Page 3 of Grace of Spades
"Why?" He grinds out.
"My parents weren't the most responsible people." I shrug. Torrez sighs and drives forward. "I'll let your uncle know." We pull up in front of a big wooden door with towering green topiaries on either side. They kind of look like matching butt plugs but I'm a good girl and don't voice that opinion.
This house looks like it's straight out of a magazine. It's immaculate white and almost looks like a plantation. All columns and balconies. Torrez gets out and runs to my door but I'm already out swinging my rucksack over my shoulder. I see his hands fist at his sides. Odd. Why would a cop be frustrated by that? I file that away in my mind and followhim to the door.
He rings a doorbell that echoes through the house. The door opens to reveal a tall balding man in a dapper black suit. I smile awkwardly as Torrez asks for my uncle.
The man, who I assume is a goddamn butler, leads us to a living room. Well, I call it a living room it's probably called something else. He leaves us alone in the most awkward silence ever. Everything echoes here. I hear everything and don't know where any of it is coming from. I hate it. My nerves are already shot let's add in nebulously located potential threats. Why not?
"Nervous?" Torrez asks like a moron. Like, shut up! They can hear everything!
"A bit." It's easier to seem nice at first. Honey instead of vinegar and all that.
"You'll be okay. He's a good lawyer." He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. Interesting choice of words. Not he's a good man or a good person. He's a good lawyer.
I look at the art on the walls. It's a collection of messy-looking splotches of colours and hidden security cameras. I make my eyes slide over them playing dumb. I look at the books on the far wall. Art of War, The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, Nietzsche, Orwell. An interesting collection. Then I see Jules Verne an adventure novel amid war and strategy tomes. I file that away too as I hear footsteps against tile floors approaching. It's a brisk clip almost ominous. Like Darth Vader. I can practically hear the imperial march.
2
Grace
I look to the doorway and see a tall thin man in a navy blue fitted pinstripe suit. My god, he looks like every evil lawyer on TV. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back and his jade-green eyes are calculating. Like he notices everything and will remember it all and use it against you in a court of law.
"Gracelyn?" He asks. I stand up and nod. "I'm Andras. I didn't know Rachel had a child." He admits. Neither did she half the time.
"I didn't know she had a brother." I shrug. He sighs looking a bit sad at that.
"Well, we know about each other now." He nods firmly and turns to Torrez. "Thank you Officer Torrez for bringing her home. I appreciate it." He says offering a handshake. Torrez is very eager to take it and even blushes. What the...? "If you follow Richard, he will show you out." Richard, the butler, appears out of nowhere and corrals Torrez out of the room like a lost little sheep.
"So... come with me, I'll give you the tour." Andras leads and I follow. I map out the place and try to take in all the cameras and exits. I see people milling about the yard looking too many to be out for a walk and too stiff to be doing yard work. I file that away too. If I'm not careful my brain files are going to explode out of my ears.
This entire house is so clean and white and expensive that I feel like a piece of mud messing it up. I am in awe of it all, it's likewalking through a museum. I'm afraid to touch anything
"You look like you're in shock." He chuckles.
"Yeah. Iguess I'm just not used to this." I admit. "It feels like I'm walking around in a magazine." He chuckles again.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"I meant it as one." I rush to assure him. Great job Grace, insult the guy's house! "Do I have an aunt or cousins?" I ask suddenly, the idea slamming into me like a brick.
"No. I'm afraid my work has always been at the forefront. I never really settled down." He confesses. I nod my understanding.
"Officer Torrez said you were a lawyer?" I ask.
"Yes, I am. How much do you know about criminal law?" He asks. Oooh... too much.
"I'm seventeen. Probably not as much as you." I evade. He smirks down at me but I see that calculating look again. Shit. "Okay, let's cut the shit," I say halting our progress down a hall full of more scribble art. I watch his smirk spread into a grin.
"I didn't like my parents. They didn't like me. I've been living on the streets for three years because it was safer than at home." I say a bit shortly. "Now you." His eyes are hard but he nods.
"I'm a criminal lawyer. I defend low lives for a living. Mostly high profile cases." He admits. I nod and he continues. "Rachel was a mess last time I saw her. That wasnearly twenty years ago." I nod.
"I assume I'm going to a new school?" I ask.
"Yes. I have my assistant enrolling you now. He will be back within the hour with your uniform." He grins at the face I must be pulling.
"Uniform?" I ask.
