Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sebastian didn't understand the malarkey that he seemed to be caught up in. Of course, he wasn't an attorney but a surgeon, so he could see no reason for them to take his licenses away because he'd messed up a little. Being a surgeon had been his lifelong dream, not for the prestige or even the personal favor of a lot of people that came with it. He wanted the money. Christ, did he ever need some of that right now.

So what if he'd been drunk a couple of times when he was working? He'd gotten himself to work, which should have shown them right there that he was fit enough to operate. Lording over the peons, too, he would admit that he had a great deal of that. Also sex.

Good Christ, it was fun making people do what he wanted to him. With him, too. Once or twice, now that he had time to think on it, he'd even gotten the cleaning crew in on his fucking. The humiliation was quite fun, too. Raining upon their heads like it was something that was owed to him. And why not? He'd made the hospital quite a bit of money. Cost them a bit more, he thought, as well. Now there was this crap going on. And why? Yeah, a couple of times, he'd made the wrong cut on their body or the wrong person. But that wasn't his fault. Not really.

All in all, it had been taken care of. The hospital had the money. Just hit up one of the Fosters or the Tuckers. Hell, they had it all, damn it.

Being plastered all the time didn't make him a liability. It made him a more relaxed and happy surgeon. A happy surgeon, too, made it so that he didn't knock around too many of the people that he worked with. Like that fucker Ethan. He hated that kid. All because of his parents and grandparents.

If anyone needed to be knocked down a few notches, it was that little pisser. The mother fucker had gone over his head, too, and tattled on him. Like they were schoolyard bullies and gotten him in dutch with his wife. Emily should have been right there by his side, but no, she took off with his money, all fucking millions of it, and had ‘started a new life.' Bitch.

Nothing was up to standards at the jail. Today, for whatever reason, he was being carted to the courthouse again. He was prepared this time. He'd been begging for paper since he'd been brought back here after the first disappointment, and he decided right then that he was going to be prepared even if his half-wit attorney wasn't. Sebastian had an idea that attorneys weren't held up to the same standardized testing and rigor as doctors were. Not that he studied all that much or hard for anything.

Dad had provided him with enough money that he could buy his education, and not once did he look back or regret a single thing. Of course, his parents also paid off a great many people when he fucked up too. There were too many to think of right now, but it would have been in the millions if he had thought hard about it. Not all of it had to do with his career, either.

He'd knocked up and knocked off enough people that he finally had to take care of old Daddy and Mommy, so they'd stop bitching all the time about costs. What did they care, damn it? He looked good with them, and his mom, the old cunt got to tell people that she had herself a doctor in the family. The only thing that he regretted was not having a son. One would have been good to have around right about now, bringing him money and making sure that he had all that he needed. But this would be over soon enough, he knew. Money. He just needed to get to his ready cash, and he'd be out of this jail and doing what he wanted. Getting intoxicated and having some fun.

Right now, he was sitting in a big school bus that had been outfitted to carry prisoners from one point to the next. Today, being from the jail to the courthouse. This was the second time he'd been called to the courthouse and, hopefully, the final time that he was going to be spending the night in that little jail cell with none of the comforts of his home. And since a couple of days ago now—Sebastian still couldn't figure out what had happened to his stupid attorney and the big bruhaha. He was in the dark as to what the hell they were wanting him to do now. Christ, too. He needed a drink.

He'd been able to dry out a bit since being in jail. Lost a bit of weight, too, as it turned out. It didn't mean that he didn't want a drink like he was as dry as the desert, but it was the principle of the thing. He could well afford the best liquor there was, and there wasn't any reason at all for him to have to go without it. As far as he was concerned, anyway.

The word magic had been mentioned off and on. Also, he'd been told to shut up. Since he was a little fella, he hated to be told to shut up. His mom would always smack him, a painful swing at his face that would make his face bruised up when he'd go to dinner. Then his dad, of course, would have to say something about it. His name was called, and he was told to stand up and wait in line.

"It's Doctor Abbott, not sir." He'd been telling people that for the last few days, that he was a top-notch surgeon, not a sir anything. "You'll call me that, or I'll have your pension."

"I don't think you're going to get your own pension, much less mine." The man cackled like he was a crow or chicken or something. "You got your notes there? We have been watching you, seeing what you've written down. I doubt you're going to walk away with your life outside of those prison bars, much less with a pair of shoes that will fit you by the end of your term. They're saying you're going to get yourself several life terms. It don't matter how much money you got—or, in your case, don't got, killing people is killing people no matter how much money you go on saying you have. Which is none. I heard tell, the banker and your pretty little missus is having them a grand old time down there in the islands. Should have been nicer to those on the way up, I'm thinking."

