Dear Readers,
Thanks for all your comments and votes and emails. To the complaints it's too G-Rated, don't worry, we are working our way to the X-side of life...but not before our characters get there emotionally. This chapter should answer some questions that I think have been frustrating some of you, and help get the action moving as well.
Don't forget to vote and give me any feedback you have. And thanks to AlreadyTaken for her stellar editing work!
Enjoy
Titania
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CHAPTER SIX
"Tell me what you want to hear
Something that will light those ears
Sick of all the insincere
I'm gonna give all my secrets away
This time, don't need another perfect lie
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away"
"Secrets" OneRepublic
It was a little after one the following afternoon when Denny pulled up to the address Alessa directed him to. On the corner lot sat a dilapidated convenience store with boarded up windows and black graffiti scrawled irreverently across the faded blue store front.
"This is supposed to be a historical building? It was probably built in the seventies."
Alessa looked back down at the open folder in her lap. "This is the correct address. Property description states it's a turn-of-the-century building. Two-story. Priced at two-point-four."
"Million? Turn of this century? Is one of the stories underground?" Denny asked disbelieving. "Come on," he said at last, opening his door and getting out. Denny pulled out his phone and started snapping pictures, getting angles that included the street signs and surrounding buildings. He heard Alessa talking on the phone and could tell by her questions that she had dialed the development company on the sign announcing plans to build something else.
"Okay, great. Thanks for the info," she spoke into her phone. She came to stand next to him as he peered between the boards on the windows. "Spoke with one of the managers at the development company. Plans are to make this into three commercial units. One an eatery, one a health food store. Said he didn't know what the third one was. Thought maybe it hadn't been settled yet."
"Did he say how long ago the property was bought? Or when development would start?"
"Only that this building was to be torn down by the end of the month. They were still working on construction permits from city hall."
"Well, I think we've seen all we can at this one. Let's go to the next property," he suggested, turning back to his car.
Alessa slid back in, again thinking about how luxurious the leather felt against her skin. Denny's Audi sedan had been a surprise when he'd led her down into the garage and hit the unarm button on his key fob, the gray car's lights flashing. She had assumed a flashy lawyer would have an obnoxious sports car. But there was nothing flashy about his. It was elegant and understated, and purred like a fat cat that just drank all its milk. She tried to tell herself to not fall in love with him simply because she liked his car, but it was hard to do.
Scolding herself, she flipped to the next file and punched the address into her phone's GPS. For the rest of the afternoon they went from one property to another, and at each one discovered that no buildings were being renovated. They were all in various stages of redevelopment: at a few lots, dilapidated buildings stood, ready to be demolished; one old house was being razed; one had undergone fire and had yellow tape around it; two were vacant lots; and two others had new buildings going up. Denny was muttering to himself when he told her to get back into the car.
It was twenty minutes before they pulled up in front of the last property. A structure, outlined in a red steel frame was being erected. Construction fencing closed off the lot as there were several work vehicles parked around the building with workers in white hats busy welding, moving, talking.
"And what is this supposed to be?" Denny asked.
"A Jewish Temple. This is one of the older projects," she commented as she looked at the notes.
"Obviously," Denny muttered, scanning all that was going on. "What was the date on the burnt building we saw, and the vacant lot you went by?"
After looking back through her files, she scanned for the information. "A payment was made...three weeks ago for the burnt building and the vacant lot was just over two months ago." She looked up to see his eyes calculating. "What are you thinking?" Just then her stomach growled. Denny's face lightened.
"Tell you what, you've done an excellent job. Let me treat you to dinner; and I'll share what I'm thinking," he offered, no smile, but a playful glint in his eyes.
Alessa's mouth was open to decline, but he cut her off. "Come on. Just dinner. Plus," he said, his eyes turning back to her mouth, "we still need to talk."
At his reminder of the growing complications of their relationship, Alessa groaned and looked back out the windshield. "Denny, there isn't anything to talk about."
"I don't believe that." He studied her a minute. "And neither do you. I'm not propositioning you, but we need to have a conversation. No arguments. Agreed?" he asked firmly, starting the engine. With something of a pout, Alessa nodded her head, but didn't look back at him. When they were on the road, Denny called ahead to have his usual table ready for him, though she had no idea where he was taking her.
