The numerous hanging candle chandeliers in “Le Coucou” restaurant cast a mellow glow on the glasses. The romantic ambience in the French restaurant in Soho had impressed Michelle as well as the board members. For James though, the total absence of any media representatives in and around the establishment was far more significant. He couldn’t stand nosey reporters. Being seen with an artist like Michelle would invite too many uncomfortable questions and speculations. The last thing he needed was the media snooping around in his life.

Michelle did not resemble, at all, the loud, provocative girl who had been drawing all kinds of wrong attention to herself. On the contrary, her conversations were quiet and her red, ankle-long dress revealed little. She appeared to value the fact that she had just signed a contract with a very prestigious record company, and kept repeating to James that she was willing to put the past behind her. However, she still did not convince him. Michelle had caused a mess less than 24 hours earlier.

“People don’t change overnight. I doubt they even change at all. Not for the better, anyway. Oh, what the hell… Let’s just have dinner and go home.”

Less than fifteen minutes into their dinner, James noticed somebody painfully familiar: the man, who had bribed Olivia, was sitting at a table down the row of tables and to the right, accompanied by a middle-aged woman and another couple. Regretting his decision to go out, he poked Rick in the ribs with his elbow.

“Two o’clock.” He said, casting a razor-sharp glance at the man in question. “Isn’t that the guy from the video?”

“Shit.” Rick hummed. “Yeah, that’s him alright. Keep it together, man. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Do we have a name?” James asked, gripping the table cloth.

“Walter Parish. He’s their vice president.” Rick replied. “Be cool.”

“I’m just waiting for the right moment.” James maintained, sensing a light touch on his right shoulder.

“How’s my songwriter doing?” Michelle said, smiling up at him. “Is he having fun yet?”

“Not really.” James murmured, unwilling to face her, watching as Parish stole glances at a voluptuous, brunette waitress. “I’m just waiting for the night to be over.”

“Always blunt,” she remarked, squeezing him lightly. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about what happened over at my uncle’s house. You were right. I had the wrong attitude.”

“It’s not about me being right, Michelle,” James waved his hand in front of his face. “You can’t accuse all men and then sing love songs.”

“Anyway, I promise to be a good girl from now on,” she stated. “No more twerking crap, no more twitter, no more craziness.”

“That’s good to hear,” James spoke, noticing the brunette waitress heading towards a narrow, somewhat dark hallway across from his table. The overhead sign read:

“Employee Restroom”

At that moment, Parish got up from his seat, turned around and started towards that same hallway.

“Bad mistake,” James thought to himself.

“Excuse me,” he said, rising to his imposing, 6’3” stature.

“Got a soft tooth for waitresses, you little prick? You’re going to pay for this…”

Despite his fuming rage, James had to be smart. A possible confrontation with the man – who had masterminded the entire chain of events to try and destroy him – in a public place could only get him into trouble.

He heard two voices become louder, as he got closer to the bathroom. James pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and stopped, just a few inches away from the doorframe and then snuck a peek. The waitress was trying to open the bathroom door. Parish was right behind her. The aging executive reached his arm around and groped the young woman.

“Get your hands off me!” She cried, flipping around to face him.

“Come on…” Parish smirked. “Five hundred bucks for a blowjob. What do you say?”

“Clear out.” James grumbled, tensing his jaw, as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Now, who the fuck are you?” Parish groaned as he turned to face him, the terrified waitress took the opportunity to brush past him.

James did not speak. He took a big step closer to Parish, clenching his fists. Abruptly throwing his right arm, he rotated it in mid-air and laid a thundering punch in Parish’s eye, sending him ten feet across the narrow hallway. He landed hard on his back, banging the back of his head against the floor, groaning in pain. James rushed towards him and dropped to his knees beside him, blood pounding through his veins.

“Let me jog your memory.” He snarled, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, as Parish struggled to focus on his face. “Olivia Ralston. You paid her $50,000 to sleep with me.”

“Jimmy X.” Parish laughed, as his wound oozed with blood: “small world.”

“Why, you motherfucker?” James’ voice rumbled like thunder, as he shook him violently. “Why did you do that?”

“Orders, kid.” Parish spoke in his gravelly voice.

“Orders?!” James yelled, narrowing his eyes at him: “orders from whom?”

“Her.” Parish spoke in a faint tone. “You can punch me all night. I’m not giving you her name.”

James removed his right hand from Parish’s collar. The next jab to the jaw rocked his head back. Before he could open his mouth again though, a faint smile formed on the middle-aged man’s face.

“I’m more afraid of her,” he whispered. “You’re going down for this.”

“Oh, yeah?” James grabbed him by the throat once more. “Go ahead. Sue me. Let’s see what your wife thinks when I send her a picture of you groping that girl.”

“Shit!” Rick cried, stepping into the hallway. “What the hell are you doing? Let him go!”

“This is not over,” James snarled, leaning over the battered man. He got no response. Loosening his grip on Parish’s collar, he rose and stormed out, sensing his heart ready to burst out of his chest.

“More riddles… more questions. I’m losing my mind here. Who is she? Why does she scare the crap out of him? Why did she try to hurt me?”

Just when he was about to leave the hallway, James felt Rick’s thick hand on his wrist.

“Damn it, man!” He gasped. “I said ‘be cool’!”

“That was cool.” James said, looking down at him over his left shoulder, his chest rising up and down. “I could have beaten him a lot worse.”

“What did he say?” Too upset to answer his question, James ran his hand through his hair, exhaling hard.

“I don’t know, Rick.” He shrugged. “I’m done speculating.”