Maybe

48

MIRANDA AND I touch down in Santa Monica, California. I’ve reserved a suite in the same location on the beach where I stayed nearly four years ago. It’s a beautiful hotel, brand new, what they call a boutique hotel.

The old hotel got blown up while I was in it! I found out about the bomb just before it detonated. I actually had to jump off the second floor balcony to escape.

You may have read about it.

My future associate, Miranda, loves the place. Although she agreed to work for me, she refuses to start until next June, a year from now.

Why?

She wants to finish school, then travel to Europe for several months with her friend.

No, not a guy.

Her girl friend.

No, not a female lover.

A friend.

Yes, I’m certain, because I asked her the same questions. I also spent two hours trying to talk her out of going. Then I spent an hour trying to talk her into letting me come with her instead of her friend.

But no.

“At least let me visit you in Europe,” I asked. “We’ll have dinner.”

“No,” she said. “I’m already giving up my dream of running my own practice to work for you. And don’t think for a minute I don’t know how you operate!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means working for you won’t be a nine to five job. It’ll be an all-hours-of-the-night job, and one that will ruin any chance I have of living a normal life. I’ve worked my ass off to get these degrees, and I’m not going to jump into a twenty-four-seven job until I’ve done something fun for myself.”

“You’d rather be with your friend than me?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“Donovan, you sound like a ten-year-old.”

“You’ve always encouraged me to express my feelings.”

“Look, I love being with you, and hope you’ll let me give you the best two days of your life, starting right now. But if you bring this up one more time, I’m going to book the next flight back to New York, and I’ll never work for you.”

“Okay. Sorry. You know about my abandonment issues.”

“I do.”

I sigh. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m jealous, though.”

“I know.”

The two days went by as fast as perfect days always do. I won’t tell you how many times we laughed, or made love, or what we talked about, or how many drinks we had. I will say the hotel lounge has a wonderful house band, and Miranda shocked me by getting up on stage and singing a beautiful song called Someone Like You, by someone named Adele.

What shocked me was how amazing Miranda’s voice is! I mean, I’ve never heard anyone sing like that! Her voice was powerful when power was needed, but tender and haunting the rest of the time.

I’m serious, she was spectacular!

By the time she finished her song, everyone in the room was on their feet, cheering, with tears streaming down their faces! If Adele’s version is half as good as Miranda’s, well, she’ll probably have a hit on her hands.

On Friday, Sal calls with the news about Dani Ripper’s interrogation.

“The lead detective’s a guy named Marco Polomo.”

“Is he from Cincinnati or Nashville?”

“Nashville. They interrogated her on Tuesday.”

“I saw on TV where she’s back at your niece’s house.”

“Right. There’s a million cops and reporters surrounding the place. Cops are actually living inside the friggin’ house.”

“Today’s the funeral?”

“It was this morning. They’re probably back in Nashville by now.”

“What’s Polomo saying?”

“He’s one of my guys on the inside. He’s managed to keep Sophie out of it, but like you guessed, the FBI’s coming in on Monday.”

“Do they know who’s investigating?”

“Guy named Agent Chase. They don’t know his first name, but Polomo’s shitting his pants because I told him I want Dani cleared and he says there’s nothing he can do at this point.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently the Cincinnati police have found a bunch of evidence that-whatcha call-implicates Dani. And Polomo’s concerned if they get Dani, they’ll find a way to pull Sophie into it because of her police record.”

“Sophie’s got a police record?”

“Sort of. It’s been-whatcha call-expunged, but it’s still there for those who know how to look.”

“What did she do?”

“She, you know, fell in with the wrong crowd. It’s not important. She’s a good girl. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll take care of it.”

“You’ll talk to the president?”

“I’ll get him the message.”

“What if he won’t play ball?”

“He’ll play.”

“You got something on him?”

“Nope.”

“Then how do you know he’ll cooperate?”

“He fears me.”

“Smart man, our president. I always said so.”

“You like him?”

“I voted for him twelve times. So did all my people.”

“Twelve times?”

“In the same election.”