Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (18 page)

He went to say something and I remembered another one of those lessons I learned when I was younger from Granddaddy. “Besides, aren’t all cats black in the dark?”

This time, his smile could not be contained and a shaking of his head followed the rumbling from his chest. “So, you had control of all of your faculties and attraction wasn’t a factor.” He counted off each point on his fingers.

“No, Sir.”

“What’s your stress level at work, at home, and in other aspects of your personal life?” He tipped his head to the side, resting his elbow on the table beside him.

“Well, Granddaddy died recently,” I admitted, never considering the stress from that could cause this situation.

“I did hear about his passing, I’m sorry. Was this the first time you had relations since his death?”

Just as I had crushed Shayla’s hopes of a relationship, Dr. Clarkson fired his own shots at mine.

“No. Uh…the night of his funeral, I had one of the best orgasms of my life with a girl.”

His brow furrowed. “With the same girl you had the issue with?”

Like a rocket to my chest, the memory of closing my eyes and picturing Claire on white sheets, hair all around, calling out my name over and again, hit me like a ram. My overwhelming desire to make love to her, and those mental images, directly resulted in the release I’d had that night. I was trying to bury myself in Shayla, but it was Claire who haunted my thoughts, keeping my focus away from an eager, aching ass and on a girl who wouldn’t give me a second thought. What was even more pathetic than the realization of what caused my inability to fuck who I wanted, was the sudden erection slowly forming from the memory of Claire and those white sheets.

I shook my head in response to his question; the lump I had shoved down rising once again.

“Have you been successful in attempts at self-gratification?”

I sucked in several deep breaths, not wanting to believe the truth behind the issue.

“Yes, but…”

Dr. Clarkson leaned in my direction, forearms resting on his thighs. “But?” he prodded.

It wouldn’t matter if I kept her name off my lips or burned her memory by avoiding her at every pass. She had reached inside of me, touched my soul in a way no human, much less some random woman ever had. Claire Stuart, with her gentle voice and heart of pure gold, had changed me, all while never intending on doing so.

“A girl. No, a woman…a beautiful, wonderful, selfless woman. One who has affected me like no other.” As I said the words, my back straightened and my mind cleared. Shaking my head from side to side, I was still unable to kill the smile emerging on my face.

“Not the one you were with when this happened obviously,” Dr. Clarkson clarified.

“No, she was there, just not physically in the room.”

Market and King Streets were the heart of the tourist section of Charleston. With their brick paved roads laid out to greet the sightseers, couples and families strolled along the sidewalks taking in the history the town was famous for—it was a portrait picture anyone would admire. As a child growing up here, Momma would bring us to the market every summer and let us watch the basket makers create works of art, which they sold to the many patrons who passed through the doors.

Nothing much had changed since the last time I strolled down the streets. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, I’d changed. More than growing to the height and profession I had, but also the newfound truth I’d admitted to myself.

“Sir, would you like a rose for ya girl?”

Several young men stood on the street corners selling roses weaved from the same material of the baskets. Momma had an entire vase full of them at home, collected over the years, as each of us boys would proudly give her one.

“How many you got?’

The boy, who I guessed to be no more than fifteen, looked around to his buddies. “Two dozen, Sir.” A younger boy answered, excitement in his voice.

I reached into my pocket, my badge reflecting in their young eyes. “I’ll take them all.” I handed a wad of cash to the shocked boy and took the straw bundle from his outstretched hands.

“Thank ya, Sir,” they collectively announced retreating to collect more roses or spend their bountiful earnings. As I watched them cross the street, weaving in and out of the horse and carriages waiting to take visitors on a tour of the city, I thought back to the time my dad met us in one of the restaurants on this street. How my brothers and I ran around those horses, scaring our poor momma half to death.

I wasn’t sure how to proceed with Claire. She and Shayla worked together, though I knew they weren’t friends from the way Shayla spoke of her. Besides the fact I was certain Claire thought of me as a player. Granted, that was true; I still wanted to keep my word to Shayla about being her friend.

The issue was: Did I
want
a relationship with Claire? The bigger question was: Would she even consider one with me?

I knew one person who had experience in how relationships worked. I pulled out my cell phone, hit speed dial two, and continued to walk down the street, my bouquet of flowers in my other hand. The phone rang twice before I heard his standard greeting for me.

“Who’d you piss off now?”

Normally, I would come back with some smart-assed slur, but not today. Today, I needed to talk with my dad, seek his guidance on what to do.

“Are you busy?”

“Not if this relates to one of my children. Do you want to come over for dinner?”

