Chapter 33
chapter thirty-three
priscilla
As soon as I saw the number, I knew my night, my New Year’s plans, and everything else was going to be screwed. A call while I was on vacation from Sanchez, our child protective services liaison, was never ever good news.
I help up a finger at Juan Pablo who was now looking out of the car window with increasing concern. “Gutierrez.”
His voice was strained, and two octaves lower than usual.
“I’m calling you as a courtesy, because we have worked well together.
” Sanchez was never one to beat around the bush, but he sounded royally pissed.
That was concerning—the guy had been at CPS for over fifteen years; he’d seen it all and was usually not one to get emotional.
“Okay,” I said, and my tone must have been sharper than I was going for because J frowned at me. Sanchez and I didn’t see eye to eye sometimes, but he was a good worker and if he was bringing something to me, surely there was some fuckery going on.
“The stepfather was brought in for questioning. They’re still talking to him, but it looks like they’re going to let him go.”
“What?” I asked, incredulously.
“She hasn’t disclosed and he’s not saying anything. We have nothing. At least that’s what Chase is saying.” His frustration was only ratcheting up my own anger. “They keep tiptoeing around it. But I think you and Bri are onto something. The home situation…something’s not right there.”
I breathed through my nose and reminded myself that getting agitated with J in the car was just going to mean more shit I didn’t want to deal with later.
“He hasn’t confessed because no one thinks he did anything.
That child is being abused, all the signs are there, Joseph.
She had a fucking miscarriage for God’s sake.
She’s twelve.” So much for not screaming.
“I know things are definitely not right, which is why we have her with her aunt for now. But arresting someone without a confession or even a disclosure is not going to stick.”
My head was pounding hard, and again I tried not to vent my frustration on Sanchez, who really was doing me a favor by looping me in.
“They’re not asking him the right questions.
Chase doesn’t work these kinds of cases.
He doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.
They keep treating this like some kind of innocent mix-up.
That man is preying on that child. Who knows for how long it’s been going on? ”
“We will keep our eye on him and on April. Nothing’s going to happen to her. She’s safe.”
I was so fucking tired of all this. “We really need to rethink our definition of safety when it comes to children.” Even as I said it, the frustration from earlier seemed to boil over into something dark and ugly. “I’m going over there.”
As soon as I said it, J shifted in his seat, his eyes like saucers as he looked at the heavy snowfall.
“I wouldn’t do that, Priscilla. You’re not on this case anymore, and I won’t appreciate it if you let the lieutenant know I called you about this.”
That wasn’t a suggestion, but I was feeling reckless and fed up. “Thanks for calling, I appreciate it.”
I ended the call and turned to find Juan Pablo looking at me like I was a ticking time bomb. “Looks like I’m going to have to go in after all.”
“Was that about that case you got taken off of?” I bit the inside of my cheek and stared at him as he waited for the answer he already knew.
“They have the perp there for questioning and I’m going to try to talk to him.” He was not backing down from the stare down, but I wasn’t either.
“But they took you off the case, it’s not safe to drive, and we were in the middle of something important, Priscilla.”
Something about his tone hit me the wrong way and I almost snapped at him. “Juan Pablo, I have to do my job.”
He didn’t answer, but it was obvious he was thinking, What job? You’re off the fucking case.
“Pris, please. I was about to tell you something. Please let them handle this, you’re not even on duty.”
With every word out of his mouth, I got more defensive.
I wanted to tell him that it was fine for him to take the day off if he needed to, but he wasn’t the one with a job where you literally had lives on the line.
That I couldn’t just switch off my responsibilities.
But I didn’t, I didn’t want to be cruel or petty.
And in the end, he was right. This wasn’t even my case anymore.
“Okay, why don’t you tell me whatever you were going to say.”
He looked around the car as if he was suddenly confused with what was happening. “You’re not coming up?”
I sighed, pushing my head to the headrest, tired as fuck and resentful that once again, what had seemed to be a perfect fucking day was now ruined with a single phone call. Because I knew this conversation would only end in a fight.
“J, please. Just tell me.” I kept my eyes closed, but my lids could’ve been a movie screen. I could clearly see his face. Tense, his lips pursed, frustrated with me.
But there was more to his silence, whatever he was going to say worried him. “You know my friend Yariel?”
My eyes snapped open at the question, because he really thought he was slick. “You mean the shortstop you were fucking for like a whole year?”
