“No prob,” he grins. “You know I make the trip every now and then. I should do it more often,” he adds, “seeing that Monsie’s pretty close.”
It’s true because Conor has his own law practice a few towns over, and he’s been doing well. I’m proud of my bro because beneath that cocky exterior is the mind of a legal genius. A lot of opponents have underestimated him, only to be handed their balls at an unfortunate moment.
Conor winks at the girl and gets her number as I stroll over to a table in the corner. Then he joins me, lowering his huge form into a comically small chair.
“Old fashioned?” he asks.
“Sure,” I grunt.
He waves to a server, and soon our drinks are delivered. The whisky burns as it goes down my gullet, but it’s exactly what I need.
“So, what’s up with you?” my buddy asks while taking a sip of his own cocktail. “This little town still treating you alright?”
I focus on the scarred wooden tabletop for a moment as I think of how to answer that question. I decide to go with the truth and chuckle.
“Well, you know not much changes around here. Sheridan’s pretty sleepy, as always.”
Conor nods.
“Yeah, so’s Monsie, although my caseload has been picking up as of late. How’s business for you buddy?”
I frown slightly.
“Cases have been dropping off for me, actually. For some reason, I’ve hit a slow spell and it’s a little weird. If this were seasonal or something, I’d understand, but it doesn’t seem like it.”
Conor nods thoughtfully and takes another sip of his drink as he considers his words.
“Well, you know how small towns are – here, reputation is everything, and you can’t outrun gossip if you tried. Has anything weird happened? Are you dating a stripper or something, and people have caught wind?”
I roll my eyes.
“No, I’m not dating a stripper. Why, are you?”
Conor nods cheerfully.
“Hell yeah! I love my women nasty, and strippers are just my type. But yeah, it could crater my business if my clients found out. I mean, old Mrs. Whitelaw isn’t exactly going to hire me to prepare her will if she ‘accidentally’ bumps into Kitty while leaving my office.”
I guffaw.
“Do you care?”
“Not at all,” he responds with a smirk, “because I’d much rather fuck Kitty than Mrs. Whitelaw.”
I snort with amusement.
“You’re such a dirty fucker, you know that? But no, no strippers so that can’t be it. Yet what could be the cause? Because business has been on a downtick recently and that’s not good. For example, there was this woman who came in looking for a personal injury lawyer a few weeks back, and I thought I really impressed her. We had a good talk but after a few follow-up calls, she just disappeared, and I guess it started to get real quiet right after that. Fucking weird.”
Conor nods thoughtfully.
“Yeah, especially since you’re known for your expertise with personal injury shit. But who knows? Maybe her mother’s dentist’s brother is an attorney, and is doing the case pro bono for her. Could be,” he shrugs. “Stranger things have happened. Besides, I’m sure it’ll work out Morgan. You’ve just got to wait these slow periods out.”
I shrug and nod. Every once in a while, things do get quiet at the office for a couple weeks, but it had never been this slow before. Business is positively glacial at the moment, and my brow furrows, but then I shrug. Conor’s right, and I need to relax.
“Yeah, it’s probably nothing to worry about,” I grunt. “We’ll see.”
Then, we shoot the shit for a few more minutes chatting about nothing in particular. A pretty waitress with a big bust and bouncing blonde curls comes by to see if we need anything, and Conor’s immediately on his game.
“Yeah, you,” he purrs.
The woman smiles brightly and says, “Coming right up!” before sauntering away, wiggling her ass.
I shoot him a look of disgust mixed with admiration.
“I can’t believe that shit works,” is my rueful remark. “Chicks actually dig that?”
He leans back and spreads his arms out like an alpha male conquering his territory.
“Hell yeah, chicks love it! By the end of the night, she’ll be screaming my name,” he winks.
I roll my eyes.
“Not by the end of the night. More like in twenty minutes when you take her out back and fuck her against the wall.”
Conor looks thoughtful.
“That’s a possibility,” he acknowledges. “Although I was thinking of fucking her against a dumpster, and not against the wall. The walls here are brick,” he says with a nasty smirk. “It could be painful when things really start getting rough.”
I roll my eyes again because my friend is such a dirty bastard, but at least it’s entertaining. Meanwhile, my buddy turns back to me.
“So yeah, I’m covered for tonight. But what about you, my friend? Has fatherhood ruined your sex life?