30 Cubed Challenge #2
Title: Borderline 1
Genre: Suspense.... it'll get more suspenseful, honest. I hope.
Word Ct: 646
A/N: Obviously not a complete story. More to come, though I hope to meet this challenge by introducing a new character with each entry.
"Write what you know! Write what you know!" they said.
All right all ready. Here's something I know. ;o)
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The thick file landed on Elizabeth’s desk barely five minutes before the client was scheduled to arrive. As Sheryl, the office girl, hurried out with a muttered apology, Elizabeth glanced down at her watch and then out through the Venetian blinds to the gathering dark in the streets below. A mist was already rising in the cool October air, haloing the street lights into fuzzy glowing balls.
“Damned evening appointments,” she muttered and opened the file. Elizabeth wished the agency hadn’t decided to stay open for evening hours, but she knew it was probably a good thing to do for clients who worked during the day. Granted, there weren’t that many clients at the low-cost, county-funded clinic who had jobs, but those who did were struggling to make ends meet. If they were willing to come in after dark, and after working all day, she knew she shouldn’t complain. It showed commitment to their recovery, and that was always a positive sign.
Elizabeth opened the file. “Grierson LeMarque. Hm.” She had seen the last name on her calendar of course, but hadn’t given in much thought. It struck her as an odd name and not one she recognized. In the small-town, semi-rural community of Pine Crossing, everyone might not literally know everyone else, but family and business names were readily recognizable as local. Or not.
“So, all right, Mr. LeMarque, what is your story?” Elizabeth asked the file as she thumbed through the pages. “Divorced, no kids, thirty-five years old, no prior treatment episodes, unemployed…unemployed? Wonder why he got an evening appointment. Have to talk to Sheryl about that. ” Elizabeth turned the pages. “Arrest record…possession of controlled substance, one recent DUI…” Now she was in familiar territory. Elizabeth was gratified to see there was included a full psych eval with the diagnoses of borderline personality disorder and opiate dependency. The psych eval had come from out of county, and it struck her as a little unusual. More women were diagnosed with borderline personality disorder than men. Well, she would decide for herself soon enough if he fit the diagnostic criteria.
There was a soft knock at the office door.
“Yeah?” said Elizabeth, assuming it was Sheila coming to announce her client’s arrival, although she usually used the intercom.
The door opened. “I’m here for my appointment,” said a low male voice.
Elizabeth spun around in her chair. A man of medium height and slender build stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a dark long sleeve Henley and dark trousers. His hair, though badly in need of a trim, was clean and fell into his face in thick black curls.
“Ah… Mr. LeMarