He pretended to conjure an image. “Older guy in baggy pants. Food stain on his tweed vest. Bald and paunchy. Maybe with a fuzzy beard and wild eyebrows.”
“And smelling of pipe tobacco?”
“For sure.”
She swallowed a small laugh. “The stereotype.”
“Yeah, but stereotypes become stereotypes for a reason. So you can imagine why I was taken aback when you walked through the door. You’re far off the mark of stereotypical, Dr. Reede. You should post a warning sign on Ellie’s desk.”
He had hoped to nettle her. She remained unruffled. She even tried to conceal a smile. “In essence, I do give fair warning. The last thing I want is to take a potential patient unaware. So, whenever I get an inquiry about my practice, I set up a preliminary virtual meeting. Following it, if he or she doesn’t wish to proceed with me for whatever reason, I wish them well and, more often than not, recommend a colleague that I think would be a better fit.”
“What happened to my preliminary virtual meeting?”
“I had it with Lieutenant Bowie.”
“Huh.” Again.
“He explained the circumstances and made—”
“Circumstances?” he said. “Those should have been interesting.”
She ignored his interruption. “He made clear that I wasn’t the only therapist he was interviewing. My understanding was that he was going to provide you with a list of qualified candidates and leave the decision up to you.”
“He did. But he could’ve given me a heads-up. Put an asterisk by your name or something.”
“To indicate what? My gender?”
“No, that doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then what?”
That you’re such a gorgeous representative of your gender, that’s what. Swearing softly, he lowered his head to rub the back of his neck while staring down at the patterned rug.
Not at her legs. At the rug. Therug.
She was waiting for him to say something. After a sigh, he said, “Look, Dr. Reede, my reluctance has nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t want to be here if you were the stereotypical fusty guy with the pipe and wild eyebrows.”
She tilted her head and observed him with new interest and a slight frown. He would have given a million bucks to know what she was thinking. She said, “Then it’s psychotherapy in general that you take exception to?”
He didn’t respond, but she must’ve read his disgruntlement. “You aren’t trapped in here, Mitch. If you choose to leave now, you can use the exit door. There’ll be no hard feelings, and I won’t charge for the session.”
He looked over at the exit, then chuffed. “And have Bowie on my ass for not seeing this through? Un-huh. No way. But not telling me that Dr. Dylan Reede happens to be…” He stopped himself from saying “hot,” and said instead, “… younger than expected is the kind of practical joke he and I used to pull on each other.”
“I’d like to hear about some of those practical jokes.” She picked up a notebook that was lying on the sofa beside her, set it on her crossed knees, and uncapped a pen. She motioned again toward the sofa across from hers. “Please sit.”
He looked back at the sofa, looked again at her, then shrugged. “Sure. Okay.” He removed his sport coat and tossed it over the arm of the sofa, pushed three of the blasted throw pillows out of the way, then shoved his hands into his pants pockets and dropped down onto the seat. He worked his butt deeper into the cushion, stretched out his legs as far as they would go, and crossed his ankles, settling into a slouch.
“I can’t go back to work until I’ve undergone this session, so I’ll stay for the full fifty minutes. No telling how many bad actors are getting away with heinous crimes while I’m in here, but my former friend, now boss, John Bowie thinks my time is better spent talking to you.”
He took another look around the room. “And to be honest,this beats trying to chase down bad guys. You’ve got a real cushy spot here for relaxing, and it’s not my money the PD is wasting.”
“You think this is a waste of time and money?”
“What gave me away?”
She tapped the end of the pen against the notepad. “If a patient doesn’t seek help through therapy, it rarely yields the desired result.”
“Then we’re SOL already. That stands for shit out of luck.”
