“Sliding fee scale,” he says, chuckling. “Sliding fee scale my ass.”
“It still doesn’t feel right. She knew my name from somewhere.” I navigate out of the tight aisles.
“Zarah was a prisoner, I mean, apatient, at Quiet Meadows, and you’re hung up on that. I get it, but the way you feel about her, you’re too close to it. Her psychiatrist was charged, and he’s in prison. What they did to her was unethical, illegal, and downright cruel, but not everything is going to lead back to that sanatorium just because Zarah stayed there. Now, I might have some questions if Jerricka Solis is Zarah’s therapist?” He looks at me.
“I don’t know who she sees.”
“It might be worth asking her. The way Dr. Solis blamed Zane for Quiet Meadows closing didn’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies.”
“No,” I murmur.
“You’re in love with her, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Bound to happen sometime.”
“You make it sound so bleak.”
“Things will get worse before they get better.”
“Things aren’t bad now.” I think about her soft body molded to mine, the noises she made as she came. How she cried because someone finally showed her how sex could mean pleasure, love, and trust. Not violence, hate, and revenge.
“What’s your plan?”
“Date her, stand by her while she goes through her recovery. Hope like hell after she has her mind back she still wants me.” I pause. “She and Max never slept together.”
“That’s some weight off.”
“Yeah.”
“Speaking of Max, your mother called, and next month theKing’s Crossing Chronicleis holding a dinner in his honor. Giving him a posthumous award. They’d like you to accept it on his behalf. She’s been trying to get a hold of you—again.”
Scowling, I pull into the office parking lot. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because he loved you. Was proud of you. Wanted to be more like you. Why do you think he went sniffing around the Blacks?”
“To win a Pulitzer?”
“Because he wanted you in his life.”
“If that’s the case, he could have called and asked me to go out for a drink.”
Pop scowls. “Gonna be like that?”
I’m off my game. I’m usuallynotlike that. I just don’t want to admit what Pop said is true. Things will get worse before they get better. Zane could prove to be a huge pain in my ass, or Zarah’s recovery and drug withdrawal, which seem to be going smoothly so far, could hit a bump. Those two things are pretty much a given and wouldn’t surprise me. Other circumstances, though.
Yeah, I signed up for a load of shit falling in love with Zarah, but I’d do it all over again.
“Fine. I’ll go if you go, too. I’ll bring Zarah, and we’ll honor Max and make a night out of it.”
“Now you’re sounding like the son I raised.”
I don’t answer, just jerk my shoulder and unlock our office. Baby looks up hopefully wanting breakfast that isn’t dog chow. We should have hit a drive-through and grabbed a bag of breakfast biscuits. Those sound damned good, and I’m about totell Pop I’m heading back out but he flips on the TV that sits in the corner of the room. A local news channel has interrupted a morning talk show program.
“Thirty-one year old Savannah Mesa was found dead of apparent suicide this morning in her home. Her father, financier Cyrus Mesa and mother, socialite and former model, Audrey Mesa, were not available for comment. No further information is available, and the family asks for privacy at this time.”
The gritty footage plays, and two of King’s Crossing police cars are parked in front of a mini mansion that looks eerily like the Grayson’s. A lucky cameraman filmed an EMT pushing a gurney down a walkway covered in snow. Long, strawberry blonde hair escapes the sheet and blows in the wind. A suicide prevention hotline number flashes across the bottom of the screen.