Closest To My Heart

Chapter Seven

Eleven minutes late, Tag breezed through the door of the restaurant and immediately spotted Jerry Sinclair seated at a window table on the far side of the room, casually sipping amber liquid from a lowball glass. Signaling to the hostess that he was meeting someone, Tag took a deep breath and started across the dining area, his mind scrambling for an excuse as to why he was late. Being that it was past noontime, he couldn't very well tell his client that he'd overslept, although that was exactly what had happened. Hell, if that fire truck hadn't passed by the building with its sirens blaring, Tag would probably still be passed out cold!

"Jerry," he said, extending his right hand as the other man rose to greet him. "Long time, no see. Sorry I'm late..."

Jerry waved off the apology and accepted the proffered handshake. He motioned for Tag to sit as he reclaimed his own seat, smoothing his tie over the slightest paunch at his midsection.

"Tag Fucking Vitale," he grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast before taking another sip. "What's it been, man, ten years?"

"At least," Tag nodded in agreement, and then glanced around the room. "Looks like you're doing well..."

Jerry leaned back in his chair and spread his hands wide as the familiar competitive spark ignited behind his eyes. He'd always been an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, especially on the pitcher's mound, and there was nothing he loved more than to sing his own praises. Still, he was an affable guy, and if it meant more jobs like this one coming his way, Tag was more than happy to indulge Jerry's egotistical side once in a while.

"What can I say, man? When you've got it, you've got it."

Tag fought the urge to roll his eyes and forced a smile instead.

Same old Jerry, he thought, unzipping the battered laptop carrier he used for client meetings.

"Hey, I heard through the grapevine that you got married?"

Tag stopped short, not quite sure how to answer. Funny, the grapevine never seemed to tell the whole story.

"Almost," he said. "We didn't quite make it that far."

"Tough break," Jerry said. "On the other hand, better to split before the wedding than after, right?"

A young blond girl appeared beside their table just then, sparing Tag the burden of a response as she asked for his drink order.

"Bring him a pint of the new Summer label, Allie," Jerry supplied, and then quirked a brow in Tag's direction. "Assuming you're still a beer drinker, that is..."

Tag nodded his assent as he pulled a disc from his bag, and the waitress twirled away from the table with a vow to return shortly.

"All the shots from the email are on here, plus a few others you might be interested in," Tag said, sliding the clear plastic case across the table before reaching into his bag again. Pulling out the folder with Jerry's name on it, he double-checked the contents inside before passing it across the table, as well. "I'll give you some hard copies, too, just in case you need them."

Jerry spread the folder open on the table and flipped through the images of his restaurant, pausing at one shot that Tag was particularly pleased with. It had taken three separate visits to get the lighting worked out, and he'd had to use Photoshop to edit out a dog that had stopped to take a dump in the foreground of his shot, but the end result was worth the effort. And judging from the look on his face, Jerry seemed to think so, too.

"I knew you could do it, man," he said, tucking the prints back into the folder and setting it aside with the disc as he fixed his eyes on Tag. "I'll be honest. I thought about going with a bigger outfit, but I like to help out the little guy whenever I can. Besides, like I said, I knew you could do it."