Page 81 of High Notes & Hail Marys

He doesn’t look at you. “You know what happened?”

“I know what the official story is. It’s splattered all over the news.”

Sterling shakes his head. “Of course it is. Of-fucking-course.”

Hearing him curse is jarring, but no more so than anything else you’ve processed so far this morning. You shuffle into the kitchen, and grabtwo mugs from the cabinet. You aren’t absolutely sure how to use the high-tech coffee machine by the stove, but you sure as shit are about to figure it out.

“How is Gabi?” you repeat. “Other than awful, obviously.”

He shakes his head again. Too long, like his head’s stuck on a swivel. Traces a vein in the granite surface with his finger. “She’s trying to take the blame.”

You laugh mirthlessly. “How’s she gonna take the blame for him beating her up?”

“She says that she made him mad. They were talking about the wedding. He wants something simple, and she was pressing him for… I don’t know. Some detail that cost money. He accuses her of wanting to blow his fortune, I guess. She says that she knows that, and she shouldn’t have pushed.”

“That’s a load of horseshit.” The two mugs hit the counter with what should have been enough force to break them, but, somehow, they don’t. A perverse part of you is disappointed. “Weddings are a lot of money. Point-blank, period. GoGo’s bitch ass has enough fucking millions to give her what she wants. He probably snorts the same amount up his nose every other weekend. And Gabi has her own money. Fuck him.” You stab thepower button on the machine, recognizable by a universal symbol. “Fuck him so fucking hard.”

You’re angry as hell. Sterling looks blank. It could almost be mistaken for placid, if you didn’t know him better. Disturbingly calm.

“It doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t have to make sense.” He pushes idly at the cuff of the bathrobe where it is falling down his hand. “It’s not actually about money. Not that she has the kind of money he has, but that’s not the point. If they didn’t fight about the wedding, it would be something else.”

Focusing on drawing deep breaths in through your nose, you reach for the coffee beans, which are in an opaque, sealed jar. They need to be ground. What does the grinder even look like? You’re stupidly imagining a little hand-crank, like the one you use for your bud. Back home, you either grab a convenience store coffee on the way to the facility or get one in the cafeteria. Why are you so stupid? Why does this coffee machine need to have more steps involved than a fucking space shuttle launch? Why are you getting so mad?

You don’t realize that you are glaring daggers at the percolator until Sterling’s thousand-yard stare flickers in your direction. “Kai?”

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“She told me that she’s always bruised easily. Her iron level tends to run low, and her doctor has toldher that’s why,” he tells you in that eerily subdued tone. “She said that she turned her back on him, and he just reached for her. That he doesn’t know his own strength.”

“News said that she was hurt on her thighs,” you reply. By process of elimination, you identify the grinder. It’s the size of a blender, covered in buttons and dials, and even has a screen. All to chew up some coffee beans. “She says that he reached for her leg? That’s a new one to me.”

“I told her to come over here,” he says abruptly. Finally meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have asked first. But I told her to come stay with me. With us. Just pack her stuff, and I’d send the plane. It would take a little more than twenty-four hours.

You nod vigorously. “Yes. Absolutely,” you agree. “What did she say?”

“She said she’s going to Cincinnati to be with her family.”

The coffee is ground. The noise seems deafening in the space between you two, but that’s one task out of the way. “Good. That’s really good. As long as she’s gone from Miami.”

“There’s a temporarily restraining order keeping him away from her when he posts bail,” Sterling says. “Not that shitty, abusive people always let that stop them.”

You make an affirmative noise to let him know that you concur. Examining the coffee maker, you realize that it’s not as intimidating as it looks from afar. There are three brew options — iced, regular, and strong — and you set it to “strong,” feeling like the situation demands it. The machine whirs to life, and you lean against the counter. “Has she called her lawyer? What’s he saying?”

“It’s apparently a ‘she.’ And she’s advising Gabi to press charges.” Sterling sets his mouth in a tight line. “She’s refusing. Gabi, is, I mean.”

“What the hell do you mean, she’s refusing?” Your eyebrows shoot up toward your hairline. “Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me you talked some sense into her.”

Sterling drums the counter with his fingers. “There are apparently videos. Of the two of them in bed together. GoGo recorded them without her knowledge or consent, and she only recently became aware of them. She asked him to delete them, and he refused. He claims that he has the cameras so that the housekeepers don’t steal his jewelry, and it’s no big deal. She’s worried that he might leak the footage to get back at her if she presses charges.”

Your goddamned head is going to explode, you’re positive. “Revenge porn is fucking illegal,” you snarl.

“So is hurting people. But here we are.” He tilts his chin at you. “Coffee’s done.”

There’s a fine tremor in your hands as you grab the carafe and pour the coffee, a shake that you can’t manage to overcome. A little bit slops on the counter. It just makes you madder. Sterling gets up and comes around to help you out. Doesn’t say anything, just grabs a dish cloth and wipes up the mess. You retreat to the bar, cowed by your shitty imitation of a barista, and he grabs the sugar bowl and some teaspoons.

“Let’s just say that he leaks the sex tapes,” you reason. “Gabi’s got a hot image. She wouldn’t be the first pop star to go through that kind of scandal. It would suck for a little while, but people would move on. They wouldn’t hold it against her.”

He looks at you with big, solemn eyes. “You don’t get it. That’s her body. Her intimate moments. Her privacy. It doesn’t belong to the public, even if she dances half-naked on stage and sings about getting laid. It’s not the same. It’s something that she shared with someone she thought she loved, and it got stolen from her. That would always be on the internet. Every time someone wanted, they could just look at her naked. Her parents would see it, even if they tried hard not to. Her siblings. It’s a massive violation.”

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