In thinking about Grace, Julia wondered if a small prayer to Grace for both herself and Gabriel would be efficacious, for Grace was a true saint, a heavenly mother, and one that would no doubt send help to her children. So while St. Lucy went on vacation with her beloved Aaron, Julia turned her attention upward and begged for her heavenly mother’s intercession in all of their lives, lighting a candle in the window of her small studio on a lonely Friday night in Grace’s memory. And before she crawled into her single bed with her velveteen rabbit, she resolved to accept Aaron’s gift graciously, as evidence of her own newfound openness to charity and her ability to swallow her pride when appropriate. Which meant, not surprisingly, that her deadly sin was not so deadly.
***
In Paul’s absence, Julia found herself spending a long Saturday at the library, working on her thesis proposal in Professor Emerson’s carrel. Part of her secretly hoped that The Professor would surprise her again, but he didn’t. And his words came back to her, “I’ll see you Wednesday. If I’m still here.”
Julia realized that despite what Rachel said, it was more than possible that Gabriel had a girlfriend named Paulina. Julia remembered that Gabriel had assigned the chimes of Big Ben to Paulina’s ring tone. Was Paulina in London? Was she English? Or was there something about the chimes that Gabriel thought was important? Julia looked up Big Ben on Wikipedia, but did not find anything particularly illuminating.
(Wikipedia can be like that.)
She wasn’t naïve, despite what Gabriel thought of her. She knew he wasn’t a virgin and that he hadn’t been when she first met him. Still, knowing it and having it flaunted in front of her face were two very different things.
Her thoughts drifted to Gabriel and Paulina or some nameless, faceless girl, skin against skin, their bodies entwined. She saw Gabriel kissing the girl’s lips and exploring her body with his mouth, his hands, his eyes. She saw Gabriel giving and receiving physical pleasure from some tall, perfect, blonde. She imagined Gabriel in ecstasy, screaming the girl’s name, gazing deeply into her eyes as his body climaxed. She thought of Gabriel becoming one with some other soul, belonging in this way to some other girl. Would she love Gabriel? Be kind to Gabriel? Would she want him to be a better man, or just want him for his body, his passion, his animalistic nature? Would she even care that behind those beautiful eyes was the soul of a man long gone, wounded now and in need of both redemption and repair? Or would she want to drag him deeper down, ensnaring him with her body and her fingernails?
The thought of Gabriel taking another girl, any girl, to his bed, perchance to his soul, wounded her deeply. But somehow, the thought that there was another girl who warmed his bed for more than just one night was absolutely devastating—because she had wanted to be his girl, forever.
However sad and sordid her imaginings were, they didn’t stop her from somewhat pathetically wearing his green cashmere sweater to the library and hugging her arms across her chest, just to embrace herself with his softness and his scent. For that seemed to be the closest she was ever going to come to having his body next to hers.
In Professor Emerson’s carrel, Julia put away Paul’s CD in favor of listening to Yael Naim. Julia loved the song Far Far, although she had no idea how apt Yael’s words were. Julia had spent most of her life waiting for good things to happen, keeping her hopes and dreams to herself. But soon there would come a day when she would have to make something happen.
She found the music soothing and distracting, and it enabled her to make a lot of progress on her thesis proposal as she worked away until the library’s close.
Leaving the library, she placed her earphones firmly in her ears and disdained the hot dog cart outside in favor of a liquid dinner. She purchased a very large mango smoothie and began to walk home, sipping her meal and thinking. Because she was deep in thought, wondering where Gabriel was and what he was doing, she almost missed Ethan, who waved at her as she came across the long line-up in front of Lobby.
“Hey, Ethan.” She smiled as she took the ear buds out of her ears.
He gestured to her to come closer. “Hi, Julia. Thanks again for helping with my text to Raphaela. She really liked it.” If Ethan could have blushed, he would have; his dark eyes sparkled, and he smiled widely. “She’s teaching me Italian now.”
