Page 27 of American Love Story

I was about to ask what movie he’d decided on when Dinorah looked over at us. Like usual, the “kids” had been talking with each other while the “grownups” did their own thing.

“Patrice, m’ijo, tell us about your new job. We want to know how it’s going over there.”

That got the conversation off in another direction, and as I talked, I tried to make myself forget that all I wanted to do was take my phone out and message Easton.

Easton

I was in the Bad Place.

Patrice hadn’t answered the text I’d sent over two hours ago. So I walked out of my office at 9:00 p.m. on Friday, feeling the weight of my phone like an anvil in my pocket.

I would have to sit and think about what was going on with me. My desperation for Patrice had reached the point where not getting a response from a text sent me into a tailspin of self-doubt. Every few minutes I was caught in a cycle of wanting to delete it, feeling stupid for sending it, and ultimately hating him for ignoring me.

“Man you look like you need a drink,” Ron said as he walked to the elevator where I was standing. “Did Sherriff Day cancel on you or something?”

I shook my head and sighed. “No, we’re still on for Monday. I know Cindy won’t like that I called this meeting without asking her.”

The look Ron gave me told me that he didn’t care about feelings if it meant getting a handle on what was going on with these stops.

“I hope that Day can be reasonable. I’m not trying to tell anyone how to do their job, but this approach of waiting until shit explodes to do anything seems reckless.”

Ron grunted as we got into the elevator. He was a big guy, Patrice’s size. Because everything these days ultimately led toPatrice. “It’s not about you telling him how to do his job, it’s about you having a conversation with him about problematic shit that’s happening on his watch. Day’s a good guy and I respect him. But “watch and wait until something worse happens” is not how you protect a community.”

“I can’t argue with that,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets.

Ron shook his head and went on. “The DA’s office and local law enforcement should be on the same page. They bring us the cases to prosecute, and if we can’t trust their judgement, it’s going to be a problem.”

We walked out of the elevator into a crisp Ithaca fall evening, as I mulled over Ron’s words. “I respect Day, too. I hope he can hear what we have to say.”

Ron clapped me on the back. “For what it’s worth, everyone in town respects you. Day won’t ignore something you bring to him.”

I didn’t know how to react to that. I worked my ass off and I’d proven myself in the courtroom in the years since I started as a prosecutor many times over. But that niggling doubt that people saw me as just a rich kid rebelling against his parents was ever present.

“Thanks for saying that Ron.”

He nodded as we reached the parking lot. “Don’t thank me, it’s the truth. You’re too hard on yourself. So you want to go for that beer? Vicky’s out of town with the kids seeing her sister in Syracuse.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Nice, nothing but beer and wings for the next two days, huh?” Ron’s deep laugh was something.

“You know it.”

Just as I was going to ask him where to meet him, my phone buzzed. I held up a finger at Ron and quickly got the phone out ofmy jacket pocket. As soon as I saw the screen, I felt a shiver run through my body.

Patrice.

I opened the message app and saw two photos: one of an enormous bowl of pumpkin and beef soup that looked delicious and the other of the Manhattan skyline.

Soup was good then went to the movies with C and J. Driving back up to Juanpa’s place, I’m staying with him tonight. Got this shot when we were driving over the Whitestone Bridge. If you’re up for it, hit me up later. I’ll be around…

My stomach did an actual flip.

I had no idea my body could do the things it had done in the last two minutes. What did the text mean? Did he want me to call him?

Ron cleared his throat, reminding me he was waiting for an answer about going for a drink. I slowly lifted my head and found him smirking at me. “I assume that text changed your plans for the evening.”

I blushed and, like a complete tool, pressed the screen against my chest.

He laughed and clapped my shoulder. “I gotta go, Mike’s already there and he eats all the good wings if I’m late, leaves all the sweet ones.” He made a hilarious face of disgust and I chuckled.