Deviant

Chapter 7

DEVIANT

Callie Hart

Copyright © 2014 Callie Hart

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

SLOANE

 

 

The coffee at Fresco's is particularly bad today, but that's no great surprise. Everything here tastes bad. The bagel I'd tried to force down my throat for breakfast might as well have been made out of sawdust. There are a thousand different, but more importantly palatable coffeehouses in the greater Seattle area, but Fresco's is a tradition for Pip and me.

We've been meeting here ever since we were poor, struggling students and their drip coffee was all we could afford. I see my best friend arrive, looking immaculate as ever. Her hair is swept back into a classic chignon and her pantsuit is perfectly creased in all the right places. I look like a tramp in my cuffed-up jeans and my long-sleeved T-shirt.

Pippa breezes through the café, grinning at Marcus the barista, who will have her regular double espresso on the table precisely sixty seconds after she sits down. She dumps her Louis Vuitton onto the bench beside me and slumps down into a seat.

"Morning, stranger." It's been a week since I've seen her; that's a lifetime for us. She gets comfy, giving me a wink. "What's so urgent it couldn't wait until after I'd finished with my twentieth slightly deranged patient later on today?"

Pippa opted for psychology instead of medicine. We graduated at the same time; she's been certified by the Board of Psychiatric Medicine for the last fourteen months. She works out of an office downtown, dealing with patients who have been sentenced with mandatory therapy in one form or another. A lot of violent offenders walk through her doors. She could easily have chosen to work with Prozac-happy, depressed housewives but she wanted more. Said it felt better to help those who really needed it.

I stare into the bottom of my empty coffee cup, suddenly doubting whether I should tell her anything that happened yesterday. But...but I think I need to. She's my best friend, but she's also always been able to see things from an unbiased point of view. That's exactly what I need right now.

"If I told you I had a patient who had an issue they needed to talk through, you'd already know I was talking about me, right?"

"Yep."