Gabriel - Jessie Cooke Page 0,8

to you earlier, I was going to...”

“Is this what you and I have been about?” he blurted out, unable to stop himself. “Did you use me to get to him?”

“Will you lower your voice, please?” She looked over her shoulder at the door behind her, and then stepped down off the porch. “I told my parents you were friends, but I’d really rather they didn’t hear what we we’re talking about, if you don’t mind.”

“And why is that?” Blackheart asked.

“Because they don’t know that I’ve figured most of this out...yet. They don’t know who you are.”

“Neither do you, yet,” he said, ominously. Gabe noticed again how their expressions were just the same as they stared at each other. And then Blackheart went on to ask, “So how did you know to look for me, if your mother didn’t tell you?”

“My mother wasn’t able to tell me anything, unfortunately,” she said, sounding hurt, or maybe betrayed. “But really, I don’t want to talk about this here. There’s a coffee shop on Jefferson Highway called Brew Ha Ha. Will you meet me there in half an hour? I’ll explain everything then, I promise.” Blackheart looked annoyed, but he nodded. Patrice waited for them to get on their bikes and drive away before going back inside the house, and Gabe’s heart didn’t slow down in his chest until she was out of sight. She may have just been using him, but along the way he was developing real feelings for her that weren’t just simply going to disappear. Still, he thought, looking over at Blackheart, if he was forced to choose, even at that moment, he already knew there was no contest. His loyalties lay with the man who had kept all of his promises. The man who had paid for his parents’ funerals, and probably put that hundred thousand dollars into Gabe’s account, out of his own pocket. Blackheart had never let him down, not once, and no matter what he wanted to do about Patrice and whatever she had to tell them at the coffee shop, Gabriel already knew which side he was going to be on.

3

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Gabe and Blackheart had made it to the coffee shop and they’d been waiting for fifteen minutes in silence. Blackheart sipped his chicory coffee and looked as calm as if he were simply having a nice visit on a hot afternoon in Louisiana. Gabe wished he knew how he did it. His insides were quivering and it was all he could do to keep his voice from doing the same when he spoke.

“She’s the only one who knows that at this point, I suppose,” Blackheart said. “Here she is, so I guess we’ll know soon enough.”

Gabe looked over in the direction Blackheart was looking. Patrice had just parked and was stepping out of her car. She’d put on a pair of flip-flops, but other than that, she looked the same as she had half an hour before and once again his body responded. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she bent back into the car door to retrieve something and he had to force his eyes away from her round butt and long, tan legs before she stood up and caught him looking. They watched her approach, with a folder in each hand. Blackheart stood up when she got close...always the gentleman...so Gabe did the same. “Coffee?” Blackheart asked.

She glanced at Gabe and then back at Blackheart before sitting down in the seat that was already pulled out for her. “No, thank you.” Blackheart and Gabe both sat down and Patrice pushed one of the folders over in front of Blackheart. “What do you know about this?” she said. Blackheart opened the folder. Gabe couldn’t see what he was looking at, but whatever it was made his right eyebrow stand up as he read through the papers, and something besides the calm, coolness showed in his eyes. He turned each piece of paper over on its face as he read through the next one and meanwhile Patrice and Gabe sat quietly and waited. Blackheart took his time, which to Gabe seemed like forever, and when he finally closed the folder he looked back at Patrice and Gabe could actually hear the sympathy in his voice as he said:

“This was your mother?”

“Yes. Do you remember her now?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding sincere. “I don’t.”

Patrice narrowed her eyes like she didn’t believe him, before handing over the