I had originally intended for this story to be a one-shot, but it was so well received that I'm making it a three-parter.

(That's right readers, you made it happen! Now if you want to donate to my Patreon... no no, another time) If you live in the south or have ever had the misfortune or eating at a Bojangles, you know all that is mentioned in the following passage. I personally hate sweet tea with a burning passions previous only reserved for people who abuse dogs and Michael Bay, and that may or may not be reflected.

Enjoy ^_^

Jimmy spent the majority of the meeting tapping his foot nervously under the table. The blond lawyer seemed to be totally at ease explaining the steps they would need to take to get a patent on the new series of machinery. It almost seemed as though she wasn't aware that he was the same person that the got in a fight over a coffee cup not two hours earlier. She had to though; every so often she flashed him a smirk that implied she was going to make him even more miserable by the end of the day.

When the meeting was mercifully finished, he waited for the rest of his team to clear out of the room.

The lawyer was packing papers into her bag when he wandered over. She looked up expectantly, "Do you have a question about the policy Mr. Neutron?"

He shifted nervously. "Um, no. I just wanted to-"

"What? Lecture me about the correct titles of copyright laws? Or maybe talk about how I should, how did you so eloquently put it? 'Get a real job?'" She stood up to look him directly in the eyes. In the high heels she had donned since this morning she as now a good inch taller than him. The effects made her fierce glare more intimidating.

His stomach lurched. "Ok, I didn't-"

"As much as I would love to watch you shove your foot further into your mouth, I need to be going." She slung the large bag over her shoulder and walked towards the door.

He panicked. "Look, can we discuss this over lunch?"

The clacking of her heels came to a stop.

"I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. The firm has so let you eat, doesn't it?"

She spun around, "I suppose I could stand to let you treat me to lunch."

"Wait, who said-"

"Come on, James, it's not like you can't afford it."

This was the first time she had referred to him as anything other than Mr. Neutron, and she usually said that with so much sarcasm and condescension his own name felt like an insult. There was something about the way she purred out the monosyllable that made him contemplate another scenario where she might call it out. He chastised himself instantly for thinking like that. This woman clearly wanted his head on a stick, and he would do well not to get distracted.

"Fine, I know just the place."

A grin that would put the Cheshire cat to shame spread over her face. "After you, sir."

"Look, I apologize about what I said this morning. I was in a bad mood because I was running late and I took it out on you. I didn't mean to be so rude."

She ran her index finger over the spine of her bound menu. The moments seemed to drag by before she finally looked up. "I have to wonder whether you are apologizing because you acted like a first class ass, or because you discovered that I'm somebody important."

He didn't know how to respond. She continued, "You see: it just so happened that the universe handed me a trump card, but if I was just a barista who made minimum wage working the espresso machine, I would still deserve to be treated better than I have been this week. Because despite what you may think, that is a real job."

"I know."

"And furthermore-" she paused, "what do you mean, you know?"

"I'm agreeing with you.

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. "You've never worked in the food service industry, have you?"

He hesitated, "No, but you don't have to in order to understand that-"

Fortunately the waitress appeared at the table.

Cindy, er- Cynthia perused the tall menu before asking for iced tea. He asked for water and the small woman dissappred into the back.

The blond sitting across the table from him took the silence as an opportunity to glance around the establishment. After a moment of silent assessment, she let out a long slow whistle, "Wow, a greasy spoon. You sure know how to treat a lady."

Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and he suppressed the urge to respond back with the retort that he didn't see any ladies present. This woman had the capacity to make his life very miserable, and not just at work. Instead, he smiled and said, "Hey, I never promised you a nice lunch."

To his surprise, he was rewarded with a small smile. She had yet to display anything other than the obviously fake smile at the coffee shop or the self-satisfied smirk in the boardroom. He rather liked the genuine amusement he had caused.

The waitress brought their drinks and pulled the memo pad out of the blue apron tied around her waist.

"I'll have a chicken salad sandwich with the house salad," Cindy smiled at the small woman.

"Ok, and the usual for you Mr. Neutron?"

"Hmm?"

She looked at him expectantly, "A club on white bread, lightly toasted."

"Oh, um sure. Thanks."

Cindy crossed her arms again, "You eat here often?"

"I come for lunch most weekdays because it's a five minute walk from my building."

