Page 61 of Maxwell

“Sounds good.”

Jasmine left Maxwell’s office, her heart racing out of control as she walked into her father’s office.

“Morning, Dad.”

“Hi, Jay.”

As she and her father talked, she kept thinking about what Maxwell said. What ‘things’ did he want to talk about? And how was she supposed to concentrate on work between now and lunchtime?

* * *

The Catfish Cabin was a frame building with a hand-painted sign, tucked behind a plaza not too far from the office. The familiar scent of hot oil and their famous cornmeal muffins hit Jasmine’s nostrils the moment she and Maxwell walked through the door.

They placed their orders at the front counter and took a table number with them when they went to sit in a booth near one of the windows looking out at the parking lot.

“How did your father find this place?” Maxwell asked, looking around. “It’s kind of hidden.”

“He didn’t find it, actually. I did. There used to be a nail salon back here, and I came a couple of times since it was near the office. I happened to stop in here one day and try the food. It was so good I told my dad, and we had one of our lunch meetings here. He’s been hooked ever since.”

Maxwell sipped his iced tea and wrinkled his nose. “Goddamn. I’m leaving here with high cholesterol and diabetes.”

Jasmine laughed at his reaction. “What did you expect from a place like this?”

“You’re right. I’m sure the food is hella good though.”

“Believe me, it is.” She unwrapped her silverware from its paper napkin. “So, you said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“I did.” His face became serious. “I did what you asked and met with the last three women that I hurt.”

“When?” Jasmine asked, shocked.

“This weekend.”

Before she could reply, the waitress arrived with their meals.

“That was fast,” Maxwell said, looking over his order of catfish, hushpuppies, and fries.

Jasmine had chosen the whiting platter with fries and coleslaw.

“Can I get y’all anything else?” the waitress asked, hand on her hip.

They shook their heads.

“We’re good. Thanks,” Maxwell said.

“If you do, just holler.”

Jasmine picked up her fork. “I can’t believe you met with them already. I just made my request to you last week.”

“I didn’t want to wait.” He made the statement in a direct way, his slumberous dark eyes locked on her.

Heat crawled up her neck. “How did the meetings go?”

“Two out of three went well.” Maxwell picked up a hush puppy with his fingers. “The first woman slapped me. In public.”

Jasmine’s mouth fell open. “She slapped you?”

“In the middle of a dog park. I can still feel the sting in my jaw.” He flinched as if reliving the blow and rubbed his cheek.