He cleared his throat and his neck turned red, but his face stayed serious.
“Yes. He’s a friend. He, uh.” His eyes kept looking away, and before he opened his mouth I knew things were about to get worse.
J could keep it together, but when he felt against the wall, when he was desperate, his heart always was faster than his head.
“I told him about your blog and your podcast and he mentioned it to his agent.” He was talking so fast I was having a hard time following, but as soon as the word agent left his mouth, I felt a surge of anger in the pit of my belly.
“His what?”
More fidgeting and eyes everywhere but on me. “He’s writing a memoir, about coming out in the majors, and his boyfriend now, their life together. He has a book deal and an agent. He said she loved your blog and your content and she wants to talk to you about a book deal, Pris.”
“You did what?” I wasn’t even pissed; I was freaked out. This felt like too much. I was okay with options, taking my time with things. But I didn’t want to know this. I didn’t want to have to make this decision right now.
“Pris, I didn’t show anyone anything. I just mentioned to Yariel that my friend—” he really emphasized the word, as if to remind me who he was.
What we were “—is an awesome columnist and that you’re kicking ass on your podcast, and that I thought you could write a really hot book about sex and wellness from a really bomb point of view. ”
“I didn’t need you to push me on this, J.”
He pursed his lips, jaw clenched, and I could see he was working hard on what to say next.
He knew I fought dirty and I was in a mood where anything he said would be enough to set me off.
A twisted, fucked up part of me almost wished he’d sent something to the guy without telling me, or that he’d say something to piss me off, because that way I’d have an excuse to pop off.
To tell him to get out of my car, say something ugly, and end this right here.
“Morena, I’m not pushing you.” That bastard knew I melted whenever he called me that.
“It’s just an opportunity. You don’t need to do anything with it.
You don’t even have to call the agent. It’s your call.
She read your blog, listened to your podcast, and loved it.
I just want you to shine, and do what you love. ”
That should’ve made me happy, glad that Juan Pablo was so into this part of me. That I had his support, but I didn’t. I felt stifled, my heart racing at the idea that there was a chance I could make a go of this. Because if I tried and I failed, I didn’t know what I’d do.
I felt the desperation crawling up my throat. I should’ve told him I was scared. That this felt like too much pressure, but instead I shut down.
I gripped the steering wheel hard, my eyes focused on the snow that was somehow thicker now. “I need to go to work.”
“Work?” He sounded baffled. Like he was sure he’d heard me wrong.
“I need to go to the precinct. I have responsibilities. I don’t have a grandfather with property all over the Bronx, Juan Pablo.” He flinched at that and I just kept going.
“I have myself and my work. If I leave the NYPD now to chase some fucking hobby because I’m unhappy at work, what will happen a year from now when it all goes south? Tell me, what?”
“It’s not going to go south.”
I scoffed at that, now fully invested in blowing up everything we’d managed to salvage in the last month.
“And if it takes longer to get off the ground, I am here. I am your partner, I’m on your team, Priscilla. We all are. So what if you have to lean on me for a little bit?” He tapped his shoulder and I could see that his eyes were watering. “You can lean on me. You can, I promise you.”
I shook my head hard, but I wouldn’t look at him. “I can’t, J, I have to go.”
“You’re running, Priscilla. This won’t work if you keep running.” He sounded so defeated, and let down.
“I need to go.” I was barely able to get that out. We sat there for a few breaths, then J had the last word.
“I will never stop loving you, never. But, Pris, I won’t be with you while you hold me at arm’s length.
You love me, I know you do, but you won’t let anyone see your wounds, mi vida.
I can’t stand watching you suffer and not do anything.
I don’t want to take care of you. I want to love you.
To live with you. To be your man, Pris, and to do that, you have to let me in. ”
After that, he opened the door, the wind howling as he jumped out. “Please be careful, and text me just to let me know you made it home okay. I hope it works out at the precinct.” With that, he stepped out and I heard him get his bag out of the back before heading into his building.
I watched him until he went inside, and after rubbing the tears out of my eyes, I pulled the car out of the parking lot and into the snowy street.
I felt as desolate, as cold and gray as the streets I drove through. Juan Pablo had offered me everything I’d said I wanted. He’d shown me that he could be the man I’d always said I needed. And in the end, I’d been the one to trample on it all.