The Pull of Gravity by Brett Battles

seldom worked on my shifts and didn’t know me that well, was trying to protect Isabel in case I thought she was the problem.
    “It’s okay,” I said to Rina. I looked at Isabel again. Some of the anger had begun to leave her eyes, but it wasn’t completely gone. What surprised me was, there were no tears. “The guy was an asshole. I just want to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”
    “Only a scratch,” she said.
    Hesitantly, she moved the hand I thought had been holding up her bikini, revealing a small scratch just above her left collarbone. I looked around. Lamie, one of the other dancers, was standing nearby.
    “Go get a wet napkin from Cathy,” I told her.
    I turned back to Isabel. “Can you tell me what happened?”
    “He keep trying to touch me,” she said. “In places I don’t want him to, di ba ? He said he bought me a drink, so it’s his right.”
    “Did you tell him no?” I asked.
    “Of course. Many times.” She paused. “When he try to pull off my top, that’s when I yell. I’m sorry, Papa. I know it’s my job, but I just didn’t like him.” A single tear escaped down her cheek, but, as far as I could remember, it was the only one all night.
    Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to find Lamie with the napkin I’d asked for. Instead I found Larry standing there holding out a cup.
    “Tea,” he said. “Maybe it will help.”
    My thought was that tea was probably not strong enough, but Isabel reached forward and took the cup. “Thank you,” she told him.
    “I’m sorry,” Larry said tentatively. “For what happened, I mean.”
    Isabel shook her head. “It’s okay.” She took a sip of the tea.
    “Do you want to go home?” I asked.
    “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll be okay.”
    “He was just a bad man,” Rina said. “He won’t come back.”
    She patted Isabel on the shoulder, smiling reassuringly. Isabel’s own smile wasn’t as confident.
    Lamie finally showed up with the napkin, and I let her clean Isabel’s scratch. Within ten minutes, the whole place seemed back to normal, Isabel included. Larry left not long after that, but he made a point to check on Isabel before saying goodbye.
    He had told me earlier he was going to Manila on Sunday to avoid driving down on the same day he flew out. So when we shook hands, I was sure that would be the last time I saw Larry Adams.
    I was wrong.

CHAPTER NINE

    When I came into work that Sunday night, the second to last thing I expected was Isabel showing up. I had told her just before she went home the previous night that she should take Sunday off. She’d only been working at The Lounge for around five months at that point, and though she was good at getting guys to buy her lady drinks—drinks for the girls that they got a cut of—she had yet to go out on an EWR. I figured with the incident the night before, she could use a day off to think about things. I would have laid better than even odds she was going to quit altogether.
    But Isabel showed up right on time, as if nothing had happened. I stopped her as she walked to the back to change, and asked if she was okay.
    “Fine, Papa,” she said, smiling.
    Thirty minutes later, Larry arrived. That was the last thing I expected. At that time on a Sunday night, he was the only customer in the place.
    “I thought you left already,” I said as soon as I saw him.
    “Decided to wait until tomorrow,” he said with no further explanation.
    I had a few managerial items to take care of, so I left Larry at the bar and went to the small office in back. When I came back out twenty minutes later, Larry had moved. I looked around and spotted him sitting at the table in the back corner, talking with Isabel.
    I got a beer from the bar, and started to head over to them.
    “Wait,” Cathy said.
    I stopped. “What?”
    “Give them a little time alone.”
    “Who? Larry and Isabel?”
    She shook her head, an expression of disbelief on her face. “Sometimes, Doc, you