As I turned into the waiting area from the outside hallway, I was surprised to see that Sandy Quinlan was already there.
So was Anthony. He wore a black muscle-T unders
hirt and had another long-sleeved shirt draped over his lap.
What the hell was going on here?
For the few seconds before they realized I was standing there in the room with them, Sandy’s hand was playing underneath the shirt on Anthony’s lap.
She was giving him a hand job in the waiting room!
“Hey.” I interrupted the action. “Hey, hey. That’s enough of that. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, my God.” Sandy jumped up and shielded her eyes with both hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I have to go. I have to go now, Dr. Cross.”
“No. Just stay right there,” I told her. “You too, Anthony. Nobody goes anywhere. We need to talk.”
Anthony’s expression was somewhere between neutral and, for lack of a better word, interrupted. But he wouldn’t actually look at me. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled into his goatee.
“Sandy, would you come on into my office?” I said. “Anthony, I’ll see you when I’m finished with Sandy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he answered. “I get it.”
Once I had her in my office, it took a while for the two of us to recover somewhat.
“Sandy, I don’t even know what to say to you,” I finally said. “You knew I’d come in and catch the two of you, didn’t you?”
“I know. Of course. I’m so sorry, Dr. Cross.” Her voice shook as she squeezed out the words. I almost felt sorry for her, but not quite.
“Why do you think that happened in there?” I continued. “It’s not like you, is it?”
“It is totally unlike me.” Sandy rolled her eyes at herself. “I know how this will sound, Dr. Cross, but he’s . . . cute. I told you I was sexually frustrated. Oh God.” Her eyes welled up. “I am such an idiot. This is my pattern. Acting out for attention. Here we go again.”
I decided to try another tack and got up to top off my coffee from the second cup in my bag. “Let me ask you this. What was in it for you?”
“‘In it’?” Sandy asked.
“I think I know what Anthony was getting out of what was happening.” I sat down again. “What were you getting?”
Sandy lowered her eyes and looked away all at the same time. Maybe the question was too intimate for her. It was kind of interesting that she could give Anthony a hand job in the waiting room but was embarrassed to talk about it now.
“You don’t have to answer the question, but you also don’t have to be embarrassed,” I told her.
“No,” she said, “it’s fine. I’ll talk. It’s just that you’ve given me something to think about. It seems so obvious when you say it, but . . . I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way.” She sat up a little straighter and actually smiled at me. Strange, I thought. Not very much like the Sandy I knew.
My larger concern was about where things would go from here with the two of them. I had the feeling that Sandy and Anthony were all wrong for each other, but that didn’t mean I could stop something from happening.
Eight ten in the morning, and already it was a bad day.
Which got a little worse at nine.
Anthony wasn’t in the waiting room. He’d bolted on me. And I wondered if I’d ever see him again.
Chapter 62
AT A LITTLE PAST NINE, Sandy Quinlan and Anthony Demao met at a coffee shop on Sixth. The rendezvous had been arranged earlier. They had known that Dr. Cross was going to catch them, because they had planned the whole thing.
Anthony had a latte and a sweet roll as he waited for Sandy, who licked at the whipped-cream topping before she spoke. “He didn’t even offer me any of his,” she said, and frowned. “And he had two coffees.”