Читать книгу Places In My Heart - Sheryl Lister - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe next Monday morning, Morgan checked and double-checked to make sure she had all the files needed for her meeting with the Sandersons’ attorney. Brandon, her father and Mr. Whitcomb, her father’s best friend and a minor partner in the company, would be joining them. Mr. Whitcomb—whom they affectionately called Uncle Thad—and Morgan’s father had served together in the military, where Mr. Whitcomb sustained a serious injury. Disappointed by the lack of services for his disabled friend, her dad and started designing accessibility products in their home garage. Now their in-home safety company was one of the largest in the country.
Walking to the outer office, she stopped at her assistant’s desk. “Evelyn, can you make sure the coffee and tea is set up in the small conference room, please?”
Evelyn came to her feet in a huff. “Yes, Ms. Gray,” she said with a sarcastic smile.
Morgan silently counted to ten. Something had to give with this woman, and soon.
Brandon was already in the conference room when she arrived. “Hey, big brother.”
“Hey. Ready?”
“Yep. I just hope Mr. Porter keeps his smart-aleck comments to himself this time.” Several minutes later, she went over to the table where Evelyn had set up the coffee service and made a cup of mint tea. Whenever she felt nervous or stressed, the tea always calmed her.
“Well, I’m sure with Dad, Uncle Thad and me here, he won’t try it today.”
“It shouldn’t have to be this way in the first place.”
“True, but you already knew the kind of opposition you’d face when you decided to become an attorney.”
Before Morgan could reply, her father and Uncle Thad entered the conference room. “Morning, Dad, Uncle Thad.”
“Morning, baby,” her father said.
Uncle Thad rolled his wheelchair over to where Morgan sat and smiled. “Good morning, Morgan.”
Moments later, Mr. Porter was escorted in by one of the assistants. The fifty-something-year-old attorney had a slight build, a few gray strands peppering his short, dark brown hair and still wore that self-righteous smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Porter,” Morgan said and made introductions. “You’ve met Brandon already. There are coffee and tea on the table if you’d like to pour yourself a cup before we get started.” She gestured to the table. Obviously the man hadn’t expected her show of authority, if his expression was any indication. She smiled inwardly.
Mr. Porter got coffee and came back to the table. “Good to see you here this morning, Mr. Gray. I’m certain we’ll be able to make some real progress this time.”
Brandon slanted Morgan a look that said, Is this guy for real?
“As I told Ms. Gray at our initial meeting, and I’m sure you all will agree, it would be in the best interest of your company if we settled this matter out of court. I don’t have to remind you of the injuries my client suffered and the long-term care she’ll require. The stress is wearing on the Sandersons, and they’re anxious to have this settled.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Porter, we will make a decision once we review all the evidence,” Morgan said. “I’ve left messages at your office three times requesting the defective shower rail and packaging and have yet to receive a return call. Since you’re here, we can schedule a time right now. I’m free next Wednesday at nine or Friday at eleven, or the following Tuesday at three. These are also the available dates provided by the third-party company you suggested. I took the liberty of hiring them in anticipation of our meeting today. Which one works best for you?” She pulled up the calendar on her iPad. “Either of those dates works for me.” Morgan glanced at Brandon.
“Works for me.”
Both her father and uncle nodded their agreement.
Morgan shifted her attention back to the lawyer. “Mr. Porter?” She smiled. “You mentioned that your clients are anxious to have the matter settled, and we agree.”
“Well, I... I need to check with my secretary first.” He looked downright uncomfortable.
“By all means.” She rose and slid the telephone in front of him. “We can wait.”
Mr. Porter reluctantly picked up the receiver and made the call. “Wednesday at nine,” he muttered after hanging up.
“Great. Once we inspect the rail and run some tests—”
Mr. Porter leaned forward. “Tests?”
“Yes. Your clients claim that the rail broke. We want to know why, as I’m sure you do.”
“Ah, yes, yes. Well, if there’s nothing else, I have another meeting. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“Dad, do you have anything you want to add?”
“No. I think you’ve covered everything. Thad?”
“I’m satisfied.”
“As am I,” Brandon said.
“Then we’re adjourned,” Morgan said, rising to her feet. She walked around the table and extended her hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Porter. I look forward to seeing you next Wednesday.”
He stood and gave her hand a brief shake, then gathered up his papers and made a hasty exit.
Morgan closed the door behind him and turned back to the table. “Well?”
“I’m proud of the way you handled yourself, baby girl,” her father said. “Excellent job. I think Mr. Porter will think twice before he underestimates you again.”
Uncle Thad chuckled. “Nolan, I think you’re right.”
