I KNEW LITTLE AT this point about being a parent, but I was already getting a crash course about how resilient children could be.
By the time we got back to River Street Place, Richard informed me that he was already hungry, and asked if he could have some of Spike and Rosie’s pizza. I asked if he wanted it heated up. He said he would be fine eating it the way it was. I set him up at the table in the kitchen. He asked if it was all right to feed Rosie some.
I smiled at him and said, “That’s between you and Rosie.”
Then I said: “Are you okay?”
He nodded, looking at me with big, dark eyes.
“That was just something I call dumb-guy stuff,” I said.
He tilted his head slightly, suddenly curious.
“Do girls do dumb-guy stuff, too?” he said.
“You have no idea,” I said.
He was still at the table when Richie got to the house. I didn’t even wait for him to take his own peacoat off before telling him what had happened at Santarpio’s, keeping my voice as quiet as I could, leaving out nothing.
“He had a gun out,” Richie said when I finished. “Near my child.”
“Yes,” I said. “He was on me before I could do anything about it.”
“Do what?” he said. “Start shooting with my son in the car?”
“Richie,” I said. “I know you’re upset. I’m upset.”
He took in a couple big gulps of air, let them out.
“I know,” he said.
“No more pizza!” we heard from the kitchen, and then the sound of the boy’s laughter.
“He threatened my son,” Richie said. “I can’t let that stand.”
“I don’t know who he is, or who sent him to follow me in the first place,” I said.
“I’m going to find out,” Richie said. “Or my father is.”
“Please don’t,” I said, and then told him about my lunch with his father, and what we had discussed, and once again asked Richie to please let me handle this.
“How did handling things yourself work out for you tonight?” he said.
I had no answer for that.
“Who would do something like that in front of a child?” Richie said.
“People like this,” I said.
“Like my father, you mean.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I said.
“You’ve accepted my help before,” Richie said. “And Desmond’s.”
“And I promise you,” I said, “I will ask for it again if I need it.”
“You don’t want me to tell him,” he said.
“For now,” I said.
“Secrets,” Richie said, shaking his head.
“Your family is good at them,” I said.
“I will protect my family,” Richie said.
“I’ve protected it, too,” I said.
We stood there, as we heard another shout of laughter from the kitchen. Richie took my face in his hands and gently kissed me.
“I love you,” he said.
“I know,” I said.
“But I can’t let him be around you right now,” he said.
“I know,” I said.
Richard came running into the front hall, chased by Rosie. When he was close, I leaned down and took his face into my hands. He looked up at me and said, “When can I come back, Sunny ma’am?”
“Soon,” I said.
They left. I watched them go. Sometimes being brave wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
AN HOUR LATER Darcy Gaines called and told me that the prints had come back and that Gabriel Jabari wasn’t his real name, but that he had done time at Dannemora in upstate New York, a felony for pimping and pandering in what Darcy called the big, bad city.
“What’s his real name?” I said.
“Gabriel Lister,” she said.
We go way back, Natalie had said.
“Gabriel Jabari’s real name is Gabriel Lister,” I said.
“Yup,” Darcy said.
It was as if the air around me in the kitchen had suddenly rearranged itself, and then distilled somehow. I took in some of it, then slowly let it out.
“Is there a next of kin listed as an emergency contact on his sheet, by any chance?” I said.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Darcy said. “A sister in Boston, lived on Revere Street. Natalie Goddard. Must be her married name.”
“Not exactly,” I said.
“You know her?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” I said.
“Is this helpful?”
“Extremely,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stared through the liquid sunshine in my glass.
“You know how you hold a grudge?” I said to Darcy.
“How?”
“You wait,” I said.