Acts of Desperation(18)

“Mr. Alexander, nice to see again, sir,” the driver said with his head tipped down.

“Fritz?” Jax laughed. “What’s with this Mr. Alexander stuff? Knock it off old man!” he said, giving him a friendly slap to the shoulder.

Fritz laughed and shook Jax’s hand. “You caught that, huh?” He winked. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I didn’t know if that uptight New York attitude had grabbed a hold of you completely yet.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh no, not you too. Bernie’s given me enough grief about that. I’m here to stay now.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “So, how you doin’?” he said, mocking a New York accent.

“I’m well,” Jax said, laughing at Fritz’s imitation. “How are you? How’s Maria?”

“I’m great and Maria’s on cloud nine. The grandchildren are visiting all the time, and she’s loving’ every minute of it. Sophie just had her second back in November, bouncing baby boy,” he said, beaming with pride.

“How many does that make it now?” Jax asked. “Bernie’s given me updates over the years, but I’ve lost count.”

“Between our four girls, we’re up to nine grandchildren now. But…” He shook his head. “That’s enough about me, who’s this pretty young lady?” he asked.

I smiled while Jax made his introduction.

“Sember, nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too. Now, let’s get you two inside this car before you catch your deaths out here.” He opened the door and motioned us inside as a warm gust of air rushed out of the vehicle.

I scooted across the seat in my most lady-like way, considering I was wearing my blue fluted skirt that showed a little more leg than my collection of pencil skirts. I got into position and crossed my ankles then the heat inside the cabin instantly melted away the cold, thawing my frozen cheeks. When Jax slid in, the smell of something woodsy and crisp was carried in the air. If it was cologne, it was nothing I’d smelled before. If it was just him, it was magnificent. He leaned in to clear the closing door then looked at me, locking his eyes on mine. We sat, staring at each other and my heart started to pound again. He drew in a breath and just as his lips parted to speak, Fritz lowered the privacy glass.

“Where to?” he asked.

Jax broke his gaze and turned toward the front. “Palomino’s please,” he said.

“Right away,” he said and raised the glass.

“So, it sounds like you and Fritz go way back,” I said. The car pulled out into traffic, and I heard a faint horn honk then gripped the seat as my weight shifted unexpectedly. I accidentally bumped my shoulder into Jax. “Sorry,” I said and righted myself.

“Any time.” He smiled. “We do go way back. I used to visit here a lot in the summers when I was younger. Whenever my grandma wanted to get me out of her hair, she would send me to work with Bernie. Fritz is the company driver, and they’ve known each other forever.”

“Why do you call him Bernie and not grandfather, or grandpa?” I asked.

“I do when we’re together as a family, but in professional setting it can give off the wrong impression,” he said.

“That makes sense,” I agreed. “So, would Bernie put you to work when you visited when you were a kid?”

“No, not really, he just liked to keep me busy,” he said with a shrug. “He’d send Fritz and me on errands for the firm. I was a little bit of a handful growing up.”

“The hardest part is admitting it, I hear,” I said, smiling.

He laughed. “I’ve come to terms with it, but I bet you were an angel.”

“Were,” I said. “More like am—I left my halo back at the office. It does give off the wrong impression.”

“I bet. You’ll have to show it to me sometime,” he said.

I only laughed. “So, Fritz kept you in line then?” I asked.

“He did, but don’t let the old man exterior fool you, he’s just a big kid at heart. There were plenty of times where we’d goof off together when we were supposed to be doing something legitimate. We used to go down to the edge of the river, and he’d bring his handmade slingshots. We’d sit on the bank and try to shoot fish with rocks we collected,” he said through a laugh.

“Ever get anything good?” I asked.

“No. There were only ever logs and debris floating in the river, never any fish—not that I would have eaten them anyway coming from that funky water.” The Ohio River is far from the cleanest water source, and I certainly never would have eaten anything that came out of it. “But he’d always try to tell me scary stories. Something about bodies floating downstream and how they were always found right where we were standing. I knew he made them up on the spot while we fired away, but he relentlessly tried to spook me.”

“Did he ever succeed?”

“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “No, his stories were ridiculous but very entertaining.”

“Sounds like he was fun to hang out with. Bernie must have trusted him a lot to send him out with you,” I said.

“They were in Vietnam together—old war buddies. Bernie trusts him with his life. He’s always said if you ever need someone to get your back, you’ll never meet a more loyal person than Fritz.”