think they look awesome, and it shows I'm a man of faith. Plus, I know someone who has one."
"A girl?" Neely teased.
"Yes."
"The friend you're gonna bring to Amile's for dinner?"
"Yes." Patrick nodded and grinned.
"Okay. Are you afraid of needles like your dad?"
"No." Patrick laughed. He was amused that this woman remembered so much about his father.
"Do you know which one you want? I have several to choose from." Neely got her catalogue of crosses. "Show me which one."
Patrick flipped the pages until he found the one he was looking for. "This one,"Patrick said when he found it .
Neely nodded. "Okay. Take off your shirt and come with me. What brings you to New Orleans other than a tattoo? Your girl?"
"I'm a student at Tulane."
"Then, I guess you're old enough to get a tattoo." She puckered her lips. "You are eighteen, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." He volunteered his driver's license.
She glanced at his date of birth and smiled. "Well, this is where I practice my art." She waved a hand toward a chair and a padded table. "You'll need to lie on the table. You're my first customer since my incident. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Then, let's do this."
8
The Year from Hell
R ai f took a week off work to give himself time to grieve although he knew he would never completely heal. He walked into Bertram and Gautier to Myrna, the lobby receptionist, saying, "Mr. Gautier, Mr. Bertram needs you in his office ASAP."
He furrowed tired brows. "Why?"
"Not mine to say." She knitted gray brows into a scowl. "But it's not good."
With a deep sigh, Raif bypassed his own office and went directly to Walter Bertram's corner office. He knocked twice and opened the door.
Six people sat in folding chairs around Walter's desk. Walter himself stood at the plate-glass window overlooking the Gulf of Mexico with a scotch in his hand. He turned at the sound of the opening door. "Thank God, Raif!"
Pointing at the alcoholic drink before noon, "What's wrong?" Raif asked. He nodded toward the firm's lawyer, Saul Blackwell from Baton Rouge.
Saul lifted his own scotch. "You might want one too." Using his glass, he pointed at the other people. "Auditors and Irene Dellaine. She's filed a lawsuit—supposedly Bertram and Gautier used inferior products and funds are missing."
"What?" Raif closed the door with some force.
Saul passed a file to him. Raif opened and read before he slapped it closed. "This is absolute bullshit. Someone will be gone and soon." He ground his teeth as he watched Walter, a man who had just turned seventy, rub his chest. Don't you die on me too , Raif thought.
After months of rebuilding and investigating, Raif filed criminal charges on seven employees and settled three lawsuits for exorbitant amounts. Bertram and Gautier landed on its feet thanks to good malpractice insurance, but had a lot of restructuring to do. Raif was tired. Then at his doctor’s suggestion, Walter retired, leaving the business completely in Raif's hands.
Raif picked up a picture of Chris that sat on his desk. "Maybe this will help me keep my mind off your case. Still no clues." He caressed the glass. "I bet if you were investigating, they would have a suspect by now." He sighed and put the picture back in its place.
Patrick left for Tulane at the end of August. Raif was happy his son had decided to go to his alma mater and get a degree in structural engineering so he could come to work with his father. Patrick confessed he hoped one day the business would be Gautier and Gautier. Raif felt a momentary respite from his brokenness and sadness.
Raif's reprieve and Patrick's dreams almost came to a dead end in September. Patrick's English comp professor accused him of plagiarism and began expulsion procedures.
Raif drove to Tulane to deal with the situation. Professor Moran brought her charge to the board of regents. She insisted Patrick's paper on "The Detention and Execution of Union Spies in Southern Louisiana" had to be plagiarized. She contended
"A girl?" Neely teased.
"Yes."
"The friend you're gonna bring to Amile's for dinner?"
"Yes." Patrick nodded and grinned.
"Okay. Are you afraid of needles like your dad?"
"No." Patrick laughed. He was amused that this woman remembered so much about his father.
"Do you know which one you want? I have several to choose from." Neely got her catalogue of crosses. "Show me which one."
Patrick flipped the pages until he found the one he was looking for. "This one,"Patrick said when he found it .
Neely nodded. "Okay. Take off your shirt and come with me. What brings you to New Orleans other than a tattoo? Your girl?"
"I'm a student at Tulane."
"Then, I guess you're old enough to get a tattoo." She puckered her lips. "You are eighteen, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am." He volunteered his driver's license.
She glanced at his date of birth and smiled. "Well, this is where I practice my art." She waved a hand toward a chair and a padded table. "You'll need to lie on the table. You're my first customer since my incident. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Then, let's do this."
8
The Year from Hell
R ai f took a week off work to give himself time to grieve although he knew he would never completely heal. He walked into Bertram and Gautier to Myrna, the lobby receptionist, saying, "Mr. Gautier, Mr. Bertram needs you in his office ASAP."
He furrowed tired brows. "Why?"
"Not mine to say." She knitted gray brows into a scowl. "But it's not good."
With a deep sigh, Raif bypassed his own office and went directly to Walter Bertram's corner office. He knocked twice and opened the door.
Six people sat in folding chairs around Walter's desk. Walter himself stood at the plate-glass window overlooking the Gulf of Mexico with a scotch in his hand. He turned at the sound of the opening door. "Thank God, Raif!"
Pointing at the alcoholic drink before noon, "What's wrong?" Raif asked. He nodded toward the firm's lawyer, Saul Blackwell from Baton Rouge.
Saul lifted his own scotch. "You might want one too." Using his glass, he pointed at the other people. "Auditors and Irene Dellaine. She's filed a lawsuit—supposedly Bertram and Gautier used inferior products and funds are missing."
"What?" Raif closed the door with some force.
Saul passed a file to him. Raif opened and read before he slapped it closed. "This is absolute bullshit. Someone will be gone and soon." He ground his teeth as he watched Walter, a man who had just turned seventy, rub his chest. Don't you die on me too , Raif thought.
After months of rebuilding and investigating, Raif filed criminal charges on seven employees and settled three lawsuits for exorbitant amounts. Bertram and Gautier landed on its feet thanks to good malpractice insurance, but had a lot of restructuring to do. Raif was tired. Then at his doctor’s suggestion, Walter retired, leaving the business completely in Raif's hands.
Raif picked up a picture of Chris that sat on his desk. "Maybe this will help me keep my mind off your case. Still no clues." He caressed the glass. "I bet if you were investigating, they would have a suspect by now." He sighed and put the picture back in its place.
Patrick left for Tulane at the end of August. Raif was happy his son had decided to go to his alma mater and get a degree in structural engineering so he could come to work with his father. Patrick confessed he hoped one day the business would be Gautier and Gautier. Raif felt a momentary respite from his brokenness and sadness.
Raif's reprieve and Patrick's dreams almost came to a dead end in September. Patrick's English comp professor accused him of plagiarism and began expulsion procedures.
Raif drove to Tulane to deal with the situation. Professor Moran brought her charge to the board of regents. She insisted Patrick's paper on "The Detention and Execution of Union Spies in Southern Louisiana" had to be plagiarized. She contended
Similar Books
