Page 118 of Dirty Pool

Finally, his mother asked, “What’s her name?”

“Gabbie. Gabbie Casey.”

He must have been on speakerphone, because in the background, he heard his father ask, “Gabbie Casey, daughter of Charles Casey?”

Michel made a noise under his breath. “So yeah, that’s uh … the stuff I did, Dad.”

“Oh, my God, Michel.”

Yeah, that’s how he felt, too.

TWENTY

The first thing Gabbie thought when Michel parked the car in the driveway of his childhood home? It seemed welcoming.

The second?

Is that his mother?

Standing on the front porch, like they knew exactly what point Michel and Gabbie would drive up, were a man and a woman. The man, dressed in a silk dress shirt, black slacks, and a tie that had been loosened around his throat smiled briefly. Michel’s mother, on the other hand, wore a long dress that draped her body, and maybe it was the appearance the woman exuded, but Gabbie thought the clothing had the privilege of being on Catrina, and not the other way around.

Rings adorned her fingers. It was closing in on supper time, and the woman’s makeup looked like it had been painted on with such skill that it wouldn’t move an inch throughout the rest of the day. Her hair, a few shades of a deeper red than Gabbie’s, had been let loose in soft waves.

Catrina, who was simply standing next to her husband, seemed regal. That was the only appropriate word Gabbie could think of, and yes, it intimidated her. She had never met a woman who displayed the same air of authority that a man did simply by being, but what she knew about Michel’s mother … she wasn’t surprised that Catrina seemed this way, even from afar.

“Oh good, they came out to welcome us.”

Michel’s sarcasm did nothing to help settle her.

So, yeah.

Dante and Catrina.

Gabbie tried to calm her nerves, but it really didn’t work. At all. Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to think on it when Michel was already out of the car, and coming around to her side to help her out. He was the get it over with type, and Gabbie had figured out she was more of a let it die a slow death while she avoided it type.

Yup.

“Smile,” he said, kissing her cheek as he helped her from the car. “They’re going to love you.”

Right.

Before or after they explained everything that went down in Detroit?

Gabbie didn’t bother to ask.

Besides, she had other things to consider now, like the fact they were getting closer to the man and woman waiting on the front steps of the large, three-level home by the second. Michel slipped an arm around Gabbie’s waist like he thought she might bolt, and frankly … he wasn’t entirely wrong. She felt like a deer about to meet a Mack truck, but she didn’t know why.

“Ma, Dad,” Michel greeted as they climbed the steps.

Catrina, his mother, hadn’t looked away from Gabbie once since she stepped out of the car. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but here they were.

“Michel,” Dante replied, “and … Gabbie, yes?”

She smiled. “It is. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Dante looked to his wife, saying, “And us for you.”

Catrina cleared her throat, and for the first time, looked away from Gabbie as she turned toward the front door. With a wave, she said, “We have coffee in the pot, if you two want to come in and … get this started.”