“Leigh Collier, is that you?”
Ruby Heyer pulled her mask down below her nose, then yanked it quickly back up, like it was safe if you did it fast.
“Ruby. Hi.” Leigh was grateful for the six feet between them. Ruby was a mom-friend, a necessary companion back when their kids were toddlers and it was either set up a play date or blow out your brains on the coffee table. “How’s Keely?”
“She’s fine, but long time, huh?” Ruby’s red-rimmed glasses bumped up on her smiling cheeks. She was a horrible poker player. “Funny seeing Maddy enrolled here. Didn’t you say you wanted your daughter to have an in-town education?”
Leigh felt her mask suck to her mouth as she went from mild annoyance to full-on burn-the-motherfucker-down.
“Hey, ladies. Aren’t the kids doing a terrific job?” Walter was standing in the aisle, hands tucked into his pants pockets. “Ruby, nice to see you.”
Ruby straddled her broomstick as she prepared to fly away. “Always a pleasure, Walter.”
Leigh caught the insinuation that she wasn’t part of the pleasure, but Walter was shooting her his don’t be a bitch look. She shot back her go fuck yourself look.
Their entire marriage in two looks.
Walter said, “ I’m glad we never had that three-way with her.”
Leigh laughed. If only Walter had suggested a three-way. “This would be a great school if it was an orphanage.”
“Is it necessary to poke every bear with a sharp stick?”
She shook her head, looking up at the gold leaf ceiling and professional sound and lighting rigs. “It’s like a Broadway theater in here.”
“It is.”
“Maddy’s old school—”
“Had a cardboard box for a stage and Maglite for a spot and a Mr. Microphone for sound and Maddy thought it was the best thing ever.”
Leigh ran her hand along the blue velvet seatback in front of her. The Hollis Academy logo was stitched in gold thread along the top, probably courtesy of a wealthy parent with too much money and not enough taste. Both she and Walter had been godless, public school-supporting, bleeding heart liberals until the virus hit. Now they were scraping together every last cent they could find to send Maddy to an insufferably snooty private school where every other car was a BMW and every other kid was an entitled cocksucker.
The classes were smaller. The students rotated in pods of ten. Extra staff kept the classrooms sanitized. PPE was mandated. Everyone followed the protocols. There were hardly ever any rolling lockdowns in the suburbs. Most of the parents had the luxury of working from home.
“Sweetheart.” Walter’s patient tone was grating. “Every parent would send their kid here if they could.”
“Every parent shouldn’t have to.”
Her work phone buzzed in her purse. Leigh felt her shoulders tense up. One year ago, she had been an overworked, under-compensated self-employed defense attorney helping sex workers, drug addicts, and petty thieves navigate the legal system. Today, she was a cog in a giant corporate machine representing bankers and small business owners who committed the same crimes as her previous clients, but had the money to get away with it.
Walter said, “They can’t expect you to work on a Sunday night.”
Leigh snorted at his naiveté. She was competing against dozens of twenty-something-year-olds with so much student loan debt that they slept at the office. She dug around in her purse, saying, “I asked Liz not to bother me unless it was life or death.”
“Maybe some rich dude just murdered his wife.”
She gave him the go fuck yourself look before unlocking her phone. “Octavia Bacca just texted me.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, but …” She hadn’t heard from Octavia in weeks. They’d made casual plans to meet for a walk at the Botanical Garden, but Leigh had never heard back, so she’d assumed that Octavia had gotten busy.
Leigh could see the text she’d sent at the end of last month—Are we still on to walk?
Octavia had texted her back just now—So shitty. Don’t hate me.
Below the text, a link popped up to a news story. The photo showed a clean-cut guy in his early thirties who looked like every clean-cut guy in his early thirties.
ACCUSED RAPIST INVOKES RIGHT TO SPEEDY TRIAL.
Walter asked, “But?”
“I guess Octavia is tied up on this case.” Leigh scrolled through the story, pulling out the details. “Stranger assault, not date rape, which isn’t the norm. The client is up on some serious charges. He claims he’s innocent—ha, ha. He’s demanding a jury trial.”