He shut down his computer and began to tidy his desk in preparation for Monday morning. His assistant set his schedule in his inbox, and he quickly perused it to ensure nothing had been added. He had an early staff meeting, then a planning committee meeting after lunch, followed by another senior staff budget meeting at four. And he somehow had to get his own work completed between those time-consuming discussions. He had an emergency Chapter 7 that Presley needed completed by next Friday, or else her client’s paycheck was going to be garnished the following pay period, meaning they had little time to stop it. He scribbled on his schedule to call Ms. Strollenburg and tell her he needed her paperwork back asap so he could get her filed and in bankruptcy protection. The thought of the sixty-two year old woman, who was already working two jobs to care for her three grandkids, losing almost an entire paycheck really tugged on his heartstrings and made him kick into second gear.
He shut off the lights and made his way through their office that took up the entire top floor of the Town Center Office Suites. His firm, Alfred, Dolan, Maroko & Bickel, PC, also owned the building and was landlord to the multiple offices on the lower levels. Thankfully, the firm staffed a realty management company to oversee their tenants, and Edison didn’t have to concern himself with that department. The custodial staff was still inside so Edison didn’t bother locking up.
He checked his watch on his way through the building’s opulent lobby. His stomach rumbled loudly enough to make him double check that no one else had heard it. It was going on eight o’clock, past time for him to eat dinner. He’d eaten a light lunch today at Bravo of three-meat lasagna, garlic bread and two Arnold Palmers, so of course he was hungry. Outside, the sun had already set over the tall steeple that sat atop of the four-star Westin Hotel. It left the sky a pretty pale blue and orange he had to pause and admire. Town Center looked gorgeous tonight, even sounded wonderful as the live local talent they showcased each weekend could be heard from the grand courtyard.
So many people were out on the warm evening in their casual attire, men in slacks, some in cargo shorts, others in jeans, and Edison saw at least four women in little rompers, others in blazers, some in short, short skirts, or were those shirts? In this part of Virginia Beach, the weekend had started yesterday. Thursday was the new Friday. Happy hour lasted until nine. Restaurants operated until midnight, some until two in the morning. Prominent businessmen hosted cocktail parties that filtered out onto their large balconies.
None of those scenes called to him.
Edison hoisted his rustic brown messenger bag farther up his shoulder and made his way down the ten steps of their building’s entrance and onto the darkening pathway. He took his keys from his pocket and prepared to deactivate his car’s locks when a tall figure standing in the far corner of the lawn caught his eye. Who is that? All he could see was full shoulders tapering down to nice hips in worn jeans. The man stood stiffly with his feet shoulder-width apart, and Edison thought maybe the guy’s arms were crossed over his chest. He couldn’t be sure because he was standing with his back to him. He didn’t appear to be an employee, not dressed in dingy jeans and construction boots. Maybe he’s lost something? The man was just standing there staring across the raggedy, unshaped bushes that surrounded the building.
Despite his better judgment, Edison approached the stranger. It was still kind of light outside and there were other people around, so he wasn’t worried. Maybe the guy was homeless and disoriented. Edison was sure he could point him in the direction of the nearest shelter. If a cop circled around, he’d could be picked up for loitering in this area. Edison cleared his throat so he could project his voice. He wasn’t a screamer. “Excuse me. Can I help you?”
He watched the man’s shoulders stiffen before he turned to face him slowly.
Oh shit. Edison immediately knew he’d made a mistake. The guy was built as heck, his chest, his stomach, his thighs, all muscle. Damn. But what had him concerned was the way the man was scowling at him. Edison took a couple of steps back at the sight of dark eyes boring into him. “I, uh.” Edison pointed to the top of the building. “I work here. I was just wondering if maybe you’d lost something.”
When the stranger didn’t answer, Edison felt his pulse spike and he checked around to see if anyone was watching them. Nope. As he’d gotten closer another staggering realization made itself known. Not only was this guy big and badass-looking, but he was way taller than he’d thought. At least four or five inches over him with a towering strength that emanated from him. Edison swallowed hard, feeling the sweat gather under his pits and at the center of his back. The man could easily wrap one of those big biceps around his throat and drag him around the side of the building and have his nasty way with him. Freakin heck, Edison. Stop being ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do that to you anyway? Oh snap! What about money?