Time Off for Good Behavior (3 page)

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Authors: Lani Diane Rich

BOOK: Time Off for Good Behavior
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Maybe I should come back later,

the guy said.

I waved my hand dismissively.

If you

re gonna come back, you might as well stay.

He nodded and stepped toward me, a crooked smile snaking up one side of his face as he held out his ha
nd.

Hi, Wanda. My name is Walter Briggs.

I smiled back as I took his hand. He had brown hair and wire-frame glasses, and his handshake was firm, but not like he was trying to prove anything. He was that Jimmy Stewart kind of handsome, the kind you didn

t
notice much until he unleashed that crooked smile on you and then
hoo-wah.


I

m a lawyer,

he said.

Hoo
-whatever. I withdrew my hand and crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes at him.


I knew it.


I

m sorry?


Bible college, my ass,

I muttered.


Excuse me?

I crossed my arms and went on attack.

Couldn

t even wait until the painkillers wore off, could you?

His eyebrows knit slightly, and his head tilted a bit. Nice whack at innocence, but I wasn

t buying it. He looked at me in silence, and I widened my eyes
, speaking slowly so he

d understand.


I

m not signing anything.


Okaaaaaay,

he said.


So you can just run along back to Pencil Face and tell him I

m not falling for that trick.

The crooked smile snaked up a notch in a manner that was not at all attract
ive.
Not one bit.


Pencil Face?


Your boss, the defense lawyer for those HG&E guys.

His eyebrows raised in understanding.

Oh. You mean John Douglass.

I rolled my eyes and flicked my hand at him.

Run along. I

m not signing anything. You

re wasting your
time.

He gave a low chuckle that was also not at all appealing.

Why don

t you let me worry about my time?


I was trying to be polite,

I said through clenched teeth.

I care about
my
time.

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a business
card.

Then I won

t take up much more of it. Like I said, my name is Walter Briggs. Although I am familiar with John Douglass

sorry, Pencil Face

I

m not associated with him.

I looked down at the card. It was plain with black type:

Walter Briggs, Attorne
y-at-Law.

I looked back up at Walter, who was smiling down at me.

Okay. Maybe the smile was a
little
attractive.


So if you

re not associated with Pencil Face, what are you doing here?

His eyes tightened a bit, but his mouth didn

t skip a beat.

I heard
about what happened at the courthouse. Based on my research, you have a decent case against the city. I thought I

d come by and offer to help you, if you decide to pursue legal action.

I ran my eyes over the card again and then up to his face.

You don

t
look like an ambulance chaser.

His amused expression waned a bit.

I

m not.


Then why are you here soliciting for business?


Are you this hard on everyone you meet?


Not everyone,

I said, feeling a smile play on my lips despite my better judgment. You

d have to be blind and deaf to not smile at Jimmy Stewart.

Just the lawyers.

Vera entered, carrying my dinner tray. Judging by the smell, I

d finally made it to the A-list of hospital inmates allowed to eat something other than Jell-O and beef bouillon.
Walter stepped back to give her room.


I

ll let you enjoy your dinner,

he said, his hand reaching for the door. He started to go, then turned his head and shot another grin at me.

I

m glad you

re feeling better, Wanda.

He looked over at Vera and flashe
d her a bigger grin. I was not at all jealous.

Have a nice day.

And then he was gone.

Vera raised her eyebrows at me.

Cute.


I guess,

I said.

So, I

m getting real food now?


You guess?

she said.

Honey, you gotta appreciate a boyfriend looks like t
hat. I wouldn

t kick him outta my bed for eating crackers, I

ll tell you that much.


Boyfriend?

I said.

I just met him.

She gave me a quizzical look.

But he was here every day when you were in the coma. I was wondering where he went. .

Here where? In
the hospital?

She shook her head.

Here
here
, in your room.


Every day?

I said, trying to picture Jimmy Stewart as a psycho stalker. Couldn

t do it.

All day?


No,

she said,

not all day, but he

s been coming by, stopping in your room, checking on yo
u. Sometimes he

d sit for a spell. We all just assumed he was your boyfriend. I was surprised when you said not to call anyone for you; if that man was in my room every day, I

d have him on speed dial.


Well, sorry to be the sugar in your gas tank, but...

I handed her his card. She read it, rolled her eyes, and handed it back.


Lawyers,

she said, shaking her head in severe disappointment.


Preaching to the choir, sister,

I said.

She crossed her arms, stared for a moment at the doorway where he

d just be
en, and shrugged.

Still wouldn

t kick him out of bed.

She turned and gave me a bright smile.

Well, you eat your dinner, honey, and happy birthday!

I put my fork down.

Happy birthday?

She nodded and seemed at a loss for words for a moment. That impres
sion was fleeting.

October twenty-sixth, right? According to your chart?


Yeah,

I said.
Crap.

I

m thirty-two today.

She smiled, about to say something chipper, then apparently thought better of it.

Honey, where

s your family?

I picked up my fork.

N
ew York.

She paused a beat, wisely choosing not to pick at that thread.

Are you sure there

s no one we should call? I know you informed us not to contact your husband again



Ex-husband.

I poked at the chicken on my plate. It resisted.

This thing is d
ead, right?


Wanda?


Are these instant potatoes?

I let a clump fall from my fork with a dull splat.

Five thousand dollars a minute for a hospital bed, and you guys can

t afford real potatoes?


I

m about to go on break,

she said.

I was wondering if y
ou

d... maybe... would you mind if I ate with you?


Don

t pity me, Vera,

I said, not looking at her.

I

m used to being alone. I like it that way.

She crossed her arms and jutted one hip out with attitude.

Well,
I
don

t like eating alone, and I thought
that sitting in here with you might be nice, but you

re quickly changing my mind.

I smiled. Vera had teeth. Good for her.

Could you bring me some real potatoes?

I asked.

She smiled and patted my knee.

I

ll see what I can do for you.

She squeaked on o
ut. My birthday. Goddamn.

I sighed and poked at my chicken, then stopped. The tune. That same damn tune. Again. I listened carefully. It was faint. Sort of classical. I could hear a piano approaching some sort of crescendo. I

d heard it before, I knew I ha
d, but I just couldn

t place it...


Hope this potato is real enough for you,

Vera said as she squeaked back into the room. Damn nurse shoes.


Shhhh!

I said, holding up my hand. She froze. I lowered my hand. It was gone.

She moved forward and placed the f
oil-covered potato on my tray.

You okay, Wanda?


Yeah,

I said, watching her as she grabbed a tray from the empty bed on the other side of the room.

It

s just that song. It

s driving me crazy.

She settled on the bed next to me and situated her food.

W
hat song?

I raised my knife, motioning out the door.

I don

t know. Whatever music the nurses keep playing at the station.

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