Missing Dixie(66)

I feel like Julia Roberts’s friend visiting her at the penthouse in Pretty Woman but I suck up my feeling of inadequacy and state the name of the person I’m looking for.

“Is she expecting you?” Blonde Bun asks.

I arch an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

The woman glares at me and picks up the phone on her desk. I hear her telling someone that Dixie Lark is there to see her and asking if she should let me go on back.

“Miss Weisman is currently with a client but said she can see you in a few minutes,” the receptionist tells me, her tone cold enough to give me frostbite.

“Thank you,” I say evenly, refusing to let her get to me. I step over to the seating area and lower myself onto a firm white couch cushion. The magazines on the glass table all look lame so I scroll through my phone for a few minutes while I wait.

“Miss Lark,” a voice calls out from behind me.

I stand and turn to see a brunette who doesn’t look older than me holding a door open.

“Miss Weisman will see you now.”

“Great.” I follow her down the hall, listening to the beat of her heels on the shiny hardwood floor. We stop at a door on the right and she pushes it open.

Sitting in a chair across from Ashley Weisman is the last person I expected to see here.

Gavin.

My heart stutters, faltering in my chest at the unexpected sight of them together.

Ashley Weisman is stupid pretty. It’s irritating as hell that she’s so polished and perfect all the time. Does the woman never get frazzled? Smudge her eyeliner? Have a bad hair day? Apparently that’s just too much to ask.

I wait patiently until clear green eyes meet mine. “What can I do for you this afternoon, Miss Lark?”

Gavin whirls around quickly in his chair. “Dixie? What are you doing here?”

Filling my lungs with air while attempting to smile isn’t easy but I give it my best shot. “I came to discuss a few things with Miss Weisman.”

She contemplates this glancing back at Gavin and then makes a face as if she doesn’t see the harm in it. “Okay. As long as you don’t ask me for any privileged information, I think that’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m not here to ask you for privileged information, Miss Weisman. I’m here to impart some.”

Her eyes widen and I know my boldness might come off wrong so I ease up a little. “There are things you may or may not know about Gavin. I’m guessing you don’t so I’m going to tell you because I think it is important to his case.”

Gavin starts to stand when I sit. “Dixie. Don’t—”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.” She lifts a pen and slides a notebook under it.

I lick my lips, place my hands on Gavin’s arm, and begin. “First of all, Gavin didn’t just attack Carl Andrews. He witnessed him hitting his kid. This is a trigger for him because he grew up in an unstable environment with a drug-addicted mother who did not provide him with a safe living situation.”

Surprise widens her gaze and I know he hasn’t told her about his childhood. I tell myself this is for his own good so he’ll forgive me . . . eventually. His expression indicates otherwise.

“Secondly, Carl had been into Gavin’s place of work with his mother before and had provoked Gavin previously.”

“I’m aware of that incident,” she says, but I notice she jots it down anyway. “Anything else you want to share?”

“Two more things,” I say before clearing my throat. “One is that a social worker came and got some info and pictures for a report on Liam and that should be in the system soon. We can use that as evidence to support Gavin’s motivation for doing what he did.”

Ashley asks the social worker’s name and I give it to her. “And the second thing?”

I pull an envelope with a check in it out of my small black leather bag. “This,” I say, setting the envelope on her desk. “It’s a check for Gavin’s retainer and representation fee.” I stand and watch her open the envelope. “From now on, this is the only type of payment you’ll be receiving from him.”

She arches a brow as if in challenge, but I’m prepared for that.

“And PS, if I even so much as suspect you’re being anything less than completely professional with him I guess I’ll just see what the bar association and the partners at this firm think about your policy on accepting alternate forms of payment.” Her face pales and I smile. “Was that clear, counselor? Or do I need to put it in legal terms for you?”

“Abundantly clear, Miss Lark,” she says through nearly clenched teeth. “But Gavin here just handled that moments before your arrival.”

“With cash!” Gavin announces loudly. “I just paid her with cash, Bluebird. I swear.”

Well, now I feel like an idiot.

I narrow my eyes at them both and Gavin holds his hands up. “I’m done with that life, Bluebird, done handling things that way. I told you that and I meant it.”

“He was extremely explicit in his conditions, Miss Lark. If that helps any,” Ashley says.

I sigh loudly. “Okay, well . . . good.”

Ashley stands to escort us both out. “If that’s all,” she begins, handing me back my money, “then I really need to get to my next—”