d exited the last stair that he was aware he wasn’t the only one in the building. The sound of music floated down the hallway from the conference room.
    Walking past his office, he stopped at the open door. Kyle Chatham sat at the conference table amid stacks of law books and legal pads. A pullover sweater, jeans and boots replaced his tailored suits.
    â€œHappy New Year, Chat.”
    Kyle’s head popped up, his eyes growing wider when he saw Jordan standing in the doorway. “Happy New Year to you, too. What the hell are you doing here?” It wasn’toften that he saw Jordan unshaven. “You look a little green around the gills.”
    â€œChampagne and shots are a lethal combination.”
    â€œWhat’s up with the frat boy antics?”
    Jordan shook his head. “Don’t ask.”
    â€œBut I am asking, partner. I don’t remember ever seeing you overindulge.”
    Crossing his arms over his chest, Jordan angled his head. His partner and former mentor was quintessentially tall, dark and handsome. Women were drawn to his angular face with chiseled cheekbones, deep-set, slanting, catlike, warm brown eyes and close-cropped black hair with a sprinkling of gray. He and his fiancée, Ava Warrick, were to be married in Puerto Rico the next month.
    â€œBrandt and some of his boys started challenging one another, so I had to get my cousin’s back.”
    â€œThat’s when you should’ve bailed, Jordan. You know you can’t hang with those guys. They’re twice your size and have hollow legs.”
    â€œI discovered that when I woke up this morning.”
    â€œWhy, then, are you here instead of sleeping it off?” Kyle asked.
    â€œI came to look up some decisions on workplace harassment for a friend.” His cousin had