Southern Justice, Part 32
I’m Fixin’ To present part 32 of Southern Justice:
Patty Osborn’s old Honda putted through the Saturday night traffic as Chris Adams gave directions. Chris could tell she was embarrassed about the old jalopy, however, there was no way he could allow his own car to be seen at Hormel’s office. He felt sure that if she had known her car was going to be their transportation, she would have changed the pumpkin into a carriage. In an attempt to put her at ease he searched for her hand this time. It worked.
When they entered the Pic-Ric Products complex, he directed her to his personal parking space. After she pulled the car to a halt Chris asked, “Would you like to see where I work–the place is empty right now?”
“I sure would,” she replied.
Chris neutralized the alarm system and used his key, then led her down the dim hallway to his open office door. The only light was his desk lamp, which he had purposely left on. It cast a soft glow about the room.
Dropping into his office chair Chris began shuffling papers, then patted the corner of his desk and invited, “Here, have a seat.”
When she did the little black dress slid midway up her thighs. Chris was staring at them in awe when she said, “Do you have a girl friend?”
“Uh, no, not really.”
“What about the stripper, the one at the Gentlemen’s Club? I’ve heard that you go there on a regular basis and that you date a stripper,” Patty announced to him.
Chris became very alert and asked, “How did you hear information like that?”
“Actually I overheard it, when Jackie and B. Wendell were talking about all you guys.”
“Maybe you can tell me other things you’ve overheard from them?”
“Maybe,” Patty said barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to go there anymore, you know.”
“Chris was confused. “Go where anymore?” he asked.
“That strip club. If you wanted to look at a woman you could do that right here.”
It only took Chris one long moment to realize and react. After easing Patty off his desk, with one long sweep of his arm he cleared the desk. Paper, legal folders, calculator, phone, stapler, paperweights, lamp, everything, crashed to the floor.
“You okay?” Chris whispered later.
“I’m wonderful,” Patty whispered back. “But I was wondering how you got all those scratches—not the ones on your back, the ones on your neck?”
“Oh, I, uh, was doing some landscaping and fell into a bush,” Chris told her, surprised when he discovered that he did not like lying to her anymore.
At dinner they both ate like Trojan warriors. Afterward, while they sipped coffee and talked, Chris asked, “Why? Why the note, why me, why everything?”
Patty reached for his hand and said, “You met the qualifications, the ones I needed in a man. I don’t mean to sound so pragmatic, it’s just that I have sacrificed a lot over the years to achieve my goals. Okay, finally I became a lawyer, but I looked around and realized I had no life. Then, yesterday afternoon, I looked up and there you were. And then after your performance in the conference room I knew you were the one!”
Chris grinned and said, “You liked the way I handled Mister Hormel’s security man?”
“Liked it! I got all tingly watching you. So, are you happy about all this?” Patty asked.
“I think I’m beginning to be very happy,” Chris told her. “But just one more question, was the main reason of your new look to seduce me?”
It was Patty’s turn to grin when she said, “You guessed it. I knew your only interest in me was to get information and I probably misled you with the note. I suppose I tricked you.”
“It certainly worked, and I’m so glad it did,” Chris said as he secretly thought, I’m still very much interested in getting information.
The restaurant Chris had purposely chosen for dinner was in the same mall where he had parked the night before he reconnoitered Hormel’s office.
When they left it and were buckled up in Patty’s car he said, “Say, if I remember correctly, your office is just a street over from here!”
(tmdunagan@aol.com)