I considered bugging Samantha for some concealer, but then I remembered she’d worn progressively less and less makeup since we’d met. If she had any, it was at her apartment, and I didn’t have time for a detour.
Whatever.
After buttoning my shirt, I knotted my tie in the mirror.
“Sexy,” Samantha said, standing in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dressed up before. Or clean shaved.”
I flashed a cocky grin at her while cinching the tie up to my collar. “You like?”
“I love,” she smiled as she walked up behind me and slid her hands over my chest. “Do I get to see you with the jacket on?”
“Sure.” After giving her a quick kiss, I walked into the bedroom, pulled the jacket off the hanger, and slipped it on. I buttoned it and smoothed it down. “There.”
“Wow, Christos, I knew you could pull off ruggedly sexy like no one else, but damn, I think you put that guy from 50 Shades of Grey to shame!”
“I think my shiner adds that hint of street danger that the 50 Shades guy was missing.”
“Definitely,” Samantha purred. “Do I have time to shower?”
“What do you mean?”
“Before we go?”
I arched an eyebrow. “We?”
Her face sunk. “Don’t you want me to come with you?” she asked meekly.
I sighed and walked over to her. I grasped her arms and looked her in the eyes. “Agápi mou, it means a lot that you want to come with me. But this is just the pre-trial. Nothing is going to happen today. It’s going to be a lot of boring talk from the lawyers about technical details, and which arguments they’re going to use. Shit like that. Besides, you have classes, right?”
“Yeah, I guess. But I want to be there for you.”
“You’re here for me right now, agápi mou. I promise, you won’t miss anything.”
“Promise?”
I kissed her gently on the lips. “Promise. Now, I gotta run out the door. Don’t wanna be late for court. You still have your key, right?”
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry. Take anything you want.” I kissed her again and went down to the garage and hopped in my Camaro.
SAMANTHA
After Christos left, I showered, dressed, and went downstairs. I opened the refrigerator in the kitchen and stared at the contents. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t think about eating when Christos was going to court. I gently closed the door and nearly jumped out of my skin.
Spiridon was standing right there.
“Oh!” I gasped. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Good morning, koritsáki mou,” he said. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you were still in the house.”
I was always amazed by how much Spiridon looked like an older, silver-haired version of his blue-eyed grandson. Spiridon’s eyes still shone as brightly as Christos’. I had no doubt that Spiridon had been quite the ladies’ man in his day and I suspected he still was, but I had yet to meet any of the women who most certainly were pursuing him. I knew he went out in the evenings all the time, but I wasn’t quite sure where he went or who he saw. Christos had hinted frequently about the women in his grandfather’s life, but so far it was nothing more than juicy insinuations.
“Would you like me to make you some breakfast?” he asked.
“Oh, no thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“You have to eat something, Samoula. You can’t go through an entire day without food.” Spiridon pulled out a loaf of olive bread and spread soft cheese onto a slice. He handed me the plate. “Try this.”
I took a bite. The cheese was salty and very peppery. It had some kick to it. It went great with the olive bread. “What kind of cheese is this?”
“You like?” he grinned.
“It’s delicious!”
“It’s called Kopansti. A friend of mine imports it from Mykonos.”
“Wow, it’s so good!” I chomped another bite and savored it. Somehow, the Manos men always managed to set me at ease, as if everything in the world was just right, and every moment was a decadent celebration of life. I hadn’t had an appetite five minutes ago, but now I was ravenous. “Can I have another slice?”
“Certainly, koritsáki mou,” he said, spreading more cheese on a fresh slice of olive bread. “I take it Christos made it home safely?”
“Yeah. Safe and sound.” For now, I thought. I knew his pre-trial wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but I felt a doomsday clock ticking down to Valentine’s Day on Friday, the day of his actual trial. Lameness. Could I petition to have Valentine’s Day pushed forward a day? Probably not. “Spiridon?”
“Yes, Samoula?” Spiridon smiled.
“Do you, um, ah, I feel like maybe I shouldn’t be asking this, but do you, uh…do you know about Christos’ trial?” I was afraid maybe he didn’t know and I was going to break his heart, but I also felt like I was stuck in the dark on this whole trial topic, and I needed some emergency support.
His smile faded. It didn’t turn sour, like I could imagine my mom or dad doing, after which yelling and condescension would commence. Instead, Spiridon looked sad. “Yes, koritsáki mou, I know.”
Phew. One obstacle out of the way. “Are you worried?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “As many times as Christos has been in court, it never gets easier. There’s little I can do but pray for him and hope that the jury sees the good boy I know my grandson to be.”
“Yeah,” I sighed thoughtfully. “Are you going to go to the trial?”
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you go to the pre-trial today?”
“Because, based on my experience, it’s largely a matter for the lawyers. But I will be at the trial on Friday.”
“Oh.”
I sort of felt left out because Spiridon knew all the details. But it made sense. Christos lived with him, so I’m sure he’d told his grandfather about it awhile ago. But I felt hurt that Christos hadn’t told me. I wanted to be supportive in any way that I could, but that was impossible if he didn’t include me in the process. I sighed to myself and shook my head.
Spiridon patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, Samoula. Christos will be fine.”
I hoped so. But the tortured look in Spiridon’s eyes ignited the smoldering worry that had been twisting my guts in knots for the last twelve hours.
I drove to campus along the Pacific Coast Highway, slumped over the wheel of my VW. Class was the last thing I wanted to think about today. Worse, today was Sociology 2, starring my sleep-inducing Professor Tutan-yawn-yawn, and American History 2, where I always managed to draw cartoons in my sketchbook while conveniently avoiding putting notes in my laptop.
I contemplated bailing on class entirely. One of the perks of being a college student. But what was I going to do if I didn’t go to class? Fret? Wring my hands together?
The beach was visible as I drove out of Del Mar. Too bad it was foggy and gray and I could barely see the ocean. Not much of a beach day, otherwise I might very well have parked my car and strolled down with my towel so I could lay out and catch some rays. Tanning under the buttery San Diego sun always soothed me.
Stupid fog.
The light at Carmel Valley turned red and I came to a stop. This was the intersection where I’d first met Christos last fall. I’d driven through here a hundred times since that day. The view of the beach never got old. I was so lucky to live in San Diego. I swear, it was a crime that people had to live anyplace else in the country. I felt bad for my parents, who were still stuck in the arctic urban wasteland of Washington D.C. It was probably snowing there right now. All I had to contend with was a little fog. The thermometer on my dash said sixty degrees.