One of the many qualities I loved about my dad, we always knew what came first in his life. It didn’t matter, if he was in the middle of a million dollar deal, if one of us needed him, he was there.

“No, this is a conversation I’d rather have without Momma present.”

I crossed the intersection and neared the garage where I parked my car earlier, needing a good walk to try and clear my head.

“Dylan, please tell me you haven’t gotten a girl in trouble.”

I clicked the remote, tossed the grass roses on the back seat and slid behind the wheel. “No Sir, no one is pregnant.” I started my engine.

“I’ll tell my secretary to clear my schedule.”

Thirty minutes later, I sat in my dad’s office, scotch in hand as I finished telling him everything. How I was disappointed in my performance as a Detective, confused as to how to handle Shayla and Claire, and frustrated with the judicial system as a whole.

Dad listened as he always did, never interrupting until I was finished. No judgment crossed his face and there was no furrowing of brows in disappointment.

“Dylan, when I was first introduced to your momma, I was seeing another girl from time to time, much like the way you’re seeing your assortment of young ladies now.”

His admission surprised me; I’d always assumed he had loved Momma his entire life. “But when I took the time to get to know her, I couldn’t continue to see the other girl.” He placed his glass down on the desktop, adjusting his seat.

“Of all the things I have accomplished, the greatest is winning the love of your momma. She lifted me up when I doubted the sun would come up the next morning. She closed my mouth when I needed to keep the words inside, instead of hurting a relationship unnecessarily.” His eyes were full of wisdom and knowledge, years of dealing with people and their various problems. For years I’d found him to be bulletproof, believing there was nothing he couldn’t do. As I matured, those beliefs changed with reality. Still, he was the wisest living person I knew.

“Of all my sons, I see myself in you the most. Always the protector, the strong one, and, yes, even the most stubborn.”

Leaning back in his high back chair, this was the moment he would give me all the answers I needed, part the clouds so the sun could shine again.

“You’ve resisted falling in love with any one woman, not because you’re a rotten bastard, Dylan…” He twisted his hand in the air between us, rocking his chair back and forth in the process. “But because you simply needed to find the right one. The one girl who you needed, not the many who needed you. An intelligent and self-reliant girl who could handle your job, your brothers, and, most importantly, like you momma, be the beautiful woman who is making me dinner right this very moment.” He pointed his finger in the direction of his house.

He took a long drink of his own scotch; his eyes never leaving mine as he swallowed and gently set his glass back down. “I have no doubt the girl you are having such issues with is all of those things and much, much more. I can guarantee you’ve not begun to see the real woman she is.” His hand was still wrapped around the side of his glass, with the sun setting in the window behind him.

“But, Dylan…” He paused to make sure he had my attention. “Before you start chasing this girl, tumbling over yourself to win her over…” I nodded my head in understanding and agreement. “Figure out how to make yourself happy. Search yourself; question what is really important to you. Then, and only then, get ready to fight for it.”

I sat silently for a few moments, trying to absorb what he’d told me. I knew he was right; I couldn’t possibly make someone else happy if I wasn’t. The intercom on his desk phone broke the silence he had allowed to surround us. He picked up the receiver and assured his secretary it was fine she interrupted us.

“Celia needs to speak with you.” He turned the phone in my direction, holding the receiver up to me.

“What’s wrong?” I knew she would never call me if it wasn’t important.

“I’m sorry to have to track you down like this, boss, but I thought you’d want to know.”

“It’s all right, Celia. I was finished anyway.” Assuring her she was fine in calling me.

“You remember the girl you pulled the guy off of near the college?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the DA is fast tracking this to the courts. The trial starts Monday. I know you’ve taken this particular case personally, so I felt you needed to know.”

I let out a gust of air, a growl of anticipation escaping me. Could I really put one criminal behind bars that actually deserved to be there?

“Oh, and by the way, I’m pissed at you.”

“What? Why?” I stammered.

“I gave you strict instructions to call me and tell me what the doctor said. I’ve been worried sick you’re dying on me.”

For the first time in days, I let out a laugh, which in turn caused Celia to chew my ass a little more. Dad was right; we needed women like Celia and Claire to ground us, to remind us the world didn’t stop while we were taking a break from it.

A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow.

~William Shakespeare

T
he first time I watched a patient walk out of the hospital after he was told he would never walk again, was a fist pumping moment for me. Saying good luck to parents who had arrived in the ER, wife in full labor and delivering at twenty-six weeks, only to be told the baby’s chance of survival was slim at best; and then to see those same parents weeks later looking into the bright eyes of the newborn baby, who just happened to also be the one who was given your middle name in thanks for being there for them, another priceless moment.