1. CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

"Are you seriously trying to bribe me with dessert?" Mercury Welch wasn't impressed or swayed. "You understand that I won't represent you without money, right?"

There would have been a time in Mercury Welch's life when he wouldn't have even questioned the trade, but that was before he left the… He inhaled and exhaled with the control he'd learned in his life since being taken from his parents' care.

It might have been ten years ago, but Mercury still shuddered each time he thought about the… No. He needed to stop thinking about it. Nothing about the compound he'd grown up in had been an actual commune. Although he hated seeing it for what it was, the fact was it had been a cult.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he focused on the topic at hand. The farmer, Mr. Nettles–and yes, Mercury used that term even though his would-be ‘client' didn't actually grow anything–nodded hopefully. "It's the best fudge in the entire state."

Huh?

Why in the fuck anyone would consider that fudge would be enough to pay an attorney for legal fees? Then again, since moving to Cedar Falls and joining his former mentor, Dion Hayes, Mercury realized nothing in the town was exactly what he'd expected.

Not only was the small southern town highly accepting of everyone–mostly–but there was a certain amount of… well, crazy that seemed to infect everyone there. Not that he was complaining, but he just hadn't expected it.

"I can't take fudge as money, Mr. Nettles." Damn if he didn't kind of hate himself for saying it. Then again, he wasn't that surprised. He'd grown up never having anything to do with money. Everything his parents had, from their beds to their clothes, were gotten from trading.

"But the reason I'm coming to you is because I'm about to lose my farm. I don't have any money." Mr. Nettles looked like he was about to crumble.

Dion had warned him that not everyone could pay their fees. But he never thought someone would actually try to pay with balls of fudge.

Mr. Nettles pushed the box closer to Mercury. "I promise, just try them, and you'll see why they are much better than a bit of money."

Not having anything to lose, he picked up a chocolate ballfilled with what appeared to be walnuts. The moment it hit his tongue, Mercury moaned and closed his eyes. There was the sweetness of the chocolate and the saltiness of the walnuts, but underneath all of that was the spiciness of…cayenne. He wasn't certain, but it gave it a slight kick and a smoky flavor that enhanced the chocolate perfectly.

Mr. Nettles might have a point because…damn, these were amazing. He'd never really been a fan of sweets before, but that was before. Now? Yeah…now? He was a fan.

"Consider me your lawyer," he told Mr. Nettles even as he shoved the second half of the fudge into his mouth. Yeah, they really were that good.

Mr. Nettles smiled smugly. "I told you."

Not even caring a little that he'd been right, Mercury picked up another ball of fudge that was white chocolate with pretzels and mint. Oh. My. Fucking. Yummy. Goodness.

Once again, there was no stopping the moan that erupted from him when the flavors hit his tongue. He was so gonna have to visit Tasty Balls, the local fudge shop on Peachtree. A new shop in a building that had just recently been rebuilt after a tornado destroyed it years ago.

He hadn't had the opportunity to visit it since he'd moved. Who was he kidding? Sweets weren't a part of his typical diet, but that might have changed. There was a chance he would find himself buying the treats every damn day.

"Do you think you can save my farm?" Mr. Nettles asked.

It was doubtful, but he was also prepared to fight the greedy mortgage company unwilling to work with him. That said, if Mr. Nettles didn't find a way to earn money again, there was no way to save his farm.

"I can now, but you need to start earning income. It doesn't matter if it's from the farm or other means, but there's no way you can keep draining money without an income." Mercury hated telling him the blunt truth, but not telling him the facts wouldn't help.

Mr. Nettles nodded. "I know, but I'm too old to try to till the land for crops. What do you suggest?"

This was where it became more complicated. "Any chance you'd be willing to sell the land?" he asked, even though he damned well knew the answer.

"What?" Mr. Nettles practically screeched hysterically. "My family has owned this land for four generations. I can't sell."

Yeah, that was what he'd feared. Since arriving in Cedar Falls, he'd learned all too well there were a lot of people who were there because their great-grandparents had lived there. It was as if they were stuck. Yet…at the same time, not. In reality, it truly depended on the family. Some were completely stuck. Others, while taking pride in their heritage, still didn't feel as if they had to remain in the past.

Then there were those who had recently moved in. Weirdly, the majority of whom were gay. Which, again, oddly, proved Cedar Falls was an enigma. According to Dion, the town went from modestly accepting gays to not only embracing them, but now supporting everyone.

