CHAPTER EIGHT
we'd all calmed down, Roger, Jordie, and I spent the rest of the day mapping out a plan of attack. We decided to launch an Internet campaign that would be directed at those who ran with a faster and looser crowd than we'd been used to representing and see what it brought in.
Roger and Jordie had come up with a slogan that was both humorous and serious, even Alma chuckled when she typed up a copy of the flyer that read, "If you've got 99 problems, don't let your lawyer be one of them!". I wasn't sure I agreed with the approach, but since I couldn't come up with a reason why we shouldn't do it – and because I was still smarting from Roger's accusation – I went with the guys and threw myself into the process of attracting more business.
The three of us split up and took separate sections of town where we'd hand out the flyers and make contact with people who'd be likely to send clients our way. My stops were all of the bail bond places on Skid Row. I smiled and handed out flyers and cards as I made it clear that no case was too small and no problem too big for us to handle. The people in the bail bond offices nodded, took the flyers, and then went back to processing the bonds necessary for their clients to get out of jail.
After the fifth less-than-enthusiastic response, I felt let down and knew I needed to change my attitude. So, I drove by the fire station looking for my brother, Teddy. As usual, he was in the kitchen, whipping up dinner.
"Brookie!" he shouted. "Come here and help me stir this pot!"
"Teddy, you know I don't cook," I laughed.
"This isn't technically cooking," he shot back. "It's stirring, there's a difference. Believe me."
"Fine, whatever." I walked over and took the spoon out of his hand as he leaned in and kissed my cheek.
"It's good to see you, Sis," he smiled. "What brings you down to the good old 28?"
"I just wanted to check on you and see what you were doing," I said nonchalantly.
"Mom sent you?" he asked.
"No! I came of my own accord!" I laughed.
"Oooh, such big words for such a little girl!" he teased. "You'd think you were a lawyer or something! Oh wait, you are, aren't you?"
"You're such an ass," I said as I shifted my stance and hip bumped him hard enough to send him shuffling sideways a few steps.
"Watch it, little sis!" he laughed. "I'm working with hot stuff here!"
"What is it you're cooking, anyway?" I asked as I stuck the spoon into the red sauce bubbling on the stove and gave it a few stirs.
"Spaghetti Bolognese!" he said as he focused his attention on a sizzling skillet full of ground beef. The smell was intoxicating, but then, Teddy was an extraordinary cook. He'd been cooking since he was nine. My parents had tried to convince him to open a restaurant, but he'd said that having to do it professionally would take the fun out of something he enjoyed. So he joined the fire department and volunteered to cook for his crew. This made him the single most popular fire fighter in the department. Everyone wanted to work with Teddy Raines. But to me, he was just my annoyingly protective big brother.
"It smells amazing," I said as I continued to stir the sauce that I knew full well didn't need stirring. "You're a genius when it comes to food, Teddy."
"Aw, thanks, Sis," he smiled as he carefully browned the beef, adding a few more herbs and some garlic. "But really, why are you here?"
"Teddy, am I unreasonable?" I asked, barreling into the discussion.
"Define unreasonable," he said.
"I mean, do I have unrealistic expectations of men in my life?" I continued. "Do I crush men under the weight of my expectations?"
"Who fed you that bullshit?" he asked.
"Just someone who was making an observation about why I'm not able to maintain a relationship," I admitted. "I just can't tell if it's true or not."
"Sis, aside from the fact that you're my pesky little kid sister, you're not any more unreasonable than any other human being on the planet," he said. "You just have high expectations because you were raised by two extraordinary individuals who taught you to believe that you have value and worth."
"But does that make it impossible for me to maintain a relationship with a man?" I asked.
"It might," he said as he pulled the skillet off the stove and siphoned off the grease. "But is that such a bad thing? I mean, do you know how many women I've dated who have exceptionally low expectations?"
"No," I said. "How many?"
"Too many," he said as he carefully patted the meat with a paper towel, removing the last bits of grease. Watching Tommy cook was like watching a master painter or sculptor. He did every step with care and focus and that was the reason his food was so intensely delicious. "It's hard to respect a woman who lowers her standards to meet whatever anyone offers her. Gina was the first woman who didn't do that, you know?"
"Is that what you like about her? Her high expectations?" I asked.
"Hell yeah, I love that about her," he said as he carefully folded the brown seasoned beef into the pot I was stirring. The scent wafted upward and I felt dizzy as I inhaled. "She doesn't let me get away with anything, and that inspires me to aim higher and achieve more, but she loves me unconditionally, too. Her thing is that if I try and fail, it's a thousand times better than never trying at all."
"I did not know she was such a motivator," I said as I looked down into the pot and continued stirring.
"Why do you think I took the Lieutenant's exam last winter?" he asked.
"Gina put you up to that?"
"No, she simply told me that if I didn't try, I'd regret it. Because it was obvious to her that I had the skills, intelligence, and experience to make a great Lieutenant," he said. "How could I not try after that glowing appraisal?"
"But you're a total jackass." I grinned into the pot, bracing for what would come next.
