Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Chapter 13
Quinten
“It’s simple, Mr. Dickerson. Stop hiring hookers, and the media will stop reporting that you’re hiring hookers.”
I sigh into the phone receiver. It seems like great advice to me, but what the hell do I know?
“I think a better solution to the problem would be to sue the news station.”
“Because you have a good case for a libel suit?”
“Yes.”
“The media is printing lies about you?”
“Well—”
“Last time I checked their site online, they had a video of you picking up a hooker in south St. Louis two nights ago.”
“She’s a friend of the family,” he counters.
“And you have proof of that?”
He remains silent.
“I don’t keep records of transactions with hook—I mean friends. Whose side are you on?”
“You’re the client, Mr. Dickerson, but you make it hard to help you when you continue to do the same thing over and over.”
“It’s a free country,” he grumbles. “I don’t understand why people are concerned with who I spend time with.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering what Deacon would say if I told him that I plan to drop this man as a client. Working with him is seriously starting to make my skin crawl.
“Back to the point at hand. You can’t sue the news station if you were, in fact, picking up a prostitute.”
“Then I need a different resolution.”
“Any suggestions?”
“I need you to find me a reputable escort service.”
“Blackbridge Security isn’t that type of company. Have you considered using dating apps?”
“I don’t have time for that shit.”
I don’t have time for your shit.
“We’re not going to find you an escort service, Mr. Dickerson, and I don’t know that our services are right for you if that’s the expectation. I’ll forward your case information to Mr. Black, and we can go from there.”
“It’s an honest transaction. I’m not forcing them to get in the car with me. The sex industry—”
“Is illegal in St. Louis.”
“But it shouldn’t be!” he hisses, so loudly I have to pull the phone from my ear.
“I can’t fix a reputation you continue to tarnish.”
“I hired you assholes to—”
“Goodbye, Mr. Dickerson. Mr. Black will be in contact soon.”
I hang up the phone before he can continue to rant.
Leaning back in my office chair, I stare at the ceiling. The days just continue to drag on and on, and I know it’s because I’m forced to wait from one Thursday to the next to see Hayden.
“That’s the look of a man who isn’t having the best day,” Deacon says as he steps into my office.
“We’re going to have to drop Dickerson,” I tell him.
“Still hiring prostitutes?”
“He wants us to find him a reputable escort service.”
Deacon scoffs at the ridiculous request. “Tell the man to move to Nevada. There are several counties there that it’s legal. How bad is it this time?”
“He made the evening news yesterday.” Deacon frowns. “And before you ask, they have it on video. He’s in breach of contract.”
“I’ll contact him,” he says as he drops another handful of folders on my desk. “Let’s talk about these real quick.”
I flip through the first folder as Deacon sits in the chair across from my desk. The case notes indicate a dad going after his daughter’s boyfriend for posting her nudes to a high school chatroom.
“Child porn? That would be easy to solve, but we have to worry about making things worse by bringing to light that she—”
“She’s eighteen. A senior in high school, so that doesn’t fit.”
“Revenge porn? I have no desire to look at the images sent. Does it show her face?”
“Full frontal in a bathroom mirror,” Deacon confirms. “But I’m not concerned about the case against the boy who shared them. The father hurt him pretty badly. The boy is the preacher’s son from the dad’s church. The congregation is up in arms, defending the boy, while ostracizing the girl for sending the pictures in the first place. Apparently, she’s the temptress, and the boy is just another unwilling victim.”
“I might believe that shit if the preacher found the images instead of his son spreading them around. Let me guess, the boy was doing God’s work by letting everyone know who to avoid? God, I hate double standards.”
We continue to talk about this case and the other three he’s shoved my way this morning before he gets up to leave. Despite having a ton of work to get done, the day doesn’t go by any faster. I find myself continuously looking up at the clock on the wall.
After setting a game plan for three of the cases with the clients and waiting for the fourth to call me back, I make my way to the breakroom.
Jude is on the sofa, playing with that stupid length of rope. Kit is cleaning a handgun. Wren is nowhere to be seen and probably in his office jacking off and giving filthy commands to his woman over a video call.