Jesse Grant came to mind. He was gay—married to his partner, Parker Flemming—but also wore makeup, platform shoes, and kilts, yet had been voted in as mayor. Whenever Dion brought up Jesse, he tended to chuckle.

Mercury hadn't met him face to face, but he'd heard many stories. Some good, some bad, and some just unbelievable. Like, apparently, he believed Bigfoot not only existed but had tried to hunt him time after times. He even had his husband carve a statue of the beast and put it in front of City Hall.

"I get that you want to keep your family home, but, and I can't stress this enough if you can't find a way to make a living to pay the mortgage you took out on that land, there is no way that's going to happen." He hated saying it, but as Mr. Nettles' lawyer, he owed it to him to tell him the reality of the situation.

And yes, Mercury had hated telling Mr. Nettles that. But he'd learned since leaving the-damn if it still didn't kill him to admit it had been a cult–there was one thing Mercury had learned…honesty was paramount.

"I've tried," Mr. Nettles cried out as he slammed his hand onto the table. "I wanted to keep the farm going, but after being shot in the leg as a Marine, I just can't keep up the farm. I've tried. I swear I have. But it just isn't possible."

The thing was, Mr. Nettles had actually been severely injured in the Gulf War. He'd lost a leg and witnessed much of his unit die. Working, even if he was physically able, wasn't exactly possible. His PTSD was quite severe, according to Dion.

"Is there something else you could do to earn money?" he asked, despite knowing there was no way that was happening.

He hated cases like Mr. Nettles. It wasn't so much that he was lazy and unwilling to work, but that he just couldn't. Yet the government, banks, and mortgage companies didn't give a shit.

Mr. Nettles' eyes turned watery. "No. Don't get me wrong, I probably haven't tried as hard as I should, but no one can possibly pay me enough to forgive the debt me and my family have incurred."

The thing was, it was more Mr. Nettles' family debt. From all the paperwork Mercury had gone over, the only reason the farm was about to be foreclosed on was because of Mr. Nettles' parents and grandparents. They had leveraged the property more than once and barely scraped by. Then they'd made terrible decisions on the use of the land and for years hadn't been able to use it at all. It was one of the reasons Mr. Nettles had gone into the Marines. He'd sent every dime he made back to help out his family.

When he'd been medically discharged, he hadn't a penny to his name. Only his disability pay had gotten him through, but unfortunately, because inflation had outpaced that check, he'd once again had to take out a mortgage on the land.

"Something would be better than nothing. It might help your loan holders to believe you might be able to pay. But it is up to you." He prayed Mr. Nettles would answer correctly because Mercury really wanted to help him.

"If someone would hire me, I'd work there." Mr. Nettles's words eased some of his anxiety.

"Then I think I can help you. Not just for the short term, and I won't deny, we may have to find another solution to your financial problems." That was being extremely generous.

"I know." Mr. Nettles dropped his head, looking remorseful. "This is all my fault. I just…" The lines on his face grew, as did the sorrow. "I wish…"

"I get it." Mercury did his best to reassure. "There are times when things don't always make it easy."

Was it wrong to moan once more when he bit into a salted caramel with…was that marshmallow? Fuck him, but it was amazing. No…that was such a tame word. Decadent, maybe. He really needed to stop by Tasty Balls before heading home.

Then again, he'd already had several. Maybe he should wait until at least the next day. Right? Yeah. He should.

"So, if I get a job, do you think I can keep my farm?" That was the question of the day.

Unfortunately, Mercury couldn't answer that. Dion had told him about each judge in the county, but until he'd developed a relationship with them, he could not come close to predicting the outcome.

That said, he was being paid in fudge. Did Mr. Nettles actually expect a better answer?

He already, mostly, knew that answer. Unless one was super rich, which meant they had no concern about how much money was spent, the answer tended to be ‘no.' Well, not always, but he'd learned money meant everything in this world. You either had it, or you didn't.

What did that mean? He had no fucking clue. But he would do everything he could to help. "I will try, but I just can't guarantee anything."

The best possible outcome was finding a way to get the man some money, but Mercury had no idea how to do that. He'd need to talk to Dion about whether there was some sort of charity in Cedar Falls they could contact.

For his client's sake, he really hoped there was, or he would end up losing his home.