“What’s going on?” Braden asked as we approached them.
“You were right. Somebody was watching you. At least it seemed like it,” Mark answered.
“We didn’t get a good look at his face. He had a hat pulled down pretty low and never looked directly at us,” Adam said. “He was a white guy, though, and he seemed like maybe he was in his twenties or thirties, average height, average weight, average.”
“We came up behind him and asked him what he was looking at and he turned part-way around and mumbled something about ‘the band’ but he was looking at where we were sitting,” Mark added. “He started walking off really fast. We tried to stay with him but we lost him in the crowd.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it right now,” Braden said. “I’ll tell the police about it on Monday and I’ll pass along what Felicity said, too, for what it’s worth.” I saw him glance at his watch.
“That reggae band is probably still playing,” Adam spoke up. “I think we should go check it out. Wasn’t there a violinist you wanted to see though, Braden?”
“Yeah, there was. Should we meet up at the theater afterward?”
“Sounds good,” Mark said. Braden took my hand to lead me off in the other direction.
We walked for about five minutes until we reached a small wooden pavilion off to a side. It was strung with lights that were twinkling in the rapidly darkening night. A lone violinist stood at one end playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata while two couples danced to the sweet romantic music. We stood listening until the song ended and then he squeezed my hand and asked me if I would dance the next one with him. We went up the stairs as the other two couples descended. It was getting late and I knew this would likely be the last song.
Braden took me into his arms gently and smiled down at me as the violinist began to play Clair de Lune and we started to dance. Feeling him lead me around the floor to the strains of the beautiful song while lights twinkled around us and the moon shone overhead seemed like a moment that couldn’t possibly be more romantic. I knew that I would remember this dance for the rest of my life. At that moment no anonymous letter writer, conspiracy nut, kinky politician, or naked drunk driver mattered. It was like Braden and that violinist and I were alone in the universe. As the last few notes faded we slowly stopped dancing. I was about to turn to leave when Braden got down on one knee. Oh my God! I would definitely remember this dance for the rest of my life! I held my breath as I looked down into his eyes.
“Gabrielle, will you marry me?” he asked softly.
“Yes, I will,” I answered with tears in my eyes. And with that he slid the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen on to my finger. It was a square-cut center stone on a band embedded with smaller diamonds that sparkled in the moonlight like the city lights that I loved.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AUGUST
IN THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS OF PHILADELPHIA COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA
Commonwealth v. Petrillo
“So Ms. Robbins, you’re saying that Mr. Petrillo is your ex-boyfriend?” Adam asked the buxom redhead on the stand. I was kind of surprised. I thought he would be acting like Mr. Suave with this chick but he actually seemed kind of annoyed with her.
“Yeah, he’s my ex and he’s harassing me.” She shot an angry glance at my client, who flinched and hung his head. I had a feeling that this was a lovers’ spat turned into criminal case, which was probably why Adam seemed so unmotivated to impress Big Red up there.
“What do you mean by that?” Adam asked, sounding like he could care less.
“I mean whenever I see him out he says nasty things to me. He calls me names.”
“What kind of names does he call you?”
“Nasty ones.” She pouted and shot another unfriendly look at my client. I was waiting for her to stick her tongue out at him. What grade was she in?
“What kind of nasty ones?” Adam asked, actually starting to sound irritated.
“He called me a shallow b-i-t-c-h!” She sneered at my client like she thought he was lower than a piece of dirt. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would call her a nasty name. She was a real sweetie pie. Who in the hell was she spelling for, anyway? The stenographer?
“He called you a bitch?” Adam asked just a little too sarcastically, proving that he could, in fact, spell. I actually winced. Ms. Robbins obviously didn’t pick up on the fact that he wasn’t really being sympathetic, though. She was a smart one too!
“Yeah! Can you believe that! And he’s one to criticize anybody! He’s got a beer gut!” I had to admit that I didn’t really see the connection between having a beer gut and being a bitch, or the relevance for that matter, but no way was I going to object and cut this off! I expected Adam to get her quieted down but instead he egged her on!
“And he’s calling you names?” What the f**k was he doing?! Was he nuts? I looked up at Judge Channing, who was starting to give Adam some very angry looks. Then the judge gave me angry looks for not objecting. I just smiled.
“I know! Seriously! You know, he doesn’t have a decent job either. He’s a stock boy at a supermarket! And he doesn’t even have a car! I don’t know why I wasted my time with him!”
“She’s right!” My client yelled out. “I am a loser!” Oh shit! I knew that it was going too well. I started trying to get him to shut up, but of course, he wasn’t going to listen. “I never deserved her and since she left me I’ve been a broken man!”
“Well, Goddamn, Tony!” Ms. Robbins responded. “If you would just spend less money on pizza and beer you could save up to buy some kind of vehicle!”
“I would go without food if it meant you would give me another chance, Vera!”
“Be a man, for crying out loud!” She appeared to be thinking about it, though. The rest of us all just kind of hung out, since it didn’t seem like we were needed for anything.
“I’m begging you, Vera!” My client actually dove out of his chair and kneeled down on the floor. I put my head down on the defense table and banged it a few times. Suddenly, some guy in the crowd yelled out:
“Take him back, Vera! The man’s a mess!”
“Why does he want her back? She really is a b-i-t-c-h!” A female voice from among the spectators chimed in.
“Order! I want order in this courtroom!” Judge Channing yelled, banging his gavel, looking apoplectic. “This is a court of law, not daytime television! Mr. Roth, Ms. Ginsberg, I suggest that you work this case out between you and get it out of my courtroom!”