the way I was wired.
I sat at my small breakfast bar, staring out at the snow swirling against the grainy darkness of the night. It was too wet to settle, but it was going to be a cold and cheerless day. As I waited for the thin light of morning to filter through my tenth floor window, I’d already left a message with my personal assistant, Gary, to let him know that I was taking the morning off for personal time but to pick up my lunchtime deli sandwich as usual, please.
The American Bar Association recommended that all lawyers offer 50 hours pro bono each year, and it had been made a requirement of any new lawyers who wanted to be admitted to the ABA. It looked like I’d be getting my hours in early this year.
By 5.30am, I decided that Rick needed to share in my misery. Anyway, Cady would have left for work an hour ago and would be starting her breakfast show shortly. It was 50/50 whether Rick would have gone back to bed or gone to the gym.
I called his cell phone and his grumpy voice was slightly breathless when he answered. I guessed he was on a treadmill, and shuddered at the thought. I took a hot yoga class once a week to de-stress, but treadmills, gyms and weights were anathema to me; and even though Rick had gifted me a lifetime membership to his gym, hot yoga had been the only class that could tempt me. This was New York in January, and when Rick had said the word ‘hot’, he’d said enough.
“Grace, you alright, luv?”
“Just peachy, Rick. It’s your knob-head friend who’s in trouble.”
I heard Rick groan. “What’s the idiot done now?”
“Only gotten himself arrested.”
“What?!”
“Two felonies and an arraignment in five hours. He broke into an animal shelter and tried to dognap all the inmates. He had six puppies stuffed in his jacket pockets when the police caught him. He says you’ll post bail.”
For a moment there was silence and I checked that the call hadn’t dropped.
“Rick? Hello?”
“Sorry … I just … bloody hell! He did what?! I can’t believe he’d be so stup— actually, I can. That soppy bugger. Okay, what do you need me to do?”
“The arraignment will be at the New York City Criminal Court on Center Street. Can you be there by ten? We might have to wait around until they call Vince’s case and I don’t know how long that will be. Bring your credit card.”
“Crap! Yeah, okay. Um, how much do you think bail will be, Grace? I’m happy—sort of—to pay it, but what with the wedding and all, funds are a bit tight.”
I held back a sigh. No one was getting out of this unscathed.
“I honestly don’t know, Rick, but the figure I have in my head is $5,000. It could be less, it could be more. But just tell me this: he says he’s never been arrested for anything before—is he telling me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Because if I find out he’s been economical with the aforesaid truth…”
“Nah, you’re alright there, Grace. He doesn’t even have a parking ticket. The tight bugger doesn’t own a car and walks everywhere.”
“Good, that helps. The judge will be more lenient on a first offense.” I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Okay, I’ll see you at ten.”
We said goodbye and I felt a small weight lift. Knowing that Rick would be there to support me in all his formidable sternness was a relief.
Rick tended to overthink everything which made him the complete opposite of Vince, and of Cady, too, for that matter. If anything, Cady and Vince seemed like a better fit from an outsider’s point of view as both had a free-wheeling attitude to life. Rick and I were the thinkers and planners. But maybe opposites attract. Although not in my case. Not the knob-head.
I dressed in my favorite charcoal gray pantsuit with cerise silk blouse. I always felt confident in that outfit: powerful and feminine. I dropped a pair of pumps into my briefcase and pulled on my comfortable Uggs, thick coat, scarf, gloves and woollen beanie.
Hat hair was an inevitable part of city life in the winter.
First stop was Vince’s apartment again.
He’d given me strict instructions on what and how much to feed his dogs, and asked—or rather begged—that I spend ten minutes throwing a ball for Tyson in the back yard. I agreed: as long as