With Even Stronger Reason
~ Chapter Three
It was exactly twelve noon when I made my appearance at the Babbo Restaurant in the trendiest district of town. Surrounded by towering buildings, I almost did not find it. Despite being a lawyer, I still spent my meager earnings on fast food joints and take-out eateries. I really had to talk to Heero about cutting me a bigger share of our profits. Still, I had to prove myself by winning a couple of cases.
"Do you have a reservation with us for today, sir?" the receptionist asked as I entered. I felt his snobbish sniff as he examined my discount store suit and cheap tie. I felt the urge to stuff said discount items down his throat for being so obnoxious.
"No," I answered with a sniff of my own. The least I could do was uphold my dignity by behaving as obnoxiously as he did.
"Then I'm afraid-"
I held my index finger up to prevent him from saying any more and kicking me out. This guy was underestimating me. I may be young but I didn't leave law school without some tips on problem solving. Therefore, I used the only means of success I could think of at the moment.
"I am Dorothy Catalonia's lawyer," I proclaimed loud enough for the receptionist and a few other patrons to hear. I handed him the card she had left at the office. Dorothy Catalonia's side always wins.
Once an abhorrent prick, this man's demeanor changed almost immediately. I was satisfied when I saw the swift change from arrogance to fear. He quickly presented me with a fake smile accompanied with a genial hand directing me to the first server he could find. I was given one of the better tables with a view of the bustling city just outside. Perhaps throwing Dorothy's name around every now and then was the key to success.
"Any drinks, sir?" I was asked. I looked up at the server to find him attentive to whatever it was I had to say. However, when I almost got my order of tap water out of my mouth, he spew forth a list of wines I had never heard of in my life. "We have Chateau Lafite 1787, Jeroboam Chateau Mouton-Rothschild 1945, or perhaps a good 1775 Sherry, or a 1784 Chateau d'Yquem-"
I interrupted him before he could go any further. None of those sounded within my budget although the Sherry dating back to 1775 sounded promising. I wondered if Dorothy was footing the bill, but I did not want to take any chances. I was not willing to go broke on wine. Maybe I would at some other time, but not at the point in my life when I had student loans to pay off.
"Just a coffee," I said. It was more expensive than tap water. He looked at me like I had a fever.
"Very well, sir," he said before leaving me to decipher their menu.
Alas, I was not well-versed with the five, six, or seven course extravaganzas. I've had Gnocchi once but did not enjoy it. Crème fraîche made my stomach ache. Truffles on anything were out of the question and pine nuts made my hands swell. Most importantly, I could not afford any of the food listed on the menu. I was a fast-food joint guy after all.
I was not given any more time to think when my server returned once again. With him was a chilled bottle on ice and a wine glass. I tried to hide my horror at the sight of the year plastered on the bottle. I did not order the drink. I was not going to take one sip of it.
"That wasn't what I ordered," I said with a stern voice when my server was close enough. I was not going to pay for the drink. I was not going to wash their dishes for them either.
"Sherry wine 1775 compliments of Mrs. Winner, sir," I was told.
While my server poured me a drink, my eyes darted left and right to look for the source of my expensive drink. A once over of the entire restaurant did not reveal Dorothy. I did, however, catch a glimpse of one Mr. Winner in one of the more secluded areas of the restaurant.
"Will Mrs. Winner be joining me today?" I asked the waiter as my eyes continued to scan the crowd.
"Mrs. Winner apologizes but she will not be able to join you today, sir. She has requested that we recommend the finest in our menu. She has also asked us to inform you that your meal will be compliments of her as a thank you for your services."
I was getting a free meal. My eyes momentarily left the crowds in time for my brain to digest the situation. I was not only getting a free meal. I was also getting an expensive free meal with the best view in town. From where I was seated, I could clearly see Mr. Winner in all his glory. I wanted to kiss Dorothy for being such a conniving witch, but she was nowhere to be found.
"Very well then," I said as I placed the menu down on the table. "I will leave myself to your mercy," I said before concentrating once again on Mr. Winner. "...but nothing with pine nuts."
I knew Dorothy had planned this. I knew it from the start. When she left that card in the conference room, I knew she was up to something. I should have been prepared. I knew that I should be walking away from the situation to preserve my ethical duties as a lawyer. Nevertheless, I sat there and damned that woman again and again. I spied on Mr. Winner. All my muscles commanded me to approach him. One sip of the luxurious wine and I was just about ready to walk up to him. My tolerance for alcohol really was that low. I damned her again for knowing that.