"Who are you hearing this from? You're making that up." He thought about his wife. "What do you mean, pretty? Emily is uglier than sin, and I know it."

"Yeah? Well, she's got her some fancy surgeon on call, and he's fixing her right up. Big tits and a nice firm ass. You messed up there, Mister Abbott." He was still caterwauling as he walked into the courthouse, telling people that he was being followed by a man without nary two nickels to run together. "You hush that up right now. I'm going to be out before dinner, and it had better be waiting on the table when I get there, too."

When he was pissed off, his Alabama accent would come out in full force. Words, too, ones that he'd not used in decades, would fly out of his mouth like he'd been living there most of his life instead of a while back. Christ. Emily better not have spent his money. Good Christ, that was his getting away money, and she'd better be remembering it, too.

As soon as he was in the courtroom, he could tell the judge was in a vile mood. He'd always been a smooth talking man when he'd been looking for himself someone to take all her money. Thinking on that now, Sebastian smiled and looked at the man sitting up there behind the dais.

"My goodness, ma'am. You sure are a looker today." It paid at times to have that southern drawl, he thought to himself as he continued. "After this is all said and done, the two of us should hook up and get us a nice drink in some air conditioning somewhere."

"Hundred dollar fine for making a pass at a sitting judge." Male? The person looked like his father's granddad had the same voice as he did. "What I'd like to have is something to drink and a nap with all this paperwork finished up off my desk. Sit down and listen to the charges against you."

He nearly sat down when his attorney did, but when he did, he was told to stand. The list was proving to be much longer than he had the energy to stand up and listen to. There was a lot more here than just a few things that he'd been banking on being paid off and him being let go. Not that he was worried. As he'd told people all his life, everyone had a price. It was just finding it and making it, and that was the issue. The judge asked if there were any questions.

"Yes. Did you accidentally add my stuff up with someone else? I mean, wow, that's a lot of charges." The judge just gave him one of those cockeyed stares like his wife had done to him when he wasn't being all that funny. "All right then. The list is a bit longer than I thought, but not unworkable. I have me a list right here on how many things that should be worked off by just forgetting about them. Quite a few, as a matter of fact."

"Let me see your list." He said that he wanted to go over them with him. "I don't have time for you to read to me a list that I'm not going to abide by, Mr. Abbott. I have a—What was that you said?"

"I'm Doctor Abbott. Not Mr. I have worked hard all my life on that—" The judge made a comment that he'd heard that before. "No, I did not make the name for myself on the backs of others. I worked hard on being called the best doctor that there is."

"Worked hard at being called the best doctor, or are you the best? From what I've heard about you so far, Mr. Abbott is that if you're not drunk by eight in the morning, it's because you're still drunk from the night before. Over the last several years, you've been to work intoxicated more times than not." He didn't know what to say to him, so he asked about the list and if they could go over it. "Let me have it. As I said, I don't have time for you playing around in my garden today."

The papers were snatched from him. No one, it seemed, was going to be paying him his due today, and he was getting tired of it. He'd not been all that nice either, he would admit to that, but they're the ones that had him chained up eating meals unfit for consumption and making him wait behind bars for someone to get up off their asses and see that he's the victim here, not them. Damn it all to hell and back. It's not his fault that someone turned him in for drinking.

"The list isn't going to help you any, Mr. Abbott. Even if I was inclined to go over the entire thing with you, I'm not going to be listening to any sort of workaround for you so that you can get out of here. You've been caught with your pants down, and now it's time for you to pay the price of your actions. It just simply isn't going to happen where you're able to toss money at a situation, and it goes away. Not on my watch." He asked the judge why not. "Well, I'm not purchasable. I don't even know if that's a word or not, but you used it twice on here, and I'm still not going to take a—" The judge turned to the officer behind him and asked what that word was supposed to be. "Yes, that's what I thought. I'm not going to take a Briel nor a bribe if that's what you meant to say, either. And there isn't always a price that someone will take. I have several friends who have enough money to turn you down at every turn."

"Well, we'll see about that. I want you to tell me who this friend is, and I'll work my magic on them. I've never met a person yet that I couldn't talk into having a bit more money than they do at the moment." The judge simply told him no, which was another word that he hated to hear said to him. Before he could figure out the person's name, the judge had moved on to the next person. "I'm not finished here. I'll have my say here and not be rushed along."