Julia grinned, happy that he and his girlfriend were happy. “So, how are things tonight? Lots of people?” She glanced at the long line.
“I’m about to let some more people in, but I have to take someone out first.”
“Really? That sounds ominous.”
He shook his head. “Your friend is in there drinking his ass off. The bartender is refusing to serve him, which means I need to put him in a cab and send him home.”
Julia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Gabriel’s here? What about Paulina?
“The last time I tried to throw him out he took a swing at me. Right now, I’m just waiting for one of the other bouncers to replace me on the line. I’m going to have to go in to remove him and probably take back-up.” He looked at Julia appraisingly. “Unless you can persuade him to come out peaceably.”
Julia shook her head violently. “Are you kidding? He won’t listen to me. I’m not even his friend.”
“That’s not the impression I got when you were in here, but I get it. It’s cool.” He shrugged nonchalantly and looked at his watch.
Julia sipped her smoothie and began thinking about her promise to Rachel. She wondered if this constituted a case in which she was morally obligated to watch out for Gabriel. What if I walk away and he ends up in jail? He tried to be nice to me this week. I can’t ignore that—it would be bad karma.
“Um, I could try to talk to him. See if he’ll come out on his own,” she suggested somewhat hesitantly. “I don’t want him to get arrested.”
“Neither do I. We like our VIPs to stay happy. But he has been throwing back doubles since he got here, and they can’t serve him anymore. Maybe he’ll listen to the voice of reason and agree to go home and sleep it off.” Ethan moved the velvet rope so that she could walk in.
“I’m not really dressed for it.” Julia looked down at her sneakers and ripped jeans and Gabriel’s heavenly scented but too large sweater.
“You’re fine. But listen, if he’s too far gone, or if you’re just not up to it, come right back. He can be a handful when he’s drunk.”
Julia knew exactly what Gabriel could be like when he was drunk, but she reminded herself that he had been sweet to her that night so long ago.
She walked into the club, hoping no one would recognize her. She quickly pulled her hair out of its ponytail and draped it around her face, using it as a veil to hide from inquisitive eyes. She prayed desperately to the gods of Manhattan-style martini bars to keep Brad Curtis, MBA, away from her tonight. She didn’t want to run into him looking like this. She pulled her navy-surplus peacoat closed and buttoned all the buttons, because she didn’t want Gabriel to see that she was wearing his sweater—still.
It didn’t take long to find him. He was sitting at the bar, talking to an attractive woman whose back was to Julia. He was staring not at the brunette, whose hand was tangled in his hair and who was pulling him toward her by his tie, but at his empty Scotch glass. He didn’t look happy, but that probably had more to do with his drinking companion than anything else.
From her vantage point several feet away, Julia saw that the Emerson whore who was practically sitting on his lap, her cleavage hovering in front of his mouth, was none other than Christa Peterson. Holy shit. Is he planning on going home with her?
Julia knew without a doubt that this was an instance in which she needed to watch out for Gabriel. If he slept with Christa, not only would he be violating the non-fraternization policy and putting his academic career at risk, he would likely end up embroiled in a nasty personal situation with the hoping-to-be-future-Mrs. Emerson. It was more than possible that Christa was trying to seduce him in order to exact revenge for what had tran
spired in Starbucks earlier that week—actions Gabriel had taken on Julia’s behalf.
In either case, Julia was not going to allow the seduction to proceed. Not for one damn minute.
Hands off the Precious, Gollum.
She turned on her heel and walked back outside, coming up behind Ethan and whispering in his ear. “I need your help. He’s with a girl who he shouldn’t go home with. She’s one of his students, so I need to separate them before you put him in a cab.”
Ethan shrugged. “I’m not sure what I can do about that. That’s his business.”
“What if one of the waiters spilled a drink on her and sent her to the ladies’ room? Then maybe I could talk Gabriel into coming outside.”
“Do you think you can convince him?”
