“Hi! Yes, it’s fine. What’s up?”
“I hate to call you for work things at night, but…”
“No, please, don’t be ridiculous. Are you okay? Is this an emergency?”
“Um, no,” Uma said with a bit of a laugh in her voice, and George relaxed again. “Well, not my emergency, in any case. It’s…um, somewhat delicate.”
“What? Is it Ive? Are you okay?”
“No, it’s fine. It’s… You remember Cookie Lloyd? My neighbor? The woman I stayed with when I first got to town?” A voice rumbled in the background, and Uma responded with something about Steve having enough on his plate already. And a giggle. “Hey! I’m on the phone,” she said, the smile in her voice belying the scolding words. “Anyway, Cookie’s got a rash, and I’m not sure you recall this, but she won’t leave her house.”
“Right. Didn’t I see her out on the stoop last weekend?”
“Yes. Her being out there was a big deal. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d have time at some point to come by and see her.”
“Sure. Of course. I’d love to.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but…” Another mumbled male interruption. “Yes, she’ll pay her, Ive; you know she’s not that tight-fisted. Stop being such a—” He said something else, and again, Uma giggled. George couldn’t believe this woman was giggling. Giggling, after everything that had happened to her.
She smiled. “Is Saturday okay?”
“Yes, great.”
“Do you want to be there, or should I—”
“You need me there. Trust me,” Uma said darkly.
George smiled again. “Okay. See you Saturday then.”
Jessie stuck her head outside after George ended the call. “Coast clear? Figured it might be a work thing. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Yes, thank you. Come on out.”
“Wow. I had no idea a dermatologist had such an active professional life.”
“Oh, you would be surprised. It’s…” She thought of Andrew Blane. “It’s actually even surprising to me how crazy it gets sometimes.”
“Well, I get crazy clients. Some of the people I see, man… I’m not allowed to talk names, but, without citing particulars, there’s this…situation at work right now that I have no idea what to do with.”
“Really? I’m all ears.”
“I think my colleague is sleeping with one of our clients.”
“And by ‘client’ you mean…?”
“Probationer, yes. Offender.”
“Wow. That’s… What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, George. I mean”—Jessie swigged her wine, leaned back, and shook her head—“I get it. I do. There’s a whole series of shit that happens with these people. We’re there to help them, you know? Contrary to what people might think. We’re here to ensure that they don’t go back inside. We want them to succeed, which sometimes drags us right into their lives—their situations. They also, sometimes, look at us like their saviors, which is one hell of a pull on its own, and… Shit. The guy is hot. I’ll give her that.”
Oh. My. God. A shiver of shame ran down her back.
“I have to tell you something.” The words burst out of her, hard, hot, and painful in her mouth, but she just couldn’t hold it in anymore.
Jessie stopped talking, blinked, and waited. A good listener, this one.
“I’ve… Crap, I mean, no… I mean shit! Just shit, shit, shit!”