Then, fifteen minutes into their drive back, Alessa's phone chimed. She pulled it free and read the text she had received. When Denny heard her sigh, he looked over and asked if everything was alright. She merely shook her head, not necessarily in answer, but simply indicating that she had something to deal with. She was dialing her phone and then waiting for the other person to answer.
"Hi, Shelly, it's Alessa. Hey, listen, Cadence just texted me that she can't spend the day with me tomorrow." She listened for a moment, and Denny could tell by her repositioning herself, and the small noise she made she wasn't happy with whatever was being said. Eventually she spoke again. "No, I understand, it's just I think Cadence is disappointed. We've been looking forward to hanging out--no, of course I'm sure she wants to spend time with Gram, it's only--no, I understand. Yeah, that's fine." And she hung up, a large and resentful sigh filling the air.
"Something wrong?" Denny nosed in.
Alessa only half shook her head. "It's just my stepmom," she said in a large sigh, and held up the phone as if the device carried the guilt of connecting her with others. "Cadence, my sister I told you about, well we were supposed to spend tomorrow together. She was going to spend the night. I was hoping I'd have her along to help me pick out a dress for that fundraiser Lou told me about. My sister has pretty good taste. Anyway, her mom said Gram--that's Shelly's mom--is insisting on taking Cadence out of town on a little mini vacation for the weekend."
Denny could hear the resentment in her voice, the disappointment and anger. "I'm sorry. That sounds like a very disappointing situation." He was silent after he offered her his condolences before deciding to breach the tension. "You sound as though you're used to this sort of thing."
Alessa gave a cold, cynical chuckle. "Funny, right? I have to be the most responsible adult I know--"
"Agreed."
"And yet, I'm treated...but I really shouldn't be surprised. It's been like that from day one." She stopped her explanation and looked angrily out the window.
Denny wanted to touch her, to rub her arm or pull her into an embrace. His chest was beginning to ache with his inability to console her.
She spoke eventually. "Well, she'll only be their responsibility another four years and then off to college. If it's somewhere local maybe she can visit me more often," she stated, hoping she wasn't setting herself up for continued disappointment.
They didn't speak much after that, and almost an hour later they reached their destination. At first, Alessa assumed he was taking her to the office as they drove by their building, but he kept driving a few more blocks. After finding a parking spot, Denny held out his arm to her, indicating she was to start walking.
"Where are we going?"
"Bix. Ever been?"
Alessa shook her head.
"Well, they have the best oysters," he sighed with a smile.
"Oysters?" Alessa asked with a small amount of trepidation.
"You've never had oysters?"
She frowned and shook her head.
He guided her down a wide alley. "How are you with sushi? I mean real sushi, not that cream cheese and fried shrimp stuff. Raw fish. You like it?" When she nodded, he said, "Well, then oysters won't be too far of a leap. They certainly have a more intense flavor than tuna or salmon, you can tell they came from the sea. But I wouldn't say they're gross."
He opened the door in the brick wall, and Alessa was momentarily taken aback by the restaurant teeming with life. He guided her to the hostess who seemed to know him. When he mentioned he had called earlier, she said, "Of course, Mr. Ashbury. We have your booth ready for you," and with that she led them through the restaurant and up the stairs. Alessa was scanning all about her, enjoying what she saw. Sure enough, the hostess led them to the very last booth on the upper balcony, tucked away in the corner and as intimate as could be.
She could feel her anxiety rising, but calmed herself by reaffirming she wouldn't tell him anything, she wouldn't give anything away, and that she would masterfully steer the conversation to their case and deny anything else. She slid in, and when Denny slid in next to her, she readjusted her position to put a small amount of space between them.
When they were alone Denny spoke. "I know it may sound extremely misogynistic, but would you allow me to order for you? It's only, there are a few things I'd like for you to try," he explained.
Alessa didn't know if she should interpret his request as sexist or thoughtful, and didn't know if she should feel wary or flattered. But he seemed sincere enough and so she relented. After all, if he was treating her to dinner at his home, he would pick the menu there, so she chose to not be difficult. Then she thought of a compromise. "Could you give me your suggestions?"
Denny's concerned expression broke into a gentle smile. He seemed to understand her dilemma. "Sure, I'd love to. First, as I said," he began, pulling open their menus, "I think we should do oysters on the half shell. When our server comes, we'll ask what they have tonight. Now, what would you like to try? The caviar on the potato pillows or the steak tartare? Both are excellent."
Alessa read the description of both. "Raw beef?" she asked, slightly disgusted by the sound.
