I sighed. “Do you remember me telling you about Autumn?”
“Sure. The woman you spent an entire celibate weekend with and fell for because she didn’t give it up and dumped you before you could dump her?”
I rolled my eyes. She sounded like Trent. “That’s not why I liked her. But whatever—I don’t have time to debate it. I still need to bill twelve more hours today, and there’s only six hours left. Anyway, I ran into her.”
“Oh, wow. How’d that go?”
I frowned. “She told me she hadn’t left me her number because she wasn’t looking for more than we had.”
“Ouch.”
I shook my head. “But our chemistry is still there.”
“Sounds like she’s just not into a relationship, then.”
“That’s the thing. She’s seeing someone now.”
“Maybe you caught her when she was going through something.”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Did you get her number anyway?”
I held up the business card still in my hand. “She’s the social worker on a pro bono case for a minor who was arrested. So she gave it to me for business, not exactly because she wants me to take her out.”
“Okay… I’m still lost on where we started this conversation. Is Autumn the woman who’s dating the asshole?”
I nodded.
“You met him? He was with her?”
“No, he wasn’t with her. But I’ve definitely met him.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “She’s dating Blake Dickson.”
Juliette’s eyes narrowed. “The Blake Dickson? Like, as in one of the partners whose vote you need to make partner?”
I blew out a deep breath. “One and the same.”
***
That night, I decided to take a detour on my way home from work. I was a little overdressed for the neighborhood I’d be going to, so I removed my tie and shoved it into my pocket—not that it was going to make me stand out any less as I roamed the streets after I got off the subway.
The looks I got as I walked down the sidewalk were pretty amusing—half the people eyed me like they were considering stealing my wallet, and the other half scattered like cockroaches, assuming the guy in the dark suit was probably a narc.
I found Dario exactly where I’d left him eleven years ago: sitting on his stoop four doors down from where I’d once lived. It was almost eleven o’clock at night, but you wouldn’t know it from all the people hanging around.
“Oh, shit.” He stood and smiled. “What the hell are you wearing? Did you lose a bet?”
We shook hands in a way no one around the office ever did—a series of shakes and bumps ending in a one-shoulder guy hug.
“This is how men who don’t live in the same building as their mothers dress, shit for brains.”
He shook his head. I was just busting chops, and he knew it. Dario had never left because his mother refused to leave the apartment she’d been in for more than forty years. She was confined to a wheelchair, and he would always stick close to take care of her.
He looked around at his buddies, most of whom I’d never seen before. “Anyone got a hankie? My boy here probably doesn’t want to sit on a dirty stoop.”
I laughed. “I don’t. So whadda you say we take a walk around the block?”
He nodded and told his buddies he’d be back, that he needed to walk me back to the train so I wouldn’t get mugged.
Once we were out of earshot, I said, “How’s Rosanne doing?”
“Mom’s doing alright. You remember old man Stimpson?”
“Of course. He decapitated that big snowman we spent hours building after that crazy snowstorm we had when we were seven or eight.”
Dario smirked. “That’s right. I pretended my mom sent me down to borrow sugar or something and stole his corncob pipe. How can you make a snowman without a pipe?”
I laughed. “What about Stimpson? Something happen to him?”
“Nah. He’s still kicking around. But he comes and spends time with my mom a few times a week. His old lady died a few years back. Mom says he’s her special friend.”
“No shit? Your mom is stooping Stimpson?”
Dario punched me. “You don’t want me to mess up that suit, do you?”
I chuckled. “Good for Rosanne. I’m glad she’s happy. But listen, I came by to get some information that might help out a client of mine. He’s twelve and reminds me a lot of the two of us at his age.”
“Poor little bastard…”
“Yeah, no shit.” I smiled. “Any chance you know a guy they call Sugar?”
“Sure. He’s a pharma over on Lyme Street.”
Pharma was short for pharmacist, which meant he was a local drug dealer. I knew that much already since Storm had admitted the truth about their fight.
“Know anything else about him?”
“I know he used to rough up his old lady. She’s got three older brothers, and they paid him a little visit. The next day both his arms were in casts from shoulder to wrist.”
I was glad he was an asshole and not a friend of Dario’s. “Who’s he work for?”
“I’m assuming what we’re talking about here is between us? I don’t mind if you jam him up, but I don’t want my name getting out as no snitch.”
“Of course not. I might dress like one, but I’m not a total douchebag.”
Dario snickered. “Sugar works for Eddie D., who works for the Big Man.”
Excellent—a line of assholes. I nodded. “Thanks for the info.”
My oldest friend and I walked around the block a few more times. He caught me up on the neighborhood. Back in the day, I couldn’t wait to get out of this place, yet there was something comforting about being back. Maybe it was the trust I had in some of my old buddies, and they had in me. Years could pass, but we’d been through too much shit together for that bond to ever break.
When we rounded our way back to Dario’s porch for the fourth time, we stopped. “Have you heard from Linda?” he asked.
My jaw tensed at the mention of my mother. “Not in a while. She must’ve found some other sucker to give her money.”
Dario nodded. “I hear you. Gonna come up and hang out for a while?”
“Nah. Another time. I gotta be back at the office at the crack of dawn.”
We shook, and my friend punched me lightly on my arm. “Don’t take three years before you stop by again.”
“I won’t. Take care, Dario, and tell your mom I said hello.”
***
The next day I put a call in to the ADA assigned to Storm’s case. I learned he was out for the rest of the week, so it would be a while before I’d be able to talk to him and have an excuse to call Autumn. Yet I kept eyeing her business card on my desk. Right before I headed out to lunch, I took the card and tossed it into my drawer. Maybe removing her name from plain sight would help me stop thinking about her so much.
I met Trent and Juliette in a conference room to have lunch. We’d ordered in Chinese from the place down the block.