I nodded, handed her the business card I keep in my wallet for the mechanic, and started for the cruiser.
She read the card. “See you tonight.”
That stopped me. “You’re going, too?”
“Your girlfriend sent me the event invite on Facebook, so yeah.”
“We’re not, I mean she’s not—”
“Go sleep.” I heard her laughing as she walked away.
CHAPTER TWO
THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE
Three hours in bed wasn’t enough to make up for the sleep I’d lost the night before, but I was feeling rested and, honestly, a little bit nervous. I was certain Julia had anticipated this and invited Jen so I wouldn’t feel quite so fish-out-of-watery.
After a shower and a shave, I spent too much time deciding what to wear. I went with khakis and a blue linen button-up with vertical stripes that I knew from experience would do a good job of concealing my Glock in its inside-the-waistband holster behind my right hip.
When I was as ready as I was going to get, I headed out to the gallery. It was in the East Village, which was really just the eastern edge of downtown Long Beach. Several years ago someone thought rebranding the area might be a good idea, so they hung a new name on the neighborhood and watched the gastropubs and retro-cool dive bars and art galleries sprout and blossom. I’d been spending a lot more time there since I’d been with Julia. The truth was that I was beginning to enjoy the neighborhood more, and that left me feeling conflicted. I worried about becoming so comfortable with the curated authenticity of the hipsters and gentrifiers that I’d lose my sense of the actual authenticity I needed on the job whenever I ventured out of the comfortable pockets of privilege where I found myself spending more and more of my time.
When I mentioned this to Julia, she just smiled at me. “What?” I’d asked her.
“That’s a good thing to be worried about.”
As I circled the block a second time looking for parking, I thought about pulling into a loading zone or a short-term spot. Nobody would ticket an unmarked police car. I decided against it, though, because I thought one of Julia’s friends might see me do it, and I didn’t want the first impression I made on anyone to be of a cop exploiting the perks of his job.
I found an empty space two blocks over on Elm and checked my watch. Five minutes to seven. Perfect timing. As I turned the corner onto Broadway, I could see Julia and Jen on the sidewalk up the street in front of the gallery. I picked up my pace.
Jen saw me first. She said something to Julia, who turned and smiled as I got close.
“They’re just about ready,” she said, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
I looked inside. A young guy with a thick hipster beard and waxed mustache was adjusting a cheese tray and lining up bottles of wine on a folding table. No one else was inside.
“And I was worried I’d be late.”
Julia laughed. “I should have mentioned that no one shows up to an art opening on time.”
“No one except the cops, apparently,” Jen said.
Julia laughed again. Her easy calmness impressed me. I hadn’t expected too much nervousness or anxiety from her, she was always steady that way. It was one of my favorite things about her. She never seemed to rattle. But I knew this show was a big deal for her. Things were really taking off with her photography. Not only was the show more exposure for her art, but she was hoping to sell, too. On the advice of the gallery owner, a man-bunned guy named Trev, she’d increased the asking prices for her new works. From what I could see, though, I was more concerned about how the evening would go than she was.
“Come inside,” Julia said. “I need to show you something.”
I followed her toward the back corner where her work was displayed. It looked good. She’d shown them all to me a few days earlier, when she was deciding which ones to include. She had a dozen photos of various sizes, some color, some black-and-white. Street photography, she called her style. She liked to find a subject, a person, and to photograph him or her in a way that situated the particular person in a particular place. Whether it was a homeless person downtown, a gangbanger in North Long Beach, a rich guy on Naples