Gabriel's Rapture by Sylvain Reynard

doesn’t feel safe.”
    “But you grew up in that house. What about you and Deb?”
    He shrugged and hid his expression behind a cup of coffee. “It’s over.”
    She gasped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
    Tom sipped his coffee stoically. “We had a difference of opinion. And her kids don’t like me.”
    Julia fidgeted with her silverware, lining them up so their ends were even.
    “So Deb sided with Natalie and Simon?”
    He shrugged again.
    “It was a long time coming. Truth is, I’m relieved. It feels good to be a free agent.” He winked at her conspiratorially.
    “I’m looking to buy a smaller house. I’d like to use some of the money I make to pay for your education.”
    Julia was surprised. Then she was angry. Her conflict with him had cost her and her father so much—too much to be remedied by a criminal record and some community service. She was scarred and her father lost his prospective wife and the Mitchell family home.
    “Dad, you should use the money for your retirement.”
    “I’m sure there will be enough for everything. And if you don’t want to use my money for school, then use it to buy beer. From now on, it’s just you and me kid.” He reached out a hand to ruffle Julia’s hair, his preferred gesture of affection.
    He excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving her alone to contemplate her half-eaten cheeseburger and her changed father. She was deep in thought, fingering the glass of ginger ale in front of her, when someone moved to occupy the stool next to her.
    “Hello, Jules.”
    Startled, Julia turned and found her former roommate, Natalie Lundy, sitting next to her.
    There was a time when Julia had laughingly called her former friend Jolene, for her beautiful and voluptuous features perfectly matched those described in the song. But that was before Natalie had betrayed her. Now her beauty seemed harsh and cold.
    As Julia stared at her, she noticed something painful about the way she was dressed—the vintage designer coat with the slightly frayed cuffs, the expensive boots that were worn and second-hand. On first glance, she looked rich and well dressed. But Julia glanced twice and saw what others could not see—the small town girl who was ashamed of her blue collar roots and wished to leave them far behind.
    “Merry Christmas, Natalie. What can I get for you?” Diane, the waitress, leaned over the counter.
    Julia watched as Natalie transformed from cold and sullen to cheerful and sunny, slipping into the local accent.
    “Merry Christmas, Diane. I’ll just have coffee. I can’t stay long.”
    The waitress smiled and poured coffee, then moved to wait on a group of Tom’s fellow volunteer firemen at the far end of the counter. As soon as her back was turned, Natalie’s demeanor changed. She glared at Julia with hate-filled eyes.
    “I need to talk to you.”
    “You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” Julia moved to stand, but Natalie subtly gripped her wrist.
    “Sit down and shut up, or I’ll make a scene.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. She smiled artificially. No one would know by looking at her that she was threatening Julia, who swallowed noisily and sat back down.
    Natalie released her arm with a punishing squeeze. “We need to talk about Simon.”
    Julia’s eyes darted toward the men’s room, hoping that her father would reappear.
    Natalie continued. “I’m going to assume that your recent misunderstanding with Simon was unintentional. You were upset; he said some things he shouldn’t have, you called the police.
    “Because of that misunderstanding, Simon now has a criminal record. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why that record needs to disappear before he runs for state Senate. You need to fix the misunderstanding. Today.”
    Natalie smiled and flipped her hair behind her shoulder, acting as if she and Julia were engaged in a friendly conversation.
    “There’s nothing I can do,” Julia mumbled. “He’s already