her.
"The charges were rape and assault." She almost shouted the words.
"Did you own any property?" Oh, shit.
"For God's sake, we went through all that this afternoon, and you were going to call my bank about my business and our mortgage. I was here with our attorney, filled out papers, and ..."
"Okay. What's your name?"
"Clarke. With an 'E.' "
"Yeah. Here it is." She pulled out the form with two greasy fingers. "Can't bail him now, though."
"Why not?" Jessie's stomach turned over again.
"Too late to call the bank."
"Shit. Now what?"
"Come back in the morning." Sure, while Ian sat in jail for another night. Wonderful. Tears of frustration choked her throat, but there was nothing she could do except go home and come back in the morning.
"You want to talk to the boss?"
Jessie's face lit up.
"Now?"
"Yeah. He's here. In the back."
"Fabulous. Tell him I'm here." Oh God, please ... please let him be human ... please ...
The man emerged from the back room picking his teeth with a dirty finger that boasted a small gold ring with a large pink diamond. He had a beer can in his other hand. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and had a lot of curly black hair on his arms and at the neck of the shirt; his hair was almost an Afro. And he wasn't much older than Jessie. He grinned when he saw her, gave a last stab at his teeth, then removed his hand from his mouth and extended it for her to shake. She shook it, but with difficulty.
"How do you do. I'm Jessica Clarke."
"Barry York. What can I do you for?"
"I'm trying to bail my husband."
"From what? What are the charges? Hey ... wait a minute. Let's go in my office. You want a beer?" Actually, she did. But not with him. She was hot and tired and thirsty and fed up and scared, but she didn't want to drink anything with Barry York, not even water.
"No thanks."
"Coffee?"
"No, really. I'm fine, but thanks." He was trying to be decent. One had to give him credit for that. He led her into a small, dingy office with pictures of nude women on the walls, sat down in a swivel chair, put a green eyeshade on his head, switched on a stereo, and grinned at her.
"We don't see many people like you, Mrs. Clarke."
"I ... no ... thank you."
"So what's with the old man? What's the beef? Drunk driving?"
"No, rape." Barry whistled lengthily while Jessie stared at his stomach. At least he was honest about what he thought. "That's a bitch. What's the bail?"
"Fifteen thousand."
"Bad news."
"Well, that's why I'm here." Good news for you, Barry, baby; maybe you can even buy yourself a gold toothpick after this, with a diamond tip. "I spoke to the young lady out there earlier today, and she was to call my bank, and ..."
"And?" His face hardened slightly.
"She forgot."
Barry shook his head. "She didn't forget We don't do bonds that high."
"You don't?"
He shook his head again. "Not usually." Jessica thought she was going to cry. "I guess she just didn't want to tell you."
"So I lost a day, and my husband is still in jail, and my bank is expecting to hear from you, and ... now what, Mr. York? What the hell do I do now?"
"How about some dinner?" He turned the stereo down and patted her hand. His breath smelled like pastrami and garlic. He stank.
Jessica simply looked at him and stood up. "You know, my attorney must be all wrong about this place, Mr. York. And I have every intention of telling him just that."
"Who's your attorney?"
"Martin Schwartz. He was here with me this morning."
"Look, Mrs.... what's your name again?"
"Clarke."
"Mrs. Clarke. Why don't you sit down and we'll talk a little business."
"Now or after dinner? Or after we listen to a few more records?"
He smiled. "You like the records? I thought that was a nice touch."
He turned the stereo up again and Jessie didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. It was obvious that she'd never get Ian out of jail. Not at this rate. "You want to have dinner?"
"Yes, Mr. York. With my husband. What are the chances of your
"The charges were rape and assault." She almost shouted the words.
"Did you own any property?" Oh, shit.
"For God's sake, we went through all that this afternoon, and you were going to call my bank about my business and our mortgage. I was here with our attorney, filled out papers, and ..."
"Okay. What's your name?"
"Clarke. With an 'E.' "
"Yeah. Here it is." She pulled out the form with two greasy fingers. "Can't bail him now, though."
"Why not?" Jessie's stomach turned over again.
"Too late to call the bank."
"Shit. Now what?"
"Come back in the morning." Sure, while Ian sat in jail for another night. Wonderful. Tears of frustration choked her throat, but there was nothing she could do except go home and come back in the morning.
"You want to talk to the boss?"
Jessie's face lit up.
"Now?"
"Yeah. He's here. In the back."
"Fabulous. Tell him I'm here." Oh God, please ... please let him be human ... please ...
The man emerged from the back room picking his teeth with a dirty finger that boasted a small gold ring with a large pink diamond. He had a beer can in his other hand. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and had a lot of curly black hair on his arms and at the neck of the shirt; his hair was almost an Afro. And he wasn't much older than Jessie. He grinned when he saw her, gave a last stab at his teeth, then removed his hand from his mouth and extended it for her to shake. She shook it, but with difficulty.
"How do you do. I'm Jessica Clarke."
"Barry York. What can I do you for?"
"I'm trying to bail my husband."
"From what? What are the charges? Hey ... wait a minute. Let's go in my office. You want a beer?" Actually, she did. But not with him. She was hot and tired and thirsty and fed up and scared, but she didn't want to drink anything with Barry York, not even water.
"No thanks."
"Coffee?"
"No, really. I'm fine, but thanks." He was trying to be decent. One had to give him credit for that. He led her into a small, dingy office with pictures of nude women on the walls, sat down in a swivel chair, put a green eyeshade on his head, switched on a stereo, and grinned at her.
"We don't see many people like you, Mrs. Clarke."
"I ... no ... thank you."
"So what's with the old man? What's the beef? Drunk driving?"
"No, rape." Barry whistled lengthily while Jessie stared at his stomach. At least he was honest about what he thought. "That's a bitch. What's the bail?"
"Fifteen thousand."
"Bad news."
"Well, that's why I'm here." Good news for you, Barry, baby; maybe you can even buy yourself a gold toothpick after this, with a diamond tip. "I spoke to the young lady out there earlier today, and she was to call my bank, and ..."
"And?" His face hardened slightly.
"She forgot."
Barry shook his head. "She didn't forget We don't do bonds that high."
"You don't?"
He shook his head again. "Not usually." Jessica thought she was going to cry. "I guess she just didn't want to tell you."
"So I lost a day, and my husband is still in jail, and my bank is expecting to hear from you, and ... now what, Mr. York? What the hell do I do now?"
"How about some dinner?" He turned the stereo down and patted her hand. His breath smelled like pastrami and garlic. He stank.
Jessica simply looked at him and stood up. "You know, my attorney must be all wrong about this place, Mr. York. And I have every intention of telling him just that."
"Who's your attorney?"
"Martin Schwartz. He was here with me this morning."
"Look, Mrs.... what's your name again?"
"Clarke."
"Mrs. Clarke. Why don't you sit down and we'll talk a little business."
"Now or after dinner? Or after we listen to a few more records?"
He smiled. "You like the records? I thought that was a nice touch."
He turned the stereo up again and Jessie didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. It was obvious that she'd never get Ian out of jail. Not at this rate. "You want to have dinner?"
"Yes, Mr. York. With my husband. What are the chances of your
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