“Thanks,” she said. After the two men left, she turned to Brandon. “I expected you to say more.”
“I didn’t need to. I enjoyed that little show. Girl, you grilled him with a smile. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks. The way he’s trying to rush this through makes me think something isn’t right with their story.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Brandon pushed to his feet. “But I know you’ll get to the bottom of it. Been meaning to ask how you like working for the company.”
Morgan shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m just not sure this is where I want to work long-term.”
“But you’re good at it. You’re not still thinking about that whole sports agent thing, are you? If you are, you might want to get a few years of legal experience first.”
She didn’t comment. No way would she tell him about Omar or the fact that she’d taken and passed the certification test to become an agent earlier in the year.
“Look, I know you love football, and I’m not saying you couldn’t make it as a sports agent. I just don’t see a lot of male athletes taking you seriously, and I don’t want you to get your feelings hurt.”
“Well, we’ll just wait and see. Right now I’m concentrating on this case. See you around.” She gathered up her folders and walked out.
Later, Morgan sat at her desk checking Omar’s stats and salary from the previous year. As a tight end, his salary cap was much lower than that of a wide receiver. But when one of the receivers was injured last season, Omar had stepped in and played the position so well, that he’d earned the nickname End Zone Drummond. His numbers were second only to those of the team’s star receiver, Marcus Dupree. Colin Rush was still questionable for the first half of the upcoming season, which would leave the team weak on the left side. She smiled. She’d just found her negotiating point.
When she talked to Omar tomorrow evening, she would share her thoughts. Automatically her mind went back to the kiss she couldn’t seem to forget. She shook her head. “No kisses. Just the contract, Morgan,” she muttered under her breath. The headache she’d gone through with her pro basketball boyfriend should make it easy to keep things strictly business with Omar, especially since his reputation with women mirrored that of her cheating ex. So no matter how delicious she thought his kisses were, there would be no more.
* * *
Tuesday, Omar first had a meeting with the group of people who had been selected to assist him in opening a mental center for veterans and their families. With so little resources, the service was sorely needed. Nine people sat on the board—veterans, family members of veterans, a psychologist and medical doctor. By the time the meeting ended, he had been talked into serving as the keynote speaker for the upcoming fund-raiser this weekend to replace the original woman who needed to leave town to take care of her ailing mother.
Afterward Omar had to rush to get to his appointment with Jaedon Dupree. Once there, he took the elevator in the Wilshire District office building and exited on the fifth floor. He crossed the plush carpet to the receptionist desk and greeted the woman sitting there with a smile.
“Good afternoon. My name is Omar Drummond. I have an appointment with Jaedon Dupree for two-thirty.”
She pushed a button, spoke through a headset and then nodded. “Go through these doors, turn right and you’ll see his assistant’s desk at the end of the hallway.”
“Thank you.” Omar followed her instructions and was greeted by another young woman.
“Hello, Mr. Drummond. Mr. Dupree is finishing up with a call. Please have a seat and he’ll be with you in just a minute.”
He nodded and glanced down at her nameplate. “Thank you, Ms. Ford.” He sat in one of the three chairs, picked up a food magazine and flipped through the pages. Omar made a mental note to stop by his brother’s house later to check on him. Rashad had been working in their family’s restaurant helping out with stock since his discharge from the Army, and Omar hadn’t talked to him in almost two weeks.
“Mr. Drummond?”
His head came up.
“Mr. Dupree will see you now.”
Omar tossed the magazine on the table, stood and followed her into a large office.
“Thank you, Yvonne.” Jaedon Dupree bore a startling resemblance to his brother, Marcus, and matched Omar in height and size. He came around his desk and extended his hand. “End Zone Drummond. Good to see you again, man.”
He grinned. “Same here.”
Jaedon gestured to a leather chair. “Have a seat.”
He lowered himself into the offered chair. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I know you’re busy.”
“No problem. What’s going on?”
Omar handed Jaedon the large envelope. “I need you to represent me in a lawsuit against my agent.”
Jaedon narrowed his eyes and pulled out the stack of papers. “Your agent is Roland Foster, right?”
He nodded.
“These are the same contract.”
“Until you get to the flagged pages.” He leaned over and pointed. “This is the copy Roland gave me to sign, and this one,” he said, indicating the other copy, “is the original one from the watch company.”
“So he siphoned seventy-five thousand off the top, plus his percentage.”