"And you don't recognize the waitress?"

"She must be new."

"Her photo is on the front wall for employee of the month." The hostility had returned to her voice.

He passed the saltshaker back and forth, not sure exactly how to respond. How had he not noticed that? He had a photographic IQ and he couldn't remember his waitress' name. What was going on? And why did this bother him so much? Five days of having this blond spitfire in his life had made him feel guiltier about his tendency to be oblivious than he'd previously thought possible.

Cindy stuck a straw into her glass. Her face instantly clenched when she took a sip.

"Ugh, I always forget that it's not-" She glanced up gat him, "never mind."

"What?"

She sighed but continued to look away from him "I forget that the tea's not sweet." She shrugged sheepishly, "I grew up in Texas. This is like cold pond scum. Five years in Connecticut and I still forget to specify sweet tea."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's a guilty pleasure, forget I said anything."

"No, I'm from Texas."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're messing with me."

"No, I'm from a small town in Randall County, population 426. Well, 425 now. I think I'm the first person who ever left." He realized that he had shared a rare piece of personal information.

Her face lit up. "Really? I lived in a suburb of Austin, but my mom worked in the city, so I spent most of my time there."

"Oh, so what made you decide to move here?"

She pursed her lips before looking up at him. "It's not really an exciting tale. I got accepted into Yale. It wasn't a hard decision: I was bored out of my mind and wanted bigger things. And less gravy at every damn meal."

"But where else can you find the wonderful combination of chicken ad waffles?"

She glared, "Don't start."

"And then there's the wonderful world of chitlins," her balled up napkin hit him square in the face. "Alright, I'll stop."

"I don't believe this. Nobody at the firm mentioned that the great James Neutron hails from redneck central."

He shrugged, "I don't exactly broadcast that fact. Why bother with the past when the future has so much possibility."

"Uh-huh. Is that the tagline for your autobiography?"

"No!" He could feel himself flush.

She chuckled, "Well you just seemed to have that quote ready. One never knows."

"I don't know, it's true is it not?"

She cocked her head back, "Don't talk to me like that."

"What?"

"Like I'm one of your board members. I'm a lawyer, remember? I have to listen to people bs their way through nonsense all the time. You're not going to distract me with flowery language. If we're going to have a real conversation you need to talk to me like a real person."

He sat back in his chair. "I didn't realize I was doing that, sorry." And he meant it…sort of. He was an expert in avoiding awkward questions. After all, he didn't owe her some grand backstory.

That sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

"Well, I suppose years of giving generic answers to reporters can warp your conversations skills, eh James?"

"Jimmy."

She looked taken aback, "Pardon?"

"I um, go by Jimmy in the non-professional circuit." He wasn't sure why he had graced her with usage of his name. He had just met this woman, and only his parents and close friends called him that. But he felt a strange kinship with her. So now there were four.

The table fell back to a comfortable amity. "And nothing says friendship like solicited legal advice."

"Well, hiring someone for five figures is the best icebreaker."

"Ah, but you forget how small a percentage actually goes to me."

"Not for long from what I hear. You're apparently worshipped by all in the building."

She beamed, "I'm really close to getting my name on the side of that building, but I might have to leave before that happens."

"How come?"

"My roommate is a personal assistant for a fashion designer. She wants to move to New York to jumpstart her own career."

"So what?'

"So she's my best friend, and she did move here to be with me. It's the least I could do. Besides, it's not like there would be no work there. I just really like where I'm at right now."

"Including making espressos for rich jerks every day?"

"I do have another napkin, you know."

He chuckled. "Would you move to New York if you didn't make partner?"

She shrugged. "I think the bigger question is how a guy from Podunk, Texas becomes a Forbes darling."

A wave of panic overtook him. Many people asked about his nefarious past, but usually were satisfied with a basic generalization of small-town life. He had a feeling that Cindy would not be placated with the brush off. He started to make a hasty distraction, when relief was provided in the form of her cell phone buzzing.

"Shoot, I need to get back to the office!" She wiped her mouth with a napkin and grabbed her bag. "To be continued."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, don't think you can get away avoiding my question just because I have paperwork to go. Thanks for lunch."

"Yeah, sure. When do you plan on prying deeper into my private life?"

She stood up. "I don't know. I get off work at seven. What comes next is up to you."