"Indeed I am, Sis," he laughed. "Here, put this in the pot, will you?"
"You didn't noogie me," I said surprised that for once in his life my brother had not put me in a half-nelson and rubbed his knuckles into my head.
"I'm on duty," he grinned. "You'll get yours later. Why don't you stay for dinner?"
"I'd love to, but I need to get these flyers out and Mom's expecting me," I said.
"You don't want to see Jake," he said.
"Well, there's that," I nodded.
"He's engaged, you know," Teddy said.
"Yeah, I'd heard that."
"Then you two should be able to sit at opposite ends of the table and not start World War III," he said. "Stay and have dinner with me, please?"
"Hey, that wasn't my fault," I protested. "He started it and finished it. I was just dragged along for the ride."
"Sis, I know," Teddy said as he patted my shoulder. "You give as good as you get."
"Whatever," I grumbled as I stirred a little faster.
"Hey, hey, hey, easy on my sauce," he said as he took the spoon and lifted it to his lips. "Ahhh, the perfect sauce for the perfect noodles!"
"You are such a weirdo when it comes to food," I laughed.
"Never heard you complain about a meal I made," he replied as he turned and pulled the bread out of the oven. "Now, go call the crew to dinner, will you?"
#
" nice," Teddy whispered, as he set the steaming bowls of pasta down on the table and then sat next to me.
"I'll do my best," I said through gritted teeth as I watched Jake Conner take his seat on the other end of the table.
"Hey, Brooke," he called as he helped himself to leafy green salad. "Glad you could join us!"
"Are you now?" I asked and cried out as I felt Teddy's work boot connect with my ankle. "I mean, it's really nice to be here."
"How have you been?" Jake asked. "I hear the law firm is doing well."
"It's a challenge," I admitted. "We're trying to drum up more business right now."
"Hey, that's great!" he said.
"How are you doing?" I asked in a tone that was politer than I felt like being, but the threat of Teddy's boot kept me trying. "I hear you're engaged."
Half the heads at the table snapped up and looked at Jake waiting to hear how he would navigate this minefield.
"Yeah, can you believe it?" he said with a sheepish grin. "Cindy agreed to get hitched."
"No, I'm not surprised at all," I said as I twirled the thick linguini noodles with my fork. "You two were always good at making things happen together."
"Hey, what does that mean?" he said as he grabbed the tongs and put more pasta on his plate. "Pass the sauce?"
"It just means that the two of you have always worked well together," I said, then added, "Even when you weren't together."
"I never fucking cheated on you, Brooke, and you know it!" Jake exploded, tipping the bowl full of sauce as he shot up out of his seat and pounded on the table. "You know I never cheated!"
"Did I say you cheated?" I shouted.
"No, you used your lawyer skills and you implied it," he yelled. "You're always so judgmental and just below the surface where you think you'll never get caught! You've always hated Cindy, and you're still pissed that I moved on and found a way to be happy while you're still so damn...damn...damn miserable!"
I sat at the other end of the table staring at him. He had lashed out and stabbed my soft underbelly with his words. He was right, of course, but I didn't want anyone to know how much his words hurt. Teddy grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed tightly. I knew he knew what was going through my mind, and I also knew that I had to keep my temper under control. I was in his space, the place where he had to live and work. I couldn't afford to let loose and soothe my wounded ego by tearing Jake to pieces. I knew that he had actually cheated on me with Cindy, and he knew it, too. But to explain why I knew meant I'd have to admit that I wasn’t good enough to keep a man and that was something I'd rather have forgotten. Dredging it up here in the firehouse wouldn’t do either of us any good.
"Jake," I said calmly as I stared down at my plate. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we can't sit down and have a nice dinner. I'm sorry that you're still angry with me after all this time. And I'm sorry that you feel I used my lawyer skills to belittle you. I'm sorry."
The guys at the other end of the table gently punched Jake's shoulder and murmured that he should accept my apology. Teddy squeezed my hand harder, and I knew he was grateful that I was making the first move to be civil. Jake looked at the table for a long time before he looked up at me and said, "I don't accept your apology, Brooke. You're a ball-busting bitch and the reality is that you're never ever going to find a man who will love you the way I once loved you. You're going to spend your life being miserable because you are a small, mean, angry woman who likes to make strong men feel weak. So, fuck you."
And with that, Jake turned and stormed out into the truck bay. A couple of the guys followed him and I could hear them yelling at him, but the damage had been done. I looked at Teddy as the tears welled up in my eyes, then I crumpled up my napkin, threw it on the table, grabbed my purse off the counter, and ran out of the station crying. Teddy chased me, yelling my name, but I didn't want his sympathy or, worse, a lecture.
Maybe Jake was right. Maybe I was a miserable, mean woman who couldn't do anything right. I shoved the key into the ignition, cranked the engine, and peeled out of the drive. I had already decided that I needed a stiff drink and some time alone, so I headed straight for Dooley's over on 7th and Olive. If I couldn't fix my problems with words, then I would drown them with alcohol.