hand shakes uncontrollably as I set the receiver back in its cradle. Gwen rests her hand softly on mine. I crumble to the sofa, my sobs coming out in half-cries, half-whimpers.
She squeezes me tight. “What happened?”
“Weston…Gabe…” At first, I can’t quite speak. My cries muffle every word I try to utter. I close my eyes and suck in a calming breath. “Gabe…Gabe went to see Weston…”
Gwen gulps. She knows Gabe. She can probably guess what I’m about to say.
“He went ballistic…” I trail off, my voice surprisingly calm. And then, as I tell her what happened, I cannot believe my own words. “He barged into his office, and beat him within an inch of his life.”
“Oh fuck,” Gwen whispers. She knows Gabe’s history. She knows he already has a record for assault. She knows he’s done for.
I’m consumed with worry for Gabe. But I’m even more worried about Weston. Will he be okay? “It sounds really bad, Gwen. Bridget told me Weston is in the hospital. I begged her to give me more details, but she wouldn’t tell me anything more. Her voice was so cold.”
“This is bad news for Gabe,” Gwen says, stating the obvious.
“I know,” I say, my words small. “With his record and his MMA training.”
“He could be charged for aggravated assault,” she says. “His body is a weapon.”
Damn, I should have known something like this would eventually happen.
I bury my head in my hands. “Bridget is going to bury him, she’s going to skin him alive.”
“You mentioned she was a criminal lawyer?”
I wince as a wave of nausea washes over me. “Yes, and she’s a shark.” I know this; the way she carries herself, the intensity of her gaze when she gets a point across. And I also know this because of the stories I’ve heard from Weston. She’s sweet and lovely as pie but you can tell there’s a tiger, a whole other person hidden underneath.
Gwen holds me tighter but doesn’t say a thing.
I pry myself from her. I need to get to Gabe. I need to help him out. How? I’m not sure but I know I need to be there for him. “I need to go see him,” I tell Gwen. “Now.”
Gwen is a godsend. She calls Caroline, tells her there’s been an emergency and asks her to keep the girls for a little longer. She drives me to the city because I’m in no state to drive. She repeatedly eyes the scrap of paper I’ve given her, calls Greg on her Bluetooth, and asks him he if knows a good criminal defense lawyer, or someone who knows a good criminal defense lawyer. The woman is all over it. She reminds me of Bridget. And as my thoughts are brought back to the shark, my stomach turns a little.
I stare blankly at the road ahead of us, not taking in a single detail. I need to know more. I want to know more. I decide to call Kathryn and am relieved and surprised to catch her still at the office.
She’s completely shaken up.
She tells me a large man came barging in at around noon, dressed in sweat pants and a grey t-shirt. She tells me his hair was unkempt, he had a thin beard, and looked crazed. Apparently, she told him he couldn’t see Mr. Hanson without an appointment. But he barged in anyway and slammed the door behind him. She heard him screaming through the door, cursing, shouting unintelligible things. Then she heard the sound of slamming and crashing. She wanted to go in and help, but was too afraid.
At this point, she decided to pick up the phone and call the police. She didn’t know what else to do.
The man came out and fell on the chair in the reception area, no more than fifteen feet away from her. She tells me she has never feared for her life more than she did at that moment. She wanted to go help out her boss, but terror had her frozen to her chair. She ventured a look at him from the corner of her eye. The man was clearly distraught, he was crying; loud horrible sobs. He buried his head in his hands, and scraped at his long hair repeatedly. And when he caught her eye, she didn’t flinch, for apparently, all she saw in his eyes was sorrow. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.
The man was still sitting in the chair when the police came and he didn’t struggle