“What the hell got into her?” Stan pondered.
“Damn it, let’s go talk to her,” Horace decided.
Alex clapped his shoulder. “Don’t bother. I’ll handle it,” he said, leaving them in the corridor as he went after her. He caught up to her easily on the carpeted staircase leading down toward the lobby and dining room.
“Let’s talk,” he said, clutching her wrist and guiding her through the restaurant.
Topaz strained against his hold. “Let go,” she ordered through clenched teeth while attempting to jerk herself free of his iron grip. She gasped in surprise and faint discomfort when his hand flexed briefly around her upper arm.
“Now, I’m not Horace or Stan,” he whispered close to her ear. “Don’t try that with me again,” he advised.
In the parking lot, Alex released her. “Don’t do this, Topaz. You have no idea what you could be getting into.”
“Hmph. That seems true of a lot of things lately,” she retorted.
“Situations like this can get messy, baby,” he warned, his eyes ablaze with a look of foreboding. “People like this don’t play fair.”
Topaz stepped right up to him and poked her index finger against the lapel of his sienna sport coat. “Don’t you dare pretend to be concerned about me after what you did,” she ordered, her lashes growing moist with tears.
“This has nothing to do with that.”
Topaz wanted to hit him. “What the hell does it have to do with? Or should I ask, who?”
“What?” he hissed, tilting his head as his eyes narrowed.
“I have to go,” she was saying with a wave of her hand.
Alex watched her sprint across the parking lot, settle into her Corvette, and speed away. He was so frustrated, he didn’t trust himself to return to the dining room and remained in the parking lot trying to calm himself. He was still outside when the group left the restaurant and waved off Beaumont Harris. Alex waited for the man to drive away before he approached the others.
“What’s his story?” he asked Stan and Horace.
“Lockhurst came back with a new figure. A bigger one.”
“Huge,” Stan indicated.
Alex watched them closely. “Is that right?”
“Hell yeah, that’s right,” Horace confirmed. “Our jaws damn near hit the floor when we heard it.”
“Topaz was mad as hell,” Stan recalled. “Guess she thought we were actin’ too impressed.”
Horace waved off the comment. “Hell, man, she knows we ain’t ’bout to sell ... she knows that, right, Lex?” he inquired, concerned by the man’s quiet.
Alex only shrugged.
“Makes you wonder, though,” Stan whispered, “what’s so special about our property to make these folks shell out all this cash?”
“Y’all should look into it,” Alex absently suggested. “Maybe that strip of land is worth more than you know,” he added, his mind still focused on Topaz.
The group thought it was a wonderful idea. As they discussed the particulars, Alex reached for his phone and dialed Beck Gillam’s number.
After a very long drive, Topaz returned home to indulge in a soothing bath in hopes of soaking away all remnants of the stressful luncheon. The aggravation with Horace, Stan, and the others drifted away easily. The run-in with Alex, however, wasn’t so easy to dismiss. Her lashes fluttered closed as she slid deeper into the fragrant tub of water. It seemed almost inconceivable that a relationship that bloomed so perfectly had become such a frustrating situation.
“Damn you, Alex,” Topaz grumbled, reaching for the remote resting along the oak-trimmed edge of the tub. She raised the volume of the slow groove being played by a local jazz and R&B radio station. A content smile touched her lips as the mellow song further relaxed her.
“And that was Bony James featuring Dave Hollister on your favorite place for smooth jazz and R and B. Coool 94.7. This is your host Dan Sweet. We’re gonna interrupt the mood just briefly here and take you to downtown Charlotte. We’ve got our ‘eye in the sky’ newscaster Shauna Wells touching down on Briarcliff Drive. What’s goin’ on, Shauna?”
“Thanks, Dan, I’m here on the corner of Briarcliff and Elm standing across the street from a spectacular sight.”
Topaz barely listened as the woman’s stern, authoritative voice boomed through the speakers. She hoped the broadcast would be brief and that the music would shortly resume.
“... once again, Top E Towing and Mechanical is ablaze and drawing quite a crowd of spectators.”
Topaz’s eyes snapped open and she jerked into an upright position.
“... this major fire is still going strong, Dan. Fire crews are working doggedly to control the blaze that only seems to be spreading ...”
Water sloshed outside the tub when Topaz stumbled out. Her heart raced as she ran into her bedroom and flipped on the television. Turning to one of the local channels, she received an eyewitness view of the story. She stood rooted to the spot, shaking her head in disbelief. Her knees weakened momentarily, but she resisted crumbling to the floor. Instead, she moved quickly. Choosing a pair of wrinkled jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, she dressed and stormed out of the house.
Fire crews, EMS personnel, and news vans crowded the corner and side street along Top E Towing and Mechanical. Topaz had to park her car several blocks away and run to the scene. Once there, she stood, not blinking—unmindful of the smoke, ashes, and fumes blowing into her face.
Someone grabbed her arm and Topaz turned to find several of her employees there. Her facade crumbled and she fell into their arms, accepting comfort from the burly men.
