Mary, Mary

Chapter 53

I SPENT THE NEXT Day at the FBI field office, worked from seven until seven, but maybe there was a light at the end of this particular long, dark, and creepy tunnel. Jamilla was coming to L.A., and I'd looked forward to her visit all day.

Jam insisted I not bother picking her up at the airport, and we made plans to meet at Bliss on La Cienega. When I got to the restaurant, she was standing at the bar with an overnight bag at her feet. She had on jeans, a black turtleneck, and black boots with pointy toes and steel tips. I slipped up behind her and kissed her neck. Hard to resist.

“Hey, you,” I said. “You smell good. You look even better.” Which Jamilla definitely did.

She twisted around to face me. “Hi, Alex. You made it.”

“Was there ever a doubt?”

“Well, um, yeah,” she said. “Remember the last time I was in L.A.?” We were both hungry, so we got a table and ordered appetizers immediately - a dozen clams on the shell and an heirloom-tomato salad to share. Jamilla eats like an athlete at a training table, and I kind of like that.

“What's new on the murder case?” she asked after we'd polished off the tomatoes and clams. “Is it true she's been sending e-mails since the fIrst murder?”

I blinked at her in surprise. The L.A. Times had been purposely vague about when the e- mails had begun. “Where'd you hear that? What did you hear?”

“Word gets around, Alex. One of those BJevel security things the public doesn't necessarily know about, but everyone else does. It got up to San Francisco.”

“What else have you heard? B-level stuff,” I said.

“1 hear this lead detective Jeanne Galletta's a hot ticket. Work-wise, I mean.”

“She's no Jamilla Hughes, but yeah, she's pretty good at her job.”

Jamilla shrugged off the compliment. She had my number all right. She looked pretty in the candlelight, to my eyes anyway Now this was a good idea: dinner with Jam at a fine restaurant, my cell phone turned off.

We chose a bottle of Pinot Noir from Oregon, a favorite of hers, and I lifted my glass once it was poured. “Things have been complicated lately, Jam. I appreciate your being there for me. And here for me, too.”

Jamilla took a sip of wine; then she put a hand on my wrist. “Alex, there's something I need to say. It's kind of important. Just listen. Okay?”

I stared across the table into her eyes and didn't know if I liked what I saw My stomach was starting to drop. “Sure,” I said.

“Let me ask you this,” she said, her eyes drifting away from mine. “In your mind, how exclusive are we?”

Ouch. There it was.

“Well, I haven't been with anyone since we've been seeing each other,” I said. “That's just me, though, Jamilla. You meet someone? I guess you have.”

She let out a breath, then nodded. That's the way she was, straight up and truthful. I appreciated it. Mostly “Are you seeing him?” I asked. My body was starting to tense all over. In the beginning of our relationship, I had expected something like this, but not now. Maybe I'd just gotten complacent. Or too trusting. That was a recurring problem I had.

Jamilla winced a little, thinking about her answer. “I guess that I am, Alex.”

“How'd you meet him?” I asked, then stopped myself. “Wait, Jam. You don't have to answer that.”

She seemed to want to though. “Johnny's a lawyer. Prosecution, of course. I met him on one of my cases. Alex, I've only seen him twice. Socially, that is.”

I stopped myself from asking more questions, even though I wanted to. I didn't have a right, did I? If anything, I'd brought this on myself. Why had I done it, though? Why Wasn't I able to commit? Because of what happened to Maria? Or Christine? Or maybe to my own parents, who had broken up in their twenties and never even seen each other again?

Jamilla leaned across the table and spoke softly, keeping this confidential, just between us. “I'm sorry. I can tell I've hurt you, and I didn't want that. We can finish dinner and talk about this if you want. Or you can go. Or I can go. Whatever you want, Alex.”

When I didn't answer right away, she asked, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” I answered a little too fast. “I'm surprised, I guess. Maybe disappointed, too. I'm not quite sure what I am. Just to get it straight - are you telling me you want to see other people, or was it your intention to break things off tonight?”

Jamilla took another sip of her wine. “I wanted to ask you how you felt about it.”

“Right now? Honestly, Jam? I don't think I can continue like we've been. I'm not even sure of my reasons. I've always been pretty much - one person at a time. You know me.”

“We never made any promises to each other,” she said. “I'm just trying to be honest.”

“I know you are. I appreciate it, I really do. Listen, Jamilla, I think I need to go.” I kissed her on the cheek, and then I left. I wanted to be honest, too. WithJamilla and with myself.