“Are you sure this stuff isn’t a little too heavy? College is supposed to be fun.”

“Dad, it’s so sad! They’re either sick or terrified they’re getting sick.”

Sarah doesn’t always listen to every word I say.

I want to ask how these guys got AIDS, but I’m afraid I’d get more of a description than I want from my daughter.

“Maybe it would be better if you were just doing this in the summer.”

“Luke won’t be here this summer,” Sarah says coldly.

“Dad, I’ll have to call you. I’m late. Bye.”

“Bye,” I say before the phone clicks in my ear.

I put the receiver down hoping she won’t get too caught up in this latest obsession.

I go out to the front to go take a leak, and Julia tells me I have a walk-in. I check my watch and decide I can squeeze somebody in before I have to leave. I try to schedule appointments for everyone, but I’ve learned the hard way that some people would sooner eat broken glass for breakfast than agree to talk to me at my convenience.

“Mr. Longley says he’s got a personal injury case,” Julia whispers respectfully as I nod at the big man in the corner who is already scrambling to his feet.

“He says he has to talk to you immediately.”

At the public defender’s office we had the luxury of telling people they actually had to wait their turn. In private practice I can measure the month’s take by what lengths I’ll go to in order to accommodate a client. Usually, I won’t risk asking a client to let me go to the bathroom first. He might be gone when I got out.

Eager as I am, he walks over to me and extends his hand.

“Glenn Longley,” he says. Is this a client or a life insurance salesman?

“Gideon Page,” I say, sizing him up. If he was injured, he has made a nice recovery. The guy is undeniably handsome and looks in peak condition.