I stood with my knees slightly adamant of what I was about to do. My body went haywire as my mind tried to control it. Part of me wanted to approach him and have lunch with him. The other part of me wanted to preserve my self-respect by going against what Dorothy had planned. In the end, I did not have to decide for myself because a young man approached Mr. Winner's table and took the seat across from him. I let myself sag on my seat to watch and nurse my delicious aperitif. Right on cue, my first course was delivered to my table.
"For our first course you will find blue fin tuna tartar mixed with shallots on a bed of baby spinach, topped with delicate pecans roasted in honey with a dash of balsamic vinegar. Please enjoy."
My fork landed on my dish without the assistance of my eyes. My server looked horrified as I massacred the chef's fine creation with not a note of appreciation in my eyes. I was concentrated on Mr. Winner and the way his hand landed ever so softly and suggestively over the unidentified young man's hand. Was he massaging that hand?
"Is there anything wrong with the fish, sir?" I was asked.
"How old do I look?" I questioned as I turned to look at my server.
"Pardon me?"
"How old do I look?"
"...About late twenties or early thirties, sir."
"I'm only twenty-three," I said with a half growl.
He liked them young. Was I not young enough? Did I have to be pubescent; lacking body hair; baby faced to the point of being illegal? Besides, how old was that boy anyway? He looked fresh out of high school. Why was Mr. Winner, my Mr. Winner, meeting with a young boy at an expensive restaurant? Was he paying the boy? I was available and free.
I ran my fingers over my hair. My tuna tartar was sumptuous now that my tongue finally got a taste of it. It calmed me down if just for a little while.
"This is delicious," I said as I blinked in surprise. I had thought that all that Chinese food Duo had been feeding me over the years had annihilated my taste buds.
"The chef will be pleased to hear that, sir," my server said before leaving me.
I took another bite of my first course. Mr. Winner had progressed to whispering something into the young man's ear. The reaction to the whispered words was a giggle in merriment. Hah! I could giggle too. That was, if I were so damn drunk I didn't know what I was doing.
I frowned for whatever that was worth. I rarely reacted to anything and I doubted that my frown got across to anyone witnessing my semi-breakdown. I thought that there had been a connection between me and Mr. Winner. I thought it was mutual attraction that I sensed. The guy couldn't take his eyes off me the other day. Those luscious lips looked like they wanted to be all over me.
"Your second course, sir," my server said after having appeared out of nowhere. I didn't even notice that my plate was already gone. "We have thinly sliced Kobe beef served with mild soy sauce accompanied with a bit of red and brown rice mixed with dried cranberries. Please enjoy."
"That guy," I said without paying attention to my meal. "Does he come here often?"
"Mr. Winner, sir?" my server asked. "Why, yes. He is always here for lunch."
"Does he," I started as I tried to organize my words before saying it. "Does he always meet with those?" I said as I pointed out the young man he was having lunch with.
My server, god bless him, coughed in discomfiture. He loosened his bowtie and tried to compose himself before addressing my question.
"Yes," he said. I could tell liars apart and this man was no liar.
"And where do you suppose they go afterwards?" I questioned next.
"To the hotel across the street, sir," my sever said. I looked up at him in slight admiration for his straightforwardness. I would not be able to tell if he worked for Dorothy, but he seemed sincere enough. There would have been no gain for him either way. My server winked at me in recognition of my understanding of the situation. I thanked him with a head nod before fishing whatever bills I had in my pockets and handing them to him. Mr. Winner would get a different kind of visitor this afternoon.
Gulping the rest of my drink down in one go, I decided that now was the time to approach Mr. Winner's table. A few steps were all it took. The look on Mr. Winner's face was priceless.
"Shouldn't you be in school, boy?" I whispered into the ear of the pretty young man who was Mr. Winner's companion for the time being.
"Who are you?" the boy asked.
"Your principal, you little delinquent," I continued to whisper into the boy's ear. "And if you don't get back to school this instant, I'll tell your parents you've been meeting with rich, old men to suck them off in exchange for booze and drug money."
"Fuck off," the boy said before gathering his things and leaving us.
Mr. Winner was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, a perfectly groomed, raised eyebrow.
"Quite the vulgar vocabulary you have there, Mr. Barton," he said with his hands folded and resting atop the table.
"Quite the illegal past-time you indulge yourself in, Mr. Winner," I said in response.
Mr. Winner laughed. If he was embarrassed, I could not really tell. He directed his hand toward the empty seat in front of him as an invitation to join him. Fixing his tie in an unconscious effort to make himself more presentable, he leaned back on his seat and examined me.
"He's probably older than you, Mr. Barton," he started. "He just looks young."
His eyes, the same ones that looked at me hungrily just a few days ago, inspected me with calculating precision. Perhaps he was not much different from Dorothy.
"I can see why your wife is divorcing you," I said, crossing my arms against my chest.
