"You're twenty-two. It's not cradle-robbing."
"With Lily, it would be. She's a very young eighteen. I don't date girls who hang out at the clubhouse. Ever. Did you actually see them?"
"I'm not judging."
He laughed. "Judge away. That is not my dating pool. I mostly go out with girls from school. Not a lot of that, though. I'm too busy, and it's too complicated. Either way, no one expects me to bring casual dates to the clubhouse."
"If you need me, I'm there."
"Okay. I, um, wouldn't make plans for next Saturday then. If you want me to keep my mouth shut a little longer, I will, but I'd rather come clean with my dad."
"Just warn me, and I'll talk to Gabriel. We can both get the this-is-a-bad-idea speech at once."
"I know." He took a long drink of his beer, then said, "But it's not going to change anything, right?"
"Not for me."
"Good." He put the beer aside and pulled me over.
--
When I told Ricky about his late-night visitor, he didn't seem too concerned. He doubted it had anything to do with the club. There were territorial issues, of course. I'd gotten a crash course on that from Ricky a while back. In Chicago, there were Illinois natives the Outlaws and the Hell's Lovers as well as chapters of other gangs, like the Hells Angels and Wheels of Soul. They were all much bigger than Satan's Saints, and the Saints basically stayed out of their way, having no interest in expanding their territory. As for "territory" in their less-than-legal activities, Ricky said it didn't overlap much with others'. His father had carved out their own niche.
Most likely, Ricky figured, it was exactly what I'd suspected--a third-rate reporter hoping for a story. If the guy came around again, he'd take care of it.
--
It was probably a good thing I'd be spending Sunday night at my apartment. TC was not impressed with my gallivanting. Can't blame him, really. Get trapped in a basement, finally make it home . . . and your damn owner only pops in on breaks to give you food and water before vanishing again.
I got back an hour before Gabriel was due to arrive. I had a call from Howard, which I returned. Just a check-in for my mother--I'd gotten busy and forgotten yesterday. TC spent the next half hour following me and jumping onto the nearest tall object to give me the stink-eye. When a rap came at the door, he planted himself in front of it, as if forbidding me to answer. I moved past him. He stalked back into the living room.
I opened the door to find Gabriel standing there, a coffee in hand. He passed it to me. "Yes, I'm early, but I need to get a photograph of Seanna from Rose. I'll give you this while it's still warm."
"Thank you." When he started to go, I stepped into the hall after him. "Gabriel?"
"Hmm?"
He turned. His shades were on, but I didn't need to see his eyes to know he was still in a good mood. The mocha suggested it. His stance and expression, relaxed and at ease, confirmed it. I hated to screw that up. I really did. But I had to warn him.
"She knows. Rose, I mean. If you planned to grab a photo and not mention why . . . She already knows."
"Ah."
"I'm sorry," I said, setting my drink down. "I asked her if you'd been to the station, and . . ."
"She didn't know what you were talking about. You had no reason to think I wouldn't have told her. I intended to. I just hadn't gotten to it. I'll apologize, then, for putting you in that position."
His face was still relaxed, no sign of concern. When I glanced up, he lifted his shades onto his forehead, and there was nothing more to see in his eyes. Calm and centered.
"Okay," I said. "I just wanted to warn you."
"I'd need to explain when I asked for photos of Seanna anyway. It's not as if I'd want a few for decorating my apartment." A quirk of his lips, no bitterness in his eyes. "This saves me from having that conversation, and since it saves you from having to listen to it, we'll go over together."
SILENCE
Gabriel looked better than Rose had seen him in weeks. Happier than she'd seen him in . . . Well, that was harder. Even as a child, "happy" was never a word she'd use to describe Gabriel. Not angry or sad, either. His emotional continuum seemed to range from content to unsettled. Today, he was closer to happy than she'd have thought possible.
The reason for his mood was obvious. Eden had forgiven him. Oh, Rose was sure there was more to it than that--work must be going well, his schedule easing, his leg healing, life moving back on track. But the reconciliation was significant. The cards had foretold it, in their damnably decisive way. There were, as always, two choices, two paths. Gabriel would win Eden back and ease further out of isolation. Or he would not, and he'd shut down again.