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I just want more time with him. I want to figure out if he’s pissed about this date, and that’s why he’s blowing cold or if it’s because of what I did yesterday. Did the punishment not resolve things? I hoped it might mean that we were past it. At least, sorta past it.
It’s not even twenty miles from the courthouse to my apartment on Staten Island, but it’s going to take close to an hour since it’s the beginning of rush hour. Gabriele’s taking the Hugh L. Carey Tunnel instead of the Brooklyn Bridge. I almost wish he were taking the slower route, but I don’t want to sit here in silence and treat him like he’s a hired chauffeur. That feels incredibly rude since he’s giving up his evening to babysit me. It makes the chasm between us feel even wider.
I look down at my phone and inhale, bracing myself.
Me
I’m not coming from my place. I’ll meet you at Constantine’s. Besides it wouldn’t have made sense to drive to Staten Island just to come back into Manhattan.
The response is immediate.
Josh
No problem. It’ll give us time to chat.
Me
I’ll
Where the fuck am I supposed to be coming from?
Me
I’ll be coming from Rikers.
He definitely won’t meet me at Rikers Island. It’s the biggest jail in New York City. Considering they’re closing it, and I currently have a case against a prison guard there for unlawful use of force, it isn’t somewhere Josh wants to go. He might get his loafers dirty.
Josh
We can bump it back a little so you can get ready.
Asshole. He doesn’t think I’ll be presentable. I ought to wear someLittle House on the Prairiestyle dress. Cover up from head to toe and see how he feels about taking me to such a chic restaurant and hot nightclub. Maybe he’d break it off, so I don’t have to.
Me
It’s fine. I’ll be at Constantine’s at 7. See you then.
If he texts again, I’m ignoring it. I just hope he doesn’t show up at my door. That won’t go over well with Gabriele.
“He knows I’ll meet him at the restaurant.”
“He didn’t like that idea.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Not so much. He hinted I should go home and dress for the date.”
“You should dress like an Amish woman.”
I laugh, and his brow furrows.
“I told myself I should dress like Laura Ingalls.”
“Same difference. Anywhere sell those?”
“Not that I know of. They were sorta back in style a couple years ago, but not so much now.”
I was going to change, but now I can’t unless it’s putting on a pantsuit. I also didn’t think this through. Where would I shove my work bag? There’s privileged information in there. I couldn’t just toss it in his car and leave it for the evening. And if I did that, I’d have to go back to his car. Then he’d want to drive me home.
