Page 79 of Deja New
THIRTY-SEVEN
Except not really.
“C’mon, Leah, it’s not like he’s a patient.”
“Client,” she corrected. “We call themclients. Which I know you know, Archer.”
“Well, he isn’t one. So spill.”
“‘Spill’? What, you’re a tabloid journalist now?”
“Those two things don’t actually go together,” Jason pointed out.
“Fair enough, Detective.” To Archer: “No.”
“Spill pleeeeeease?”
“This is not something you can get by using the magic word.”
“Pleeeeeease?”
“You recall we share a bed, yes? And I can do any number of dreadful things to your unconscious body?”
Archer’s eyes went wide. “You probably didn’t mean to make that sound hot, but...”
Angela groaned. “This conversation actually makes me sorry Leah was able to work her magic on CO Maller.”
“Excellent,” Jason replied. “I thought I was the only one having regrets.”
They were back in the large visitation room that always felt claustrophobic. And now that they were all trapped with an aroused Archer, it felt even smaller. Though it was nice to have most of the place to themselves. There was only one other family in there with them, likely because these weren’t standard visiting hours. Visitor etiquette involved pretending that though you could see and hear the other people, they weren’t really there.
Like we’re not really here.
There were a number of reasons a family would be allowed contact visitation (the most desirable, obviously, though there was also video visitation or noncontact visitation). If someone was moving, or dying. A new trial, or the cancellation of same. Or when your cousin’s fiancée figured out a CO’s deep, dark secret.
Angela reached out and tapped Jason’s shoulder to get his attention, which came with the added benefit of touching him. “How do you want to do this? Tell him what happened to his brother’s grave and see if—”
“I would think if we— Sorry to cut you off. You were saying?”
“No, no, you go—I mean, it’s your case. Well, it’s not, actually, but you’re the one with—”
“I think the best way— Sorry.”
“No, no. Please. Go ahead.”
“Jesus Christ.” Archer groaned. “This is by far the worst moment of the entire trip. No contest. It’s not even close. If this wasa race, you two lovingly interrupting each other and then sweetly apologizing for lovingly interrupting each other would be so far ahead in the Worst Part of the Trip race, it would—”
“What did you do?”
Startled, they all looked up. Dennis Drake, who last week had seemed far younger than sixty-three, now looked a hale and hearty ninety. He had a crop of beard stubble; his bright yellow jumpsuit seemed muted and tired.
“Uncle D—”
“Don’t call me that! Stop pretending this is about family!” he roared. COs were running toward him and the other family was shrinking back from the shrieking demon in yellow. Angela felt like shrinking back herself. Even his hair seemed outraged, standing stiffly in a prison buzz cut.
“I can’t see you! I cannot make it any fucking clearer and youstillwon’t listen!”
“Mr. Drake, step off.” Angela realized that Jason had moved in front of her and that Archer had grabbed Leah’s elbow and yanked her behind him.“Now.”
