www.BNN/FaithCorso/no-blood-money.com.”
“Corso must have liked it so much, she took it over.”
“Anyway, this morning’s front page is all about your ass-kicking.”
“I didn’t get my ass—”
“Dude, I saw the picture. Nice neck brace.”
“Damn, I knew I should have taken that thing off.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered. Looks like the picture was taken inside the ER. Kind of grainy, like maybe a nurse or another patient snapped it with a cell phone from far away and then had to blow it up. Anyway, it’s the other picture that’s the money shot. You and Andie arguing outside the hospital. The caption says your fiancée dumped you.”
Jack groaned.
“Clever headline, actually: ‘Broken Neck, Broken Heart for Shot Mom’s Lawyer.’”
“Oh, my God.”
“Is it true?” asked Theo. “You and Andie, kaput?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“Andie isn’t happy about the publicity this case is getting. She’s afraid the bureau might rethink her role as an undercover agent. When some jackass jumped out of the bushes and snapped our picture last night, it sent her over the edge. We decided to separate for a few days until the hoopla blows over.”
“Cool. So you’re single?”
“No, I’m not single. This is temporary.”
“Really? Do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporary custody of the children awarded to the mother, pending finalization of the divorce, which always means permanent? Or do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporarily laid off, which means permanent only ninety-nine percent of the time?”
“Why are you such a smart-ass?”
Jack heard his cell vibrating on the kitchen counter. He got up and checked it. The incoming number was unfamiliar at first, but something in the back of his mind made him realize that he’d seen it before. The text message confirmed his hunch. The sender was definitely no stranger.
“Something wrong?” asked Theo.
Jack cleared the look of surprise from his face. “It’s from Rene,” he said.
“Wha-a-at?” said Theo, chuckling. “See, dude, you are single. Man, word sure travels fast.”
Rene had been Jack’s most serious steady after his divorce—until Andie had come along. Jack had sometimes wondered “what might have been” between them if she hadn’t been so geographically undesirable. The last time they’d talked, Rene was committed to Children First in West Africa.
“She works at Jackson now,” said Jack.
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s where Celeste Laramore is hospitalized.”
“Interesting.”
“Says she needs to talk to me about the Laramores.” Jack glanced again at the message, then read aloud the last two words that Rene had typed in all caps. “VERY IMPORTANT.”
Chapter Fourteen
J ack drove across town to meet Rene for coffee.
They were in agreement that the hospital was not the place to have a talk about the Laramores, but selecting an alternative had been surprisingly difficult, each trying to suggest a spot that was familiar enough to be findable, while at the same time avoiding a place with too many memories. They’d settled on San Lazaro’s Café in Little Havana, close enough to Jackson for Rene to get away on her break, but far enough to ensure that none of the reporters on “coma watch” would happen by.
Jack found her at a booth in the back, near a sixty-year-old map of pre-Castro Cuba. She rose to greet him, and they exchanged an awkward air kiss that made them both smile.
“How you been?” he asked as they settled into the booth.
“Good, you?”
Rene signaled the waitress to bring another café con leche for Jack. Small talk abounded as they waited for the coffee to arrive. Memories flowed, too.
The first time Jack had laid eyes on Rene she had been covered with dust, like everything else in the grasslands of the Côte d’Ivoire when the Harmattan winds blew each autumn. She had been running a children’s clinic in Korhogo, and over a light lunch that
“Corso must have liked it so much, she took it over.”
“Anyway, this morning’s front page is all about your ass-kicking.”
“I didn’t get my ass—”
“Dude, I saw the picture. Nice neck brace.”
“Damn, I knew I should have taken that thing off.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered. Looks like the picture was taken inside the ER. Kind of grainy, like maybe a nurse or another patient snapped it with a cell phone from far away and then had to blow it up. Anyway, it’s the other picture that’s the money shot. You and Andie arguing outside the hospital. The caption says your fiancée dumped you.”
Jack groaned.
“Clever headline, actually: ‘Broken Neck, Broken Heart for Shot Mom’s Lawyer.’”
“Oh, my God.”
“Is it true?” asked Theo. “You and Andie, kaput?”
“No. Not exactly.”
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“Andie isn’t happy about the publicity this case is getting. She’s afraid the bureau might rethink her role as an undercover agent. When some jackass jumped out of the bushes and snapped our picture last night, it sent her over the edge. We decided to separate for a few days until the hoopla blows over.”
“Cool. So you’re single?”
“No, I’m not single. This is temporary.”
“Really? Do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporary custody of the children awarded to the mother, pending finalization of the divorce, which always means permanent? Or do you mean ‘temporary,’ as in temporarily laid off, which means permanent only ninety-nine percent of the time?”
“Why are you such a smart-ass?”
Jack heard his cell vibrating on the kitchen counter. He got up and checked it. The incoming number was unfamiliar at first, but something in the back of his mind made him realize that he’d seen it before. The text message confirmed his hunch. The sender was definitely no stranger.
“Something wrong?” asked Theo.
Jack cleared the look of surprise from his face. “It’s from Rene,” he said.
“Wha-a-at?” said Theo, chuckling. “See, dude, you are single. Man, word sure travels fast.”
Rene had been Jack’s most serious steady after his divorce—until Andie had come along. Jack had sometimes wondered “what might have been” between them if she hadn’t been so geographically undesirable. The last time they’d talked, Rene was committed to Children First in West Africa.
“She works at Jackson now,” said Jack.
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s where Celeste Laramore is hospitalized.”
“Interesting.”
“Says she needs to talk to me about the Laramores.” Jack glanced again at the message, then read aloud the last two words that Rene had typed in all caps. “VERY IMPORTANT.”
Chapter Fourteen
J ack drove across town to meet Rene for coffee.
They were in agreement that the hospital was not the place to have a talk about the Laramores, but selecting an alternative had been surprisingly difficult, each trying to suggest a spot that was familiar enough to be findable, while at the same time avoiding a place with too many memories. They’d settled on San Lazaro’s Café in Little Havana, close enough to Jackson for Rene to get away on her break, but far enough to ensure that none of the reporters on “coma watch” would happen by.
Jack found her at a booth in the back, near a sixty-year-old map of pre-Castro Cuba. She rose to greet him, and they exchanged an awkward air kiss that made them both smile.
“How you been?” he asked as they settled into the booth.
“Good, you?”
Rene signaled the waitress to bring another café con leche for Jack. Small talk abounded as they waited for the coffee to arrive. Memories flowed, too.
The first time Jack had laid eyes on Rene she had been covered with dust, like everything else in the grasslands of the Côte d’Ivoire when the Harmattan winds blew each autumn. She had been running a children’s clinic in Korhogo, and over a light lunch that
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