Finding Isadora(26)

“We don’t have much in the bank,” Grace said.

“So Jimmy Lee said.”

“I have two thousand,” I said, knowing it wasn’t much.

“With any luck,” Gabriel said, “it won’t come to that. But the judge will require him to hand over his passport, so bring that along tomorrow, Grace, okay?”

She nodded. “Is there anything more we should know?”

“That’s it for now,” he said. He drained the last swallow of wine, eased Woodstock off his lap, and rose. As he walked past me, the fly of his jeans was at eye level. Faded denim, dusted with smoke-colored cat hair.

Well-worn denim hinting suggestively at what lay beneath. My fingers itched to pull those cat hairs off one by one. My theory about familiarity breeding sexual indifference was definitely not proving true. I leaped to my feet and took a couple of steps away. “Grace, do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

She hugged me. “No, hon, I’m okay. I’m putting my trust in Gabriel.”

“Then I’d better be on my way. I’ll try to swap shifts with one of the other vets so I can go to Jimmy Lee’s hearing.”

“Family support is good,” Gabriel said. “Shows he has a serious connection to this community.” His gaze drifted down to my shoulder. “How you getting home?”

I yanked my drooping sweater into place. “By bus. I don’t own a car.”

“I’ll drop you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll drop you.” For the first time, he sounded tired.

I realized it was almost midnight and he’d been working all day. “Thanks,” I murmured.

At the door, my mother reached out and gripped Gabriel by both shoulders. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Try not to worry. It’s early days yet. See you in the morning, Grace.”

He and I rode down in the elevator in silence. When we walked through the bland lobby and out into the cool evening, I said, “I’ll handle your fees. Grace and Jimmy Lee don’t have any money. If you need a retainer now, I can write you a check.” I bit my lip. “Though maybe I’ll need my two thousand for that recognizance you mentioned, in which case…”

He stared at me in the pallid artificial light above the apartment entrance and I stopped babbling.

“My car’s over there,” he said, and started to walk down the street.

I followed, keeping a clear foot away from him on the sidewalk.

He unlocked the passenger door of a beat-up old black Volvo, pulled it open, then started around to the driver’s side. Richard would have waited for me to get in, then closed the door behind me. When he’d first done it I’d been startled because it was one of those old-fashioned gestures my parents and their friends branded as chauvinistic. I’d quickly learned that Richard didn’t have a chauvinistic bone in his body, and I appreciated his gestures as courtesies. Ones he’d obviously learned from his mother and stepfather, not his dad.

Chuckling to myself, I hopped in. The roof light, which hadn’t come on when the door opened, flickered to life.

Gabriel opened the driver’s door and began to get in, then froze. I followed the direction of his gaze and hurriedly hauled up my sweater again. Then his gaze dropped and again I followed it, to see my nipples were beaded, poking at the loosely knit cotton.

I crossed my arms across my chest and he unfroze, with a muttered, “Fuck.” He swung into the car and slammed the door so hard it made me—and the car—jump. The roof light flickered again and went out, and I was grateful for the relative darkness.

Did Gabriel think I was coming on to him? “When I put on this sweater, I thought I’d be alone with Grace.” The words blurted out clumsily.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and lowered his head to rest on them. In a measured, gravelly tone, he said, “I know. Sorry, I shouldn’t have looked.”

“It’s, uh, okay.” Any man would look at a woman’s nipples. He was a man; I was a woman. For one treacherous moment, I wished it were that uncomplicated.

Gabriel sighed, straightened, and turned on the ignition.

“So, uh, about your fees?” I said.

He pulled away from the curb. “That’s between me and Jimmy Lee. He’s my client.”

“But I’ll foot the bill. Like I said, he doesn’t have any money.”

“We’ll deal with it later.”

“We’ll find a way of paying. You can’t do this pro bono.” I knew that lawyers sometimes worked free for clients who couldn’t afford the fee, and I didn’t want my father to be a charity case.

Gabriel glanced toward me, cocking an eyebrow. “I can do what I want.” His lips twitched in a wry grin. “Usually.” The grin widened and he shook his head at some private joke. “Where are we going? Do you live with Richard?”

“No.” The word burst out, making me feel foolish. After all, soon my fiancé and I would be living together. “I’m in the West End. If you go over the Burrard Bridge and turn left on Davie, I’ll tell you where to go from there.”

We drove in silence and my thoughts turned away from my disconcerting reaction to Gabriel to more serious matters. “I can’t believe Jimmy Lee could face a murder charge.”