She had not heard one word from Jake since the jail scene, and she ran to the door hoping he was downstairs in her condo's lobby. She pressed the button and sang out drolly, "If you're here to apologize, I accept." "Let me think what I've done to make women unhappy recently," a smooth, cultured drawl answered. "Hmmm. All right. I apologize for that, and the other, and oh, all right, for that incident involving the crème brulee and the martini shaker. Also, I swear to you, I had no idea the tattoo wouldn't be flattering. And, let's see ... about the dancer. I should never have believed there's a respectable ballet company named the Exotica Review ... in the meantime, let me introduce myself. I'm Rylan, Jake's cousin." Vivian stared at the intercom. "Is he all right? He's not hurt, or still in jail..." "No, no. Sorry, didn't mean to worry you. Jake's healthy and out of the slammer. I flew in for the day, just to check on him. He's obviously miserable about what happened. I'd like to talk to you on his behalf." Vivian dully invited Rylan upstairs.
