treinta y dos

For the first time in a long time, I slept. I didn’t wake until nearly nine in the morning, when my cell phone buzzed. It was my stepbrother Jake calling.

Jake. Jesse. Jail.

“Oh, my God, how is he?” I cried, snatching up my phone. “What’s happening?”

“He’s out.” Sleepy sounded extremely pleased with himself.

“He is?” I sat bolt upright in bed. “Is he all right? Where is he? What happened? Can I speak to him?”

“All charges dismissed. See, it pays to have the very best criminal attorney on your side. Got a DUI? Call the DUI Guy. Not that that was applicable in your boy’s case, but—”

I didn’t want to burst Jake’s bubble, since I knew it wasn’t his high-powered attorney’s skills, but my slick mediating that had gotten Jesse off the hook.

“Thanks so much, Jake,” I interrupted. “I really appreciate it. I’m sure Jesse does, too. Where is he? Can I speak to him?”

“He’s right here in the car with me. I’m driving him back to the Crossing because he says you have his car? Boy, that’s good, because if Five-Oh looked inside the BMW and found all that, er, contraband, even the DUI Guy wouldn’t have been able to get him off—”

“Jake, can I speak to Jesse?” Sometimes I wondered if all of my stepbrothers, with the exception of David, had been dropped repeatedly on the head as newborns.

“Uh . . .” I heard a slight murmuring, and then Jake came back on the line. “Sorry, Suze, maybe later, all right?”

I tried to keep the acid out of my tone because I knew none of it was Jake’s fault. He’d been a really good friend to both of us. But I was angry. “What?”

“Listen, Suze, don’t worry, nothing bad happened to him, he’s just a little worse for wear. I mean, come on, Suze.” Jake’s tone dropped to a whisper. “The guy spent the night in jail. No one wants to talk to their fiancée first thing when they get out of jail.”

“I would,” I said. I swung my legs over of the side of the bed. “I would want to talk to my fiancé first thing when I got out of jail. In fact, I thought we were going to head over to the arraignment together and I was going to serve as a character witness and—”

“Well, Suze, you know what? Sometimes there’s stuff men don’t want their lady involved in, and this is one of those things.”

“What lady? I’m not anyone’s lady. What the hell are you even talking about? And how could Jesse possibly not want me involved? I’m already involved. What happened? Did he get beat up in jail? Is there something he’s hiding? Put him on the phone right now, Jake, or I swear to God, I’ll—”

“I think it would be better if I got him home first and rested and fed and showered up,” Jake said in a more normal tone. “Then you can come over later and the two of you can talk. All righty, Suze?”

“All righty? Don’t you all righty me. Who are you, his new life coach?”

“See?” Jake was whispering again. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you down at the courthouse. You’re too emotional.”

“Emotional? Me? What about him? He’s the one who—”

“Picking up the groom from the courthouse after he’s spent the night in jail isn’t the job of the bride. It’s the job of the best man. Which is another reason why you guys should have appointed me as best man, and not groomsman. And I don’t know what’s up with this Paul guy, but do not, and I mean do not, ever bring up his name again around Jesse. Every time they mentioned it in court, this muscle in his face started twitching—”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of mentioning Paul, not now, or ever. But listen, you’ve got to tell me. Is it me Jesse’s mad at, or just Paul? Because honest to God, Jake, if he calls off the wedding, I’m going to lose it. That dress has been hanging in my closet for so long I think it’s got more cobwebs than my vagina.”

“Uh-oh,” Jake said. “I’m starting to lose you. I think I’ve just hit an area where there’s no cell service.”

“There aren’t any of those on the way from Monterey, you moron.”

“See you later this afternoon, Suze. Bye, Suze.” Jake hung up.

I lowered my cell phone and then sat there, feeling like punching something. Lucia had said everything was going to be all right, but as far as I could tell, her prediction was about as accurate as the local weather forecaster’s. It had called for sunshine, but as usual a thick marine layer hid the “mountain” view—and just about everything else, as well—outside my windows.

Gina was already up and out of the apartment—a text she’d left on my phone said she’d gone to an audition (Carmel-by-the-Sea’s outdoor theater was always putting on musicals), then to run errands.

This was fine with me. I had plenty of errands of my own.

“What’s this?” CeeCee asked, looking at the laptop and cashbox I set down on the table between us at the Happy Medium an hour later, after I’d showered, dressed, and met her for a breakfast of grits (her) and pancakes with extra tofu bacon (me, and only because the Happy Medium is vegetarian).

“Oh,” I said, swallowing a large gulp of coffee. “Just everything you need to break the story of the decade. Well, maybe not the decade, but the year, at least. Your editor is going to love you. You could probably get a job at the San Francisco Chronicle with a story this big.”

“I don’t want to work at the Chronicle.” CeeCee opened the cashbox. It was easy to do so, since the lid was broken, and hanging sadly on its hinges. “I just want off the police beat. Geez, Suze! How much money’s in here, anyway?”

“Fifty grand. Don’t look at what’s on the thumb drives around here, or in front of anyone under eighteen.” I glanced around the café, which was bustling. It did some of its best business during the breakfast hour, which was why Gina was dying to snag the Saturday morning shift. CeeCee’s aunt had assured her she’d get her chance, but only after she’d “paid her dues” with the less busy night shifts. “It’s pretty gross.”

“Oh, yeah?” CeeCee, unfazed, was already working on deciphering the password on the laptop. “What’s up?”