“Exactly. He did the same thing with two others of my endorsements. Another seventy-five off the body wash one and half a mil from the sports drink.” When Omar first saw that seventy-five-thousand-dollar difference, it had taken every ounce of his control not to storm over to Roland’s house and beat the man to a pulp. He’d found out about the alteration when he ran into one of the executives he had met with at the watch company. The man congratulated him on the multimillion dollar contract with a number considerably higher than Omar remembered signing. And when asked, had provided Omar with another copy of the original contract.
Jaedon shook his head. “When’s your contract up?”
“A month and a half. But he won’t be negotiating it.”
“I haven’t seen anything in the news about you firing him, and I know that would’ve made the news.”
“Because I haven’t yet. I wanted to talk to you first and see if you would take the case.”
“I will. Do you need some references for another agent? I know a few reputable guys.”
“No. I already have one. Morgan Gray.”
“I’ve never heard of him.”
Omar chuckled. “That’s because he’s a she and I’m her first client. She’s Malcolm Gray’s twin sister.”
Recognition dawned. “The attorney working for their family’s company?”
“Yes.”
Jaedon frowned. “Isn’t she kind of young? If I remember correctly, she’s only two or three years out of law school.”
“She is. But she knows football, and I don’t want to deal with anyone connected to league politics. My first agent negotiated a one-year deal so bad I probably could have made more working in a fast-food restaurant. After that, when my ex-girlfriend forged my name on some reality TV deal she was trying to get, my second agent was nowhere to be found. He didn’t back my claims of not knowing anything about the deal and tried to get me to consider doing the show. My guess, it was because of the dollar amount he figured he’d get. And now Roland.” He shook his head. “I’m done.”
“I didn’t know all that. Do you think Morgan will be able to handle herself with team management?”
“I admit that it has crossed my mind, but I’m not too concerned about it.” In fact, that was the least of Omar’s worries.
“But...” When Omar didn’t respond, a slow grin made its way over Jaedon’s face. “But you’re attracted to her.”
“Yeah.”
“It might not be—”
Omar held up a hand. “She’s already set the ground rules.”
He laughed. “Which means it’s not one-sided. I’ve met Morgan. She’s a beautiful woman. Let me know how that works out for you.”
“Sounds like you’re in the same boat. Someone in your office?”
“No. The personal chef I just hired. Anyway, when are you going to call Roland?”
“As soon as I leave here.”
“Good. I’ll get the ball rolling. I’ve met Roland, and I don’t think he’s going to take this lying down. Are you prepared for media?”
“I am.” In reality it was the last thing he wanted, especially with the fund-raiser coming up this weekend. But he’d deal with it. He stood. “Thanks for everything, Jaedon.”
Jaedon followed suit. “No problem. I’ll let you know when he’s been served so you can be prepared.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“By the way, Marcus told me about the mental health center you’re trying to open. It’s a good thing. I’ll be there on Saturday.”
“I’ll be glad for the support.” The two men shook hands, and Omar headed back down to the garage where his car was parked. He slid behind the wheel, pulled out his cell and called Roland. Just the mere thought of the man spiked Omar’s anger all over again. But the sooner he ended the relationship, the better he’d be, mentally and financially.
“I’ve been trying to call you for the past two and a half weeks,” Roland started in before Omar could say a word. “We need to jump on this deal with Apple. I can’t keep putting them off.”
He knew that deal would most likely net a lucrative contract, but Roland wouldn’t be handling it. If Apple was serious and things worked out with Morgan, maybe he’d ask her to negotiate the contract. He felt certain she would be honest in her dealings.
“So I need you to get over here and—”
“Roland,” Omar interrupted. “I won’t be coming by your office tonight or ever. We’re done.”
There was a slight pause, then Roland said, “What the hell do you mean, we’re done? After all I’ve done for you. You would’ve never been able to negotiate a deal to become one of the highest paid tight ends had it not been for me. You need me, Drummond.”
“Are you sure it’s not the other way around?”
The agent went silent for a moment. “Exactly what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m opting out of my contract.”
“You can’t do that to me,” he yelled.
“Sure I can. Remember that clause that says either of us can terminate the contract if the other doesn’t live up to the agreement? You haven’t, so I’m exercising that option. You’ll be hearing from my attorney.” Roland’s curses filled Omar’s ear as Omar ended the call. He blew out a long breath and felt a weight being lifted off his chest. He smiled, started the engine and drove across town to his brother and sister-in-law’s house.
He was relieved to see his brother’s truck parked in the driveway. Every so often something would trigger some sort of flashback for Rashad and he’d disappear for hours, sometimes days. And when he returned, looked as if he’d been sleeping on the streets. Six months ago, after much discussion, Rashad had allowed Omar to buy him a small trailer where he could go when he needed time alone. So far it had worked out and made it easier on his wife and children, as well as the rest of their family.