"Mr. Abbott, you either gather up your things, including your attorney, and get out of my courtroom, or I have you found in contempt of court. I'm a busy man, and I have plenty to do today that does not include holding your hand when I've told you several times how busy I am. Your court hearing will be—"

"I don't want a hearing. I want you to let me out now, by god. I'm a busy man as well, and I don't have time for this bull crap. You either hear me out or let me go. Those are the only two options that you have at the moment. I know my rights." He was asked if he wanted to get to the sentencing phase of his hearing. His attorney was trying to get him to sit down and shut up, but he wasn't going to let the man win. "If getting to the hearing stage of my being in jail is what may or may not get me out of here, then I want to get there. I want you to sentence me."

He was quite proud of himself. Sebastian was getting just what he wanted. As soon as this person sentenced him, he'd pay his fines, no matter what they were, and then he'd be home by lunch. Well, supper anyway. He still had some heads to roll. That little prick Lance was going to be first on his list, too.

~~~

George found that counting the water beads on a water glass was the best kind of distraction. The silence around the table was making her uncomfortable, and that bothered her a great deal. Not because she wanted to fill in the awkward places but because her boss, Ange Dawson, thought that she was in charge of the meeting. When she wasn't even close to being anything but an annoyance for the three people who had arranged it, back to her beads of water.

When one of them would run into one of the other beads of water, she'd simply start over. As soon as she was finished, rarely did she ever get to all the beads; she would ask for a refill and watch as the water would start to bead up again. It was her thing; she supposed that when she was a customer at this place, she got a fresh glass of water every time she had a refill. George tipped well enough for it, and she felt better about having a nice clean glass every time she wanted a drink.

"Ms. Rogers, are you paying attention, or do I need to have you tell the client how sorry I am that I've brought you along. Again." She glanced around the table before addressing her boss. "Well? You've been staring at that glass like it's going to give you all the answers. It's not, you know. Whatever is going on outside your head, it's not in that glass."

The clients, Ben and Barbara Dennison, simply cleared their throats and looked away. They were embarrassed, and she didn't blame them one bit. Again, Ange, an ass of a boss, had made a fool of herself and tried to make one of her. George sat up higher in her chair and smiled at the couple she'd been meeting today without her boss. She looked at her watch, never pulling out her phone for the time, and realized that the meeting had gone over time forty minutes. Things would continue to go on like this if someone didn't act soon. George nearly burst out laughing when Ange apparently decided that she was going to act on the time.

"Ben, are you and Brenda happy with the way things are going on at your home? The renovations? They're up to speed?" Ange laughed then, sort of manic-like, and Barb asked her what she was talking about. "Well, since I've been working with George for the last three months on your home, making sure that she is at least making a showing at showing up to work and making herself look good—I have to admit, it's been hard doing double duty on my end, I thought that I would as you how things were going."

Her belly churned up, and she could feel the burning begin right in the center of her chest. The small touch to her leg a pat from Barb, she knew who it was. George felt her confidence rise a bit. Ange asked her what she was going on about, then asked if she was drinking on the job again. That pissed her off, so she looked for a glass to count beads on. Ben shoved his glass toward her without touching the rim or sides so she could see the water beads. When you worked as close as she had with this couple, you got to know a great deal about them. And they had her as well.

"I wish that it hadn't been required of me to tell you that part of my life, Ange. You use it on me every time you want to put me in my place. Or think to put me in my place. I am sober. I have been for six years. I don't drink. I don't snort, nor do I partake of any kind of drugs." Barb winked at her. "You said that you were going to be running this meeting, so go on ahead. We're all listening to what it is you have to add to whatever you think is going on."

"Well, as I was telling Brenda and Ben here—" Barbara told her what her name was. "I'm sorry. Again, I have to keep an eye on Georgeanna every minute. She can be really good at her job when she's sober, but there are times, like now, when she gets in over her head. Anyway, I was just mentioning that I've not heard anything from the two of you in several weeks now and Cara—my airhead of a secretary, told me about this meeting. I wanted to be here in the event that you had any concerns about what we're going to be doing for your house renovation."

Barb and Ben looked at each other and then back at her. With a smile, Ben stood up and then leaned down and kissed his wife before simply walking away from the table. Barb was gathering up her things when it seemed to occur to Ange that she was leaving, too.

