“I’m sorry about that. But before you start railing against Cubans in general, I should warn you. I’m half Cuban.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. My mother was Cuban. I wasn’t raised Cuban, but-”
“Then you’re not Cuban. Kid yourself all you want, but if you weren’t raised in that community, you are not part of that community. I spent my entire marriage trying to fit in, and as far as that man Alejandro is concerned, I might as well be from outer space.”
“Lindsey, let’s not get off track here. I’m talking about me representing you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, too. You’re afraid to represent me. You’re afraid of Alejandro Pintado. You’re afraid that if you defend the woman who is accused of murdering his beloved son, it will push you further and further away from being a part of a community that you can never be a part of.”
“That is totally unfair.”
“Don’t talk to me about fairness. Ask my husband how fair this is.”
Jack took the blow, though Lindsey seemed to regret having said it. “Believe me,” he said, “I couldn’t be more sorry about what happened to your family, and I am committed to doing what’s best for your son.”
“That’s very nice to hear. But let me tell you something about commitment. It’s a lot more than words.”
Now there was a speech he’d heard before. “I’m not just saying it to appease you. I mean it. The most important thing here is Brian.”
“And to hell with Lindsey,” she said, scoffing.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. So why don’t you just go to hell yourself, Jack.”
“What was that for?”
“Because you’re acting as if I have no one else to turn to. I’m not some know-nothing wife who followed her husband around the world from one military base to the next. I’ve met some very interesting people-people I would call friends.” She pulled her cell phone from her purse and started scrolling down the list of names in the address book feature. “Look, right here,” she said, showing the names and numbers to Jack. “I could call Jamie Dutton. She works in the State Department. Nancy Milama. She’s married to Tony Milama, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. People like that. I could call them, if I had to. They would help me.”
“Then call them.”
“I didn’t want to call them. I called you because I thought you were right for the job. I thought you might do the right thing, stand up to a guy like Alejandro Pintado and find out who really killed your son’s adoptive father. But it turns out you don’t even have the courage to reach up under your skirt and find your own balls.”
He tried to contain his anger, tried to understand this was a woman accused of murdering the father of her son. But he wasn’t Job. “Lindsey, get a grip on yourself right now, or you and I are done.”
She looked straight at him, her eyes clouded with a swirl of emotion. Anger. Disappointment. Then anger again. “I held my tongue before, Jack, but I’ll say it now.”
“Make it good. Because this may be the last time I’ll listen.”
She seemed about to explode. “I know you were playing games with me the other day when you said you didn’t know Brian was deaf.”
“It was no game. I had no idea.”
“Even with all the joy that Brian brought to me and Oscar, every now and then I still had these awful thoughts.”
“About Brian?”
“No. Never about Brian. About his birth parents. I wondered, Did they know their baby was deaf? And was that the reason they gave him up for adoption? It seemed like such a terrible thing to think about the people who had shared such a beautiful gift. I felt guilty for letting it even cross my mind. But now that I’ve met you face-to-face, now that I’ve gotten to know you and find out what you’re really like, I have to say: That sense of guilt is gone.”
Jack wanted to defend himself, but his thoughts were drifting back to Jessie. Beautiful, brilliant, and incredibly egocentric Jessie. He hated to think it, too. But maybe that was the reason she had opted for adoption.
And he had a little better understanding of Lindsey’s resentment.
She rose and threw a ten-dollar bill on the table to cover her share of the bill. “Good-bye, Mr. Swyteck. And congratulations. I think there’s probably just enough room for both you and Mr. Pintado in your self-absorbed little world.”
Jack sat in silence, staring at nothing, not sure what had just hit him as Lindsey turned and walked away.
10
She is totally yanking your chain,” said Theo.
“You think?” said Jack.
“How many times did I fire your ass when I was on death row?”
“About every other week.”
“See. Ten years later, I still can’t get rid of you.”
Jack was about to point out that this was his house, they were cooking his food, and Theo had his carcass parked on Jack’s couch every weekend, all of which raised some pretty serious questions as to who couldn’t get rid of whom. But Jack decided to leave it alone.
Theo turned his attention back to the stove. He was searing two thick tuna steaks in a crispy coating of lemon pepper, sesame seeds, and ginger. He looked like a short-order cook, spatula in hand, greasy white apron wrapped around his waist. To most people, Theo came across as the kind of guy whose idea of a seven-course meal was a six-pack and a bag of chips, but he was actually quite a good cook, and he enjoyed it. And like most good cooks, he hated meddlers in the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” he asked Jack.
Jack was standing at the sink, washing the mixing bowl. “Cleaning up,” he said.
“Can’t it wait?”
“I suppose. But I guess it’s sort of an old habit.”
“We talking about your ex again?”
“Yeah. Cindy never used to let me near the kitchen unless I cleaned up as I went along.”
Theo looked at him as if he were from another planet. “Clean up while you’re cooking? That’s like stopping in the middle of sex to do the fucking laundry.”
Jack shut off the water, considering it. “I think Cindy actually did that once.”
“Jacko, that’s one woman you don’t need back in your life. But this Lindsey, she’ll be back. Trust me.”
“Aw, the hell with it. I’m better off without her.” He shook his head. “But then there’s Brian. I mean, what if his mother is innocent? He’s getting the worst of it at both ends.”
Theo smiled knowingly as he flipped the tuna steaks. “She’s manipulatin’ you, man.”
“If she is, she’s doing one heck of a good job of it.”
“Which sort of makes you wonder, don’t it?”
“Wonder what?”
Theo lifted the pan from the flame, then slid the steaks onto dinner plates. “Maybe you should be listening to that Mr. Potato.”
“Pintado.”
“Whatever. My point is this: Just maybe-she’s not innocent.”
Theo grabbed the plates and started toward the family room. Jack stood frozen at the kitchen counter. He’d had his doubts, to be sure. But coming from Theo’s lips, just hearing it out loud, gave it an entirely different impact.
“You coming?” said Theo.
Jack was sifting through a stack of mail at the kitchen counter.
“Hey, Clarence Darrow. I said it’s time to eat.”