"Oh, really?" Mr. Winner answered with full-blown curiosity for my approach. "Are you also aware that Dorothy meets with hordes of men the same way I do? And are you also aware that I am represented by an attorney and therefore not required to speak with you?"
"I was looking out for the welfare of the young man you were about to accost," I lied through my teeth. It was a good enough excuse to be with him if even for just a bit.
"Accost?" Mr. Winner said with another laugh. "Accost is such a strong word. He was no prostitute. He was my - shall we say - boyfriend?"
"If you weren't so gorgeous, I'd punch you," I said without thinking first. This guy was a trial to talk to. He was such a maze that I lost myself in the conversation. I was mad at him for being caught soliciting the company of a young man. I was jealous because I was not the first choice. I was also resentful enough that I would use this incident in our case against him. The judge wouldn't let his son near him if he knew of his exploits with young males.
Mr. Winner looked serious all of a sudden and seemed to consider his words before saying anything more. A clean hand grabbed a hold of the fork beside his plate. I was a little worried that he would stab me.
"That boy looked a little like you, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Barton," my adversary asked me.
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked instead.
"He is actually twenty-five."
"Again, what does that have to do with anything?"
"You think I'm gorgeous."
I paused. I did let that slip earlier. Yes, I thought he was more than gorgeous. I wanted him for myself. If he would just shut up then everything would be just fine. I damned Dorothy again for making me serve as her spy. There could have been better ways to deal with something like this.
"I have an attorney," he said when I did not respond to his statement. "You are my wife's attorney. We should not be talking to each other outside of that context."
"Again," I said before being cut-off.
"Had I been given the choice, you would be my bed companion for this afternoon, Mr. Barton," he said with candor. "But as it is, you are my wife's lawyer. As such, I have to find a suitable replacement for you. I'm severely disappointed that you do not approve of my closest pick, but I hope you find it in your heart to feel flattered that I would go through such great lengths to replicate you."
My mouth felt stale and my blood was rushing out of my head into a place that needed no blood at the moment. In my mind, I begged Dorothy to fire me now. I knew it. He was into me too.
"To find that you consider me attractive - I am very honored, Mr. Barton."
"Your wife is the devil," I said out of nowhere.
"She brought you to this place," Mr. Winner stated. No questions needed to be asked because it all became obvious the moment I showed up before him.
"That hotel across the street," I suggested.
"I have no intention of assisting you in losing your license, Mr. Barton," he said with a strict tone, one he probably used on his underlings. "Sleeping with the enemy may sound risqué and all the more exciting but our association within the realm of your work should come first."
"I've watched most of the videos from the private eye," I admitted.
"And you don't have to tell me what effect it had on you," Mr. Winner said with a frown. He was serious about not sleeping with me. He didn't want to ruin me and here I was insisting on ruining myself.
"Mr. Yuy and Mr. Maxwell made the right decision in hiring you," he said next and that was the one that hit me. If I slept with this guy then I wasn't ruining only myself. I was taking Duo and Heero down with me. After all they'd done for me, I owe it to them to behave properly and do my duty as an attorney of their firm. My lonely and hungry libido will have to wait until a later time.
I grabbed his wrist with uncharacteristic brutality and pulled him toward me. Whispering harshly in his ear, I tried to make sure that he heard every bit of what I had to say.
"You're mine the moment you're divorced," I said.
His response was to crush his lips against mine in an equally brutal kiss. I didn't know if the patrons of the restaurant witnessed the unfolding of a complication. I didn't know if reporters caught a glimpse of their soon to be tabloid headline. I didn't know if my server thought ill of me for involving myself in such an act. I didn't know if Mr. Winner and his soon to be lover would survive the difficulties that were sure to follow. All I knew was that I was being kissed by my dream.
"Hotel," I growled with insistence. I was young and active. I was not going to let this go.
To my surprise, Mr. Winner did not protest. He left several large bills on the table and pulled me out of the restaurant. We crossed the street haphazardly. By the time we were at the hotel's front desk, we were both out of breath.
"Mr. Winner," the receptionist said with a smile. "Same suite?" she asked.
Mr. Winner only had to nod before he was given a key. I was all over him the moment we stepped into the elevator; the elevator with security cameras. This was it. I was going to lose my license because I couldn't use my brain in complex situations such as this.
"I've wanted you ever since I saw you," I told him between kisses.
Mr. Winner responded with a sigh and then a groan.
"You're not supposed to," he said before we made it to the suite. I bypassed the large living room and dining area for the bedroom. No other protests were heard from then on. All I could think of as I continued my attack was what Duo and Heero would think of me. Their disapproval would have to wait until later because for now, all I could deal with was one selfish and unscrupulous desire at a time.