"If she's given you so much trouble that you want to go with another firm, I wish that you'd allow me to take over. As I explained to you when I had Georgeanna work with you that she had a drinking problem, and at times, she did use drugs. It's an ongoing issue that we've had with her, but I assure you, as I like to say about Ange Designs, we're all family, and we work well with each other." Barb paused to pick up her purse and stared at Ange. "I'm sorry for whatever problems she caused you. I wish you had—"

"I wish you had done your homework before hijacking our meeting. Today was supposed to be a celebration. A sort of launching party, you might say. Every week, when you call one of us and ask how George is doing, we tell you how great of a job she's doing. You don't want to hear it at all, so the last time that you called, I told you all about the spit-up that my nephew had done on my carpet. The color, texture, and whatever else I could think of for the twenty minutes that you allowed me to prattle on about it. Let me ask you something, Ange, why did you hire her at all if you were only going to bash her name every time you spoke of her. Or tried to get us to bash her, too? Why? One would think that you're jealous of her work. Because if you're not, you should be." Barb looked around the room before eyeing Ange again. "How about this room? Do you like it? Have you paid attention to the detail of the workmanship in here? George did this for us. Took our restaurant and made it look like a million-dollar country club setting. I just love it, and so do the people coming here."

Ange looked around the room. If she were invited to the kitchen area, she'd see that more renovations were going on in there as well. Lighting, as well as floors, had been put in for the kitchen staff, which worked better with flow. The uniforms had been changed as well. It didn't take much to make a staff happy if you simply listened to what it was they wanted. And all this staff wanted was to be recognized as part of the place, not a statue or picture where you could go unnoticed for years, but a vital part that got the work done. George had loved working on that with them.

"Our business has tripled since this part of the clubhouse was finished. Did you know that my husband and I own the country club? Anyway. After the renovations were finished up on our kitchen, four months ago, George came to me with a few ideas about this area of our lives. You see, she knew that we owned this place and helped us, on her own time, in getting the parts of the pieces to make it look like this together so that when we closed up for five days to do the work, that's all it took. To be closed. I've not heard a single person complain either about how they didn't get paid for being off. Would you like to know why?" Ange nodded, her face paling compared to how tanned she had looked just this morning. "They helped. Some of them painted. Others just took the trash out. It was fun for all of us, including my son. Christ, you should have seen Jess getting into the job. It did my heart and my husbands a great deal of good to see everyone coming together with—"

"I knew about this." Barb cocked her brow at Ange. "You think that something this massive can go on with my own employees, and I'd not know a thing about it? No, I knew. How do you think she was able to think things up like this with her nose so full of coke all the time? Someone had to keep her on the steady. I've told you this a hundred times, Brenda—" she told her name again—"Whatever, Barbara. She's a crackhead. An alcoholic. When are people going to get it in their thick heads that she's nothing? Not unless I say so. And all this? Well, it's my baby, and I dare you to say anything differently."

"I don't believe I'll have to prove anything that happened here and who was in charge of the project. As I said to you before, this was a celebration and a launching party today. Until you had to butt your two cents in. But I'm guessing that's all right, too." Barb leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "You go ahead, darling, and tell this nasty person how you've decided to go solo from now on and have been working hard on it too." Barb laughed as she finished gathering her things up. "Oh, I wish I could stay and be here when she gets the news, but I do have some things of my own to launch, too. Goodbye, Agne. I do hope you feel what it's like to lose a treasure as you have. George is going to be brilliant, and you're…well, I'm afraid that you're going to have to do your own work from now on to get any credit for it."

A platter of fresh food bits was sat in front of George. She picked at it until the waiter brought her a glass of fresh water. With a bump to her elbow from him, she started eating the carrots. Ange stared at her while she enjoyed—well, sort of enjoyed the food. Her belly was churning up.

"You're going to be working for me forever without a single complaint, you know that, don't you?" George couldn't answer with her mouth full of celery so she didn't bother. She was relieved to see Ivy Tucker sit down across from her and grab a handful of the fresh bits, too. "We're having a private conversation here. I don't know what you want, but get your ass up and get out of my face. I'm busy here."

"Oh my, what a way to speak to a stranger. My goodness. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Ivy reached out and took her hand into hers. "Hello, Georgie. I'm sorry I'm late. But I did get the most fantastic call from Barb—not Brenda on the way in. She's having a wonderful laugh at this."

The waiter came back and smiled at Ivy. George laughed when he told her that the kitchen would fix her whatever she wanted, and she was laughing like a small child. While she ordered, Agne looked at her.