“Uncle Omar!”
His twelve-year-old niece, Brianna, flew off the porch and across the grass before Omar could close the car door. It seemed like she had added another inch or two to her slender frame since he’d seen her last and, with her smooth mocha skin, dark eyes and wide smile, was a mini replica of her beautiful mother. She launched herself at him as soon as he rounded the fender, and he scooped her up and swung her around. Setting her gently on her feet, he placed a kiss on her temple. “How’s my favorite niece?” he asked with a grin.
“I’m your only niece,” she answered with a playful roll of her eyes. “I’m good.”
“You enjoying your summer break?” he asked as they strolled up the walk.
“Yes and no.”
“What’s the problem?”
“There’s nothing to do...except the stupid report Mom makes us write. I want to take a dance class, but she said I’d have to wait awhile.”
“Well, that report is important.” His librarian sister-in-law made his niece and nephew write a Black history report every summer, saying they couldn’t know where they were going unless they knew where they’d been. “As far as the dance class, you keep doing what you’re supposed to and I’m sure your mom will let you take one.” Omar held open the screen door.
Brianna pouted and mumbled, “I guess.”
He shook his head and followed her into the house. His ten-year-old nephew, Rashad Jr., was in his usual spot in front of the television, playing some video game. Omar playfully rubbed his head. “What’s up, little man?”
“Hey, Uncle O,” Rashad Jr. said without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Where’s your mom?” he asked Brianna.
“In the kitchen,” she called over her shoulder and veered off down a hallway.
He continued to the kitchen. “Hey, Serena.”
“Omar,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel and coming over to hug him. “How are you?”
“Good. What about you?” He studied her pained expression.
“Yesterday, not so great. But today is better.”
He nodded, knowing she was talking about his brother. “Anything you need me to do?”
“No. But you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want. Rashad asked for fried chicken, so that’s what I’m making.”
“You know I never turn down your fried chicken. Where is he?”
“Outside in the backyard.”
Omar went out the sliding glass door off the kitchen and spotted his brother sitting on the grass beneath a large shade tree.
“Hey, little brother,” Rashad called.
“Hey.”
Rashad smiled. “Serena call you because I had a bad day yesterday?”
“No. I didn’t know you had one. How’s today?”
He shrugged. “Better, I guess.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“Had one of those stupid shrink sessions. The man acted like he had somewhere he needed to be. Kept checking his watch every five minutes, then asked if we could call it a day.” He slanted Omar a glance. “Fifteen minutes into the session. Made me upset. I’m not going back. Tired of being treated like I’m nobody.”
Omar sighed inwardly. This was the second psychiatrist Rashad had seen. It had taken several months for him to receive the service. The first one only wanted to prescribe medication, to which his brother was adamantly opposed, and the current one had a habit of canceling or shortening appointments. It was even more reason why he wanted to open the center. He started to speak and his cell rang. Not wanting to interrupt his brother now that he was opening up, he let it ring.
“You going to answer that?”
“I can call whoever it is back later.”
Rashad shook his head. “Answer your phone, Mr. Psychologist. This isn’t a counseling session.”
Omar chuckled and dug the cell out of his pocket. He went still upon seeing Morgan’s name on the display. “Hey, Morgan.”
“Hi, Drummond. Is this a good time to talk?”
“What’s up?”
“I just wanted to see how your meeting with Jaedon Dupree went.”
“It went well. Can I call you later? I’m talking to my brother.”
“Of course. Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“Your call is important.”
“Drummond, I thought we—”
“Relax, Morgan. I just meant as far as our business is concerned.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll be home around nine, if that’s not too late for you.”
Omar smiled. Back to business. “No. I’ll call you around nine-thirty.” Rashad was staring at him with a silly grin on his face when Omar hung up. “What?”
“Baby brother’s got a new girl. It’s been a while.”
This was the brother he remembered and grew up with. At thirty-four and six years Omar’s senior, Rashad had taught him everything he knew about women. Omar had idolized his big brother and tried to emulate his every move, from his walk and the way he talked to his smooth reputation when it came to the ladies. “I don’t have a new girl. Just a new agent.”
“This I have got to hear.”
They shared a smile, and Omar filled him in on what had led up to him firing Roland and hiring Morgan.
Later, after arriving home, he decided to shower first. Then he’d call Morgan to let her know about his conversation with Jaedon and invite her to be his date for the fund-raiser. Now that he’d fired Roland, he was free to be seen with her in public and wanted to introduce her as his new agent. He only hoped he’d be able to keep his hands off her.
