I shook my head. “The opposite.”
I’d prepared a story about why I was in LA for the day—I’d lost a big custody dispute and had to drive my client down to her father’s house in Manhattan Beach—but Jake never asked. He said, “Then let’s get you drunk,” which was exactly the response I’d been hoping for.
I hopped back up onto my barstool and moved my purse off the seat next to mine so Jake could sit down. He flagged down the bartender and ordered a margarita for himself and turned to me.
“And a shot of tequila,” I told the bartender.
“You must really be having a bad day if you’re drinking shots.”
“It’s not for me, it’s for you. So you can catch up.”
Jake smiled. “Challenge accepted.”
Jake didn’t bring up the last time we’d seen each other and neither did I. We kept the conversation superficial—his work, my work, good movies we’d seen. Jake kept half his attention on me and the other half on the baseball game playing on the TV above my head, which was fine with me.
I concentrated on sucking down my virgin margaritas as quickly as I could then ordering “the same” from the bartender. Each time I ordered another drink, Jake did too. Jake wasn’t just competitive with Jonah. He was competitive with everyone about everything, a fact I’d been counting on. When he excused himself to use the men’s room, I took the opportunity to order two more shots, both of which I dumped into his glass before he returned. I figured by that point he was drunk enough not to notice. I was right.
When Jake started yelling at the television because he disagreed with the umpire’s call, the bartender told him he’d have to cut him off.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jake shouted.
I knew that was our cue to leave. I placed my hand on Jake’s arm, forcing his attention to me. “Let’s go back to your place. It’ll be quieter and you can drink whatever you want.”
Jake glanced from me to the bartender, a soft-spoken older gentleman who was definitely not looking for a fight. “Sure,” he said, “Let’s get out of here.”
I paid our tab and left the bartender a generous tip. “For your discretion,” I said.
The bartender nodded at Jake. “Do you need help?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.”
When the valet pulled up in Jonah’s Audi—I still thought of it as Jonah’s even after all this time—Jake tried to get in behind the wheel. The valet helped me steer Jake around to the passenger side and buckle him into the seat.
“How come you can drive?” Jake asked as I pulled out onto the street.
“I paced myself.” He was drunk enough to accept my explanation.
Jake’s apartment looked exactly as I remembered it—leather furniture, giant flat-screen television, and paper everywhere. Jake obviously still preferred to read in print form. Old newspapers and magazines were piled up on every available surface, along with stacks of manila folders.
“You want a drink?” Jake asked.
I didn’t think he’d let me make the cocktails, so I said, “Just water for me.”
“C’mon, have a beer with me.”
“I don’t want to mix.”
“Liquor then beer, never fear!”
I laughed. It had been years since anyone had used that line on me. “Okay, but just one. I still need to drive back to Santa Veneta tonight.” I was supervising Maria’s visit with MJ and Sofia the next morning. I didn’t need to pick up the kids until eleven, so I could’ve spent the night at Jake’s and driven home early the next morning if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to get the answers to my questions as quickly as possible then leave.
Jake handed me a beer, and I followed him into the living room. He was still upright but swaying.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said, collapsing onto the couch. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m not company,” I said. “I’m family.”
“Are we still family?”
Technically, no, but I said, “I think so. Don’t you?”
He nodded, and I knew his thoughts had turned to Jonah because his smile disappeared. “Drink,” he said and clinked his beer bottle against mine.
I took a small sip and set my beer down on the coffee table. Jake drained a few inches from his beer and held onto the bottle. “Do you still miss him?” he asked.
“There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss both of them. I don’t think that ever goes away.”
Jake nodded. “Same.”
I knew this was my opening. Jake had avoided talking about Jonah all evening. Every time I’d tried to bring him up, Jake would change the subject or focus his attention on the baseball game. “Do you ever wish there had been a trial?” I asked.
Jake turned to me. “For who?”
“The guy who shot them. We don’t know anything about him. The police never investigated.”
“What is there to investigate? The guy was crazy, probably hopped up on something. I’m glad the cops shot him.”
I knew I didn’t have long. Jake’s eyelids were drooping. “But don’t you think they should’ve arrested him? I mean, that’s how the system’s supposed to work. The police aren’t supposed to just execute people.”