"Your ass isn't going to be able to get out of this so easily, Georgeanna. I'll own you before the end of the day." George asked her what about her did she want to own. It seemed like a good question to her, but in Ange's state of mind right now, she didn't see the humor in it. "What sort of plans did you make with the Dennison's? I want to see receipts, hours worked as well as the bill that you gave them for all this lavish work. Also? The bit about you having the employees working? Don't ever do that again. I have contracts with others that—"

"You have contracts. I have none. I don't think you're going to like what my dear friend here is going to tell you. Ivy, when you're finished ordering half the menu, I'd like you to meet Angie Dawson-Grubbs. I should point out that she hates the Grubbs part, but that's her legal name." Ivy smiled and took the hand that was sort of offered. "She came to the meeting that I was having with Ben and Barbara. She keeps calling her Brenda for some reason."

The small kick to her foot had her picking up another bit of food. The people around her were so good for her. They not only kept her on path, but they helped her to keep from babbling as well. Which was something that she did when she was particularly nervous. Like now. Kicking her was Ivy's gentle way of reminding her to shut up. Nicely, of course.

"I don't care who you are. I'm going to call my attorney and—" Ivy cleared a small place on the table and laid out the stuff that she'd brought with her. As she continued to take food off her plate, a fresh one was brought to the table. There were olives on this platter, and she knew that Ivy would eat every one of them. George wouldn't touch them if her life depended on them. While the two women spoke, mostly Ivy, George thought about how she'd met Ivy. She really was her dearest friend and had been since before grade school. The fact that they'd ended up in the same state, much less the same city, by the time George was going down for murder was a miracle. A lifesaving one.

"Georgie?" She looked at Ange and Ivy and smiled. "Honey, your phone is ringing. I don't know why you have that sucker if you never plan on answering it. It looks like it's from my husband, Hudson. Answer so we can get on with this blowout."

Picking up her phone, she answered it as she was leaving the table. He told her that he needed to talk to her about something that was happening near her. It was about her brother's children.

"I didn't know that he had any children. Why do you think that it's important enough to—he's dead, isn't he? It's about time." He told her everything that he knew about how he'd come to be dead and that they'd found his wife's remains as well. "Okay, good for them to be away from him. What does this have to do with me?"

"The kids, a girl, and a boy, are living with my wife's family. They've been abused, as I'm sure you could guess, as well as being used to sell drugs for their father, your brother. There won't be any charges put against them, but they need someone like you to come here and sign the paperwork to let them be adopted by the oldest Tucker. If it comes to that."

"What do you mean, if it comes to that?" He explained that there was the option of her taking care of them. "I don't know anything about kids. And it's doubtful that anyone would give a former crackhead custody of two kids. I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but I didn't have a great life. I'm just getting back on my feet as it is."

"I'm aware of that." She figured that he would know more about her than she did before calling her. "George, I don't want to pressure you or anything, but the kids don't need to be put into the system. I think that they've had enough bad things happen to them, and a good, stable home is more than they could have gotten staying with their father."

"I'll come, but I'm not making any promises. Right now, I'm trying to get my shit together with this shit going on here." He told her that his family was on her side, so she had nothing to worry about. "Yeah, says the man that has his shit together. Ivy told me you were a pessimist. You don't seem to be."

"I used to be, then I met some very wonderful people, and now I'm getting my shit together. And the best part is that I'm having fun being a stay-at-home dad, too. I've missed a great deal by working twenty-four/seven, and I'm learning to relax and enjoy life again." She rolled her eyes, and he laughed. "I can read your mind, Georgie. And I can also tell that you don't believe me. You'll come to see that there are more important things in life than work."

"Nah, it's not the work that bothers me. It's the being able to fill my belly that concerns me the most."

Going back to the table, she noticed that Ange was gone, and there was a burger and fries being sat down in front of her. Ivy was eating the rest of the olives when her burger was sat in front of her. With her smiling at her, she had a feeling that she'd missed a great deal while talking to Hudson.

"No worries. It's all taken care of. Ange is being arrested as we speak. Now eat. You look like a small breeze could knock you over." George ate one of the still piping hot fries and decided that she wasn't going to spoil her lunch with questions. All of a sudden, she was starving.

They talked mostly about her children. Even being the typical mom, she brought out her phone to show off pictures. George knew that she'd get around to telling her what had happened and wasn't worried if she wasn't. Things were beginning to look up for her. She just hoped that with her brother's kids, she didn't have another mess on her hands to deal with. It was too much stress.