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“What are you going to do?”
“Probably drive by the house again. See what I can see.”
“I’m worried.”
“You should be.”
John paused. “You’re still pissed at me, about the relapse thing?”
“Of course. You threw me under the bus. Now I’m running around trying to save your ass.” I tried to let it go, only because he was in trouble.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Whatever.”
John fell silent. “Gabby’s looking for you on that pro bono case. You should call her. We have to act like everything’s normal.”
“I gotta go,” I said, not wanting to talk to him anymore.
“Stay in touch. Bye.”
“Bye.”Bro.
Traffic was light, and I called my sister. “Gabby, hi. Sorry, I know you wanted to see me, but I got busy.”
“Where are you?”
“On the road.”
“Remember we have dinner with the client tonight. I mentioned it last week.”
Oops.I had forgotten. I would drive by Lemaire’s after dark. It would be less risky then anyway. “Who’s dinner with again?”
“Our client’s Chuck Whitman. He’s lead plaintiff in the Holmesburg Prison lawsuit. I want to double-check the Complaint with him before I file.”
“Okay, what time’s dinner?”
“Six o’clock. But can you come over early, so we can talk?”
“I can’t, I’m running late.”
“Too bad.” Gabby sounded disappointed. “Martin and I thought it would be good to spend some time together. You know, just us.”
I didn’t get it. “Why? Is something going on?”
Gabby paused. “TJ, I heard you relapsed.”
•••
I drove to Gabby’s on autopilot, my thoughts elsewhere. I hated that she thought I’d relapsed, too. Growing up, she was always so great to me, almost like my mother even though she was only two years older.
I found myself thinking of her Sweet Sixteen, held in our backyard with the Devlin party-machine in high gear. My parents loved to entertain, throwing big bashes for the holidays and inviting their friends, clients, and the parents of our teammates. Everybody got toknow each other over the years, combining friendship with business like a capitalistic hairball.
Ours was the best party house, spacious and designed for entertaining, and our friends loved to come because there were so many places we could get away from the adults. Cases of beer and soda got delivered and stacked behind the pool house, with nobody keeping track. Top-shelf booze was everywhere. Coolers outside were filled with beer, chardonnay, and rosé.
The party would start, and the adults helped themselves to drinks, looking the other way while we did, too. Most of the parents felt the way mine did, that kids were going to drink, so they might as well drink at home. I was borderline drunk at Gabby’s Sweet Sixteen, a pool party with my father grilling filets and my mother making Devlin Eggs. Afterward it was time for cake and candle-lighting, but I was behind the garage making out with Amy Gallagher. I was trying to unfasten her bathing suit top when I heard Gabby talking on the microphone we used for karaoke.
Thank you all for coming. I light the first candle for the people most important to me, my mom and dad. I love you, guys.