Julia blinked as she took a moment to consider it. “I don’t know. If we separate them, I’ll have a better chance. I doubt he can form a coherent thought with her plastic boobs in his face.”
O gods of all graduate-students-trying-really-hard-to-do-a-good-thing-for-an-old-friend, help me pry that Emerson whore off his dick. Please.
He laughed. “A bit cloak and dagger, don’t you think? But all right, I’m sure the bartender can help us out. He has a sense of humor. If Emerson gives you any trouble, ask the bartender to call me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Ethan made a call on his cell phone, and within two minutes, he was signaling to Julia to go after Gabriel. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked back into the club. Gabriel was laughing. Something had struck him as funny, and he was howling, head thrown back, hands clutching his stomach.
Julia had to admit that he was even more handsome when he was smiling. He was wearing a pale-green dress shirt with the top two buttons open, revealing chest hair that was poking out like a few blades of grass over the snowy white of his T-shirt. Mercifully, he’d gotten out of the fifties and lost the bow tie; the silk tie he was wearing was striped black on black and hanging loosely around his neck. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants that fit him snugly and very shiny black shoes that were far too pointy.
In short, he was drunk, but he was perfect.
“Professor?”
He stopped laughing and turned to Julia, a wide smile spreading across his face. He seemed very happy to see her. Too happy.
“Miss Mitchell! To what do I owe this unexpected delight?” He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, holding it there for several seconds.
Julia couldn’t help but frown. He didn’t seem drunk, but he was being friendly, flirtatious even, so he must be drunk.
(Or he must have received a personality transplant from someone charming like, say, Daniel Craig.)
“Could you help me flag a cab? I need to get home.” Julia withdrew her hand, wincing at the lameness of her excuse.
“Anything for you, Miss Mitchell. And I do mean anything. May I buy you a drink first?” He smiled as he peeled off a few bills and handed them to the bartender.
“Um, no. I have one.” She held out her smoothie and waved it under his nose.
The bartender glared at her garish Styrofoam cup but settled Gabriel’s tab and then went about his business.
“Why are you drinking that? Does it pair well with couscous?” Gabriel chuckled.
Julia bit her lip.
He stopped chuckling immediately and frowned, somewhat roughly tugging at her lip with his thumb until he’d loosened it from her teeth. “Stop that. I don’t want you to bleed.” He pulled his thumb back and brought his face closer to hers—too close, actually. “I made a joke about couscous.”
Julia was still trying to catch her breath after the flash of heat that she experienced having his thumb in between her lips.
“It wasn’t funny, was it? It’s rude to make fun of someone’s poverty. And you are a sweet little girl.”
Julia clenched her teeth, wondering just how much of his condescending attitude she could take before she decided to leave him (and his dick) in Christa’s clutches.
“Professor, I…”
“I was just talking to someone. You know her—she’s a real vixen.” Gabriel’s drunken gaze lazily swept the room before coming to rest again on Julia. “She’s gone now. I’m glad. She’s a nasty bitch.”
Julia nodded. And smiled.
“She looked at you as if you were trash, but I fixed her. She bothers you again, and I drop her as a student. You’ll be fine, now.”
He brought his face close to hers again and licked his red and perfect lips slowly, very slowly. “You shouldn’t be in a place like this. It’s past your bedtime, isn’t it? You should be asleep in your little purple bed, curled up like a kitten. A pretty little kitten with big brown eyes. I’d like to pet you.”
Julia’s eyebrows shot up. Where the hell does he get this stuff?
“Um, I really need to go home. Now. Would you come outside and help me hail a cab? Please, Professor?” Julia gestured vaguely toward the exit, trying to place some distance between the two of them.
He grabbed his trench coat immediately. “I’m sorry. I left you to find your way home unescorted on Thursday. I won’t do that again. Let’s get you home, little kitten.”
He held out his arm in a very proper and old-fashioned way, and she took it, wondering who exactly was leading whom. When they got outside, Ethan was standing next to a cab, holding the rear passenger door open.
