Piano in the Dark. Eric Pete

      “Thank you, sir,” he said with a nod and smile as he paused from his joy. I turned without speaking, returning to Dawn’s car before someone thought about jacking it.

      “How’s your momma?” Joell Hidalgo, my father, asked after a single hastily ended note.

      “Same as always,” I replied loud enough for him to hear before I drove off.

      Back to my world and away from his.

      8

      “Counselor, you know the court’s rules about cell phones. I suggest you silence it while I’m in a good mood,” Judge Akers offered from the bench. Her eyes beneath her excessive plume of red hair were exaggerated by her large, thick-rimmed eyeglasses.

      “Your Honor, it’s not mine,” Jim Warner, one of the firm’s distinguished senior partners, said as he looked inside the coat pocket of his suit. I was oblivious to the matter, trying to organize the documents I’d delivered for the large class-action case Jim was trying today. Until I realized they were both looking at me.

      It was my phone. I’d forgotten to turn off upon entering the courtroom. Credit my returning to work a day earlier than what was prescribed by my doctor for the slip-up. My mind was still not fully back in gear, but I was needed.

      “Sorry,” I mouthed silently as I hastily ended the ringing. As it powered down, I had a moment to glance at the number of the incoming call. Not familiar. Probably a wrong number getting me in all kinds of trouble.

      “Do you need to take that?” Jim asked as I went back to my arrangement of his presentation items and exhibits.

      “No,” I answered discreetly. “Probably a wrong number. I’ll check on it later.”

      Later came during a recess to allow a key witness for our case time to arrive from the airport. It was an unseasonably warm and humid day, but I welcomed the chance to defrost outside along with the casts of potential jurors grateful for an escape from the frigid confines of the Harris County Civil Courthouse. Confidently clear of Judge Akers’s edict, I retrieved my phone and turned it on as I leaned against the brick retaining wall.

      “Hey, baby. Have a brief break, so figured I’d call,” I said

      “How are you feeling?” Dawn asked. Our agreement was that she let me go in to work and I would call at my first available moment.

      “Good. Real good. I’m pacing myself just like I promised. Despite enjoying your company, I was going stir-crazy.”

      “Yeah. You were driving me a little crazy too with all your pacing. Couldn’t even enjoy The View without you wanting to change it to CNN,” she joked.

      “Well, enjoy your TV, babe. It’s all yours once again. I’m about to go back inside the courthouse.”

      “Okay. No working late, though.”

      “I promise.”

      As I prepared to shut my phone off once again, it buzzed with the delivery of a text message.

      The message was a number I didn’t recognize. Probably same as my earlier missed call.

      How r u feeling? It read.

      Better. Thx. Who is this?

      I rapidly replied as I looked at my watch.

      Are you alone?

      Kinda.

      I texted back, wondering who could be toying with me like this.

      Jacobi, stop playing. U know I’m in court.

      I sent upon further thought.

      Wrong guess. Now my feelings r hurt.

      Oops. Sorry. L I gotta go. Who is this?

      Gotta w8 now since u guessed wrong. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Over lunch?

      Just getting back to work. Already have plans 4 tomorrow. Going to be busy.

      Whoever was messing with me was slow on the response. Almost thought one wasn’t coming. I went to turn off my phone again, tired of the games. Then it buzzed.

      U might have plans 4 tomorrow. But who knows tomorrow’s plans for u? N’est-ce pas?

      I smiled, having no clue what it meant. But I liked it.

      But tomorrow could wait because today was calling my ass back inside the courthouse.

      9

      I sat in our conference room, the impressive view of downtown Houston behind me, as I assisted Jacobi’s depo prep—deposition preparation—of one of our clients. I sat at one end of the large mahogany table, looking at the police report in my hands as Jacobi, opposite me, asked the questions. The well-kept Latina cougar named Iris wasn’t very believable in her version of facts yet. It was our job to change that. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when Jacobi placed his hand atop hers to calm her down, feigning ignorance to the dazzling wedding ring she wore. Oh-so-empathetic; I’d seen this move before by him.

      I received a text just as I was about to interject. Same number as yesterday that I didn’t recognize.

      Tomorrow’s today. U still swamped with work?

      Yes. As usual.

      I replied to my anonymous jokester. Jacobi was right here, so it couldn’t be him. Now my mind began racing with this distraction, wondering if perhaps it was a wrong number.

      Even if I treat u to lunch?

      Where?

      I asked, knowing I was too busy, but allowing the amusing game to continue.

      The Breakfast Klub.

      U had me at hello. But I’m still in the middle of something.

      Don’t make me beg.

      Who is this?

      “Chase, do you have anything to add?” Jacobi asked, getting my attention. His hand still rested on our client’s and she didn’t seem to mind. The blank stare of my face probably had them both puzzled.

      “No. I think you pretty much summed it up,” I lied, looking up from my phone. Another buzz alerted me, compelling me to gaze downward once more.

      I was rewarded for my devotion with a photo of a smiling Ava. Wow. I’d hoped it was her. The text that accompanied it read:

      Take a break. I’ll hold a seat 4 u…if u hurry.

      I had many a question, like how did she get my cell phone number. But right now, I only had a desire to be there face-to-face.

      I abruptly stood up, interrupting Jacobi as he stressed the importance of listening to his instructions during trial and not letting the defense get under Iris’s skin. Right now, he’d rather be under her skin himself. I caught his attention, motioning randomly toward my head as if I were still addled from the car wreck and needed some air. He nodded for me to get out of there. As I left down the hall, I wondered if they’d be there when I returned or perhaps in some nearby hotel room pursuing a serious debriefing of one another.

      As I cast silent aspersions, I reminded myself that I was no better hustling to rendezvous with some random female…for lunch.

      On my way.

      I texted, calculating how fast I could safely get there without risking another crash.

      At least Jacobi was single.

      I had no reason to heed the siren call in my head.

      Yet I followed.

      With no regard for the rocks ahead threatening to crash and submerge all I held dear.

      10

      Having a tiny rental car had its benefits. I swooped into a just-emptied parking spot on Travis and promptly