Page 131 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“Well, no. Only once,” I admit. “A couple weeks ago.”

“Huh.” Lisa digests this and munches some more before finally asking the question I’ve been dreading. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I… That’s a hell of a question, Lisa.” I laugh bitterly. “I wish I had a hell of an answer for it.”

“I think you do have an answer,” she says. “I think you just don’t want to admit it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Lisa turns to face me, taking hold of my arm. “Talk to me. Or talk to somebody, at least. Somebody who cares about you.”

Somebody who cares about me. Right.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I’ve been having some trust issues lately.” I reach over for my glass, but she moves it further away. “Particularly with people who care about me.”

Lisa shakes her head sadly but says nothing.

I just can’t seem to shake off this funk. Sure, during the day I play it cool and collected. I can project an image like I’ve got my shit together. Good thing, too, with Whitehall’s corruption scandal still dominating the local news. I’m on television somewhere in South Florida at least once every week, and even nationally once a month or so, since the Birchall-Jones and Ferry connections are interesting to people outside of south Florida.

“I don’t want to go home,” I finally admit.

“Ah.” Lisa nods sagely. “Now we’re starting to get to the real issue.”

“Yeah? And what, oh wise one, would that real issue be?”

It’s a stupid question. I know what it is. I’m lonely, and to a degree I’ve never felt before.

“Not everything’s black and white, you know.” Lisa pushes the bowl of snack mix away with a grimace. “I gotta stop it with that stuff. But anyway, black and white. Right and wrong. There’s… I know it’s a cliché, but there’s shades of rightness and wrongness.”

I shrug, but I do turn over her words in my mind.

“C’mon. Gabriel,” Lisa pleads. “Talk to me. Say something.”

“Fine. What the hell do you want me to say?” I snap back. “Yes. I get that there’s shades. And yes, I miss her. I miss her so fucking badly that ithurts. I don’t want to go home because it’sempty. She worked herself in there, dug herself in, and then she fucking ripped me apart.”

“I know she did. And was she right or wrong to do it?”

“She was wrong.” Why are you bothering me about this? Why can’t you just leave me alone to wallow in my bullshit? “I trusted her, Lisa.”

“Yes, yes. I know. I know the whole depressing story of it,” she says, rolling her eyes. “So, okay. She was wrong. She broke the law, and obviously I don’t condone that. But what shade of wrong was she? Was there anyrightthere, too?”

“No! Goddammit, Lisa,no. Therewasn’t!The ends do not justify the means. That’s… that’s the most basic guiding principle of- of the entire justice system! We are a nation of laws, and they must apply to everyone. Me. You. Her, too.”

“Oh, bravo, Gabriel!” Lisa slow-claps, twisting her face up in a disgusted scowl. “You almost sounded like you actually believed that.”

“Lisa, if you know what she did, then you know that it was unnecessary! Youknowhow the case turned out! Youknowthat I was able to get it taken care of without the need-” I glance over to see if Sam is listening, then continue in a whisper “-for Emily to commit a goddamnfelony!”

“Yeah? And what if you hadn’t?” She stares at me, eyes blazing with anger that I know I deserve, threatening to burn a hole straight through my face. “What if the DEA hadn’t come through for you? What if Sparky down at the lab had come up with a different result, and that stash of Ecstasy wasn’t the same as the other samples from the other convictions? What then?”

“Sam!” I ignore Lisa’s question, calling instead for the bartender. “Gimme another one, would you please?”

“You do it and I swear to God, Sam,” Lisa calls over her shoulder, without taking her eyes off me. “Very Bad Things will happen.”

“Oh, thank you! Little Miss Savior Complex! Keeping me from hurting myself.”

“You want a drink so bad? Here you go.”

Lisa picks up the tumbler she’d taken away from me, and twenty-five dollars of fifteen-year-old single Highland malt whisky splashes over my face and the front of my suit.

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