“Miss Mitchell,” Gabriel breathed, placing his hand at the small of her back, gently moving her toward the open door of the taxi.
“On second thought, I can walk,” she protested, trying to move out of the way.
But Gabriel was insistent and so was Ethan, probably because he was trying to get both of them out of there before Gabriel decided he didn’t want to leave and decked him. So for the sake of time and to avoid Christa, the Gollum who could reappear at any moment and try to snatch back the Precious, Julia crawled into the cab and slid over to the far side.
Gabriel climbed in after her. She held her nose slightly so she wouldn’t get an inhalant high from all the Scotch he’d imbibed. Ethan handed a few bills to the driver and closed the door behind them, waving at Julia as the cab sped away.
“Manulife Building,” said Gabriel to the cabbie.
Julia was just about to correct The Professor and give the cabbie her address when Gabriel interrupted her. “You didn’t come into The Vestibule for a drink.” He was looking at her clothes, his eyes resting somewhat hungrily on the flesh at her knees, exposed underneath her ripped jeans.
“Bad luck. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Hardly,” he breathed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I would say you have extremely good luck. And now that I’ve seen you, so have I.”
She sighed. It was too late to ask the cabbie to turn around now; they were driving in the opposite direction. She was going to have to see to it that The Professor made it inside safely before she could walk home. She shook her head and took a long sip from her smoothie.
“Were you spying on me?” His eyes shifted to hers suspiciously. “For Rachel?”
“Of course not. I was on my way home from the library when I saw you through the window.”
“You saw me and decided to come and talk to me?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes,” Julia lied.
“Why?”
“I only know two people in Toronto, Professor. You’re one of them.”
“That’s a shame. I suppose Paul is the other one.”
Julia eyed him cautiously but said nothing.
“Angelfucker.”
She frowned. “Why do you keep calling him that?”
“Because that’s what he is, Miss Mitchell. Or rather, what he hopes he will become. Over my dead body. You tell him that—tell him he fucks with the angel at his peril.”
Julia arched an eyebrow at his eccentric and obviously medieval profanity and its attendant explanation. She’d seen him drunk before, of course, a
nd knew that his drunkenness vacillated between moments of absolute clarity and complete lunacy.
How exactly does one fuck with an angel? Angels are immaterial, spiritual creatures. They don’t have genitalia. Gabriel, you are one sick Dante specialist.
They arrived shortly at his apartment building, and the two of them exited the cab. It wasn’t that far for Julia to walk home—only about four city blocks. And she didn’t have any cash to spare for a cab, anyway. So she smiled at Gabriel, bade him a good night, and patted herself on the back for doing Rachel a favor. Then she and her smoothie began the long solitary walk home.
“I’ve lost my keys,” he called after her, patting the pockets of his trousers and leaning precariously against a faux potted palm. “But I’ve found my glasses!” He held the black Prada frames aloft.
Julia closed her eyes and drew breath. She wanted to leave him there. She wanted to pass along the responsibility for his well being to some other Good Samaritan, preferably, a passing homeless person. But when she looked over at Gabriel’s confused face and saw him beginning to tilt to one side as if he was going to fall over and take the poor potted palm with him (a potted palm that had never harmed anyone), she knew that he needed her help. He was Grace’s little boy once, and she couldn’t just abandon him. And she knew deep within her heart that kindness, no matter how small, was never wasted.
He can’t even find his keys, for the love of Dante. She deposited her half-empty smoothie in a garbage can with a sigh.
“Let’s go.” She placed an arm around his waist, flinching slightly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze that was almost too friendly.
They listed into the lobby like a galleon, waving at the concierge, who recognized Gabriel and buzzed them into the building. Once they made it to the elevator, the Scotch seemed to hit Gabriel even harder. He stood with his eyes closed, his head lolling backward, and he groaned from time to time. Julia took the opportunity to search his pockets for his keys, which she found quickly and easily once she wrested his prized Burberry trench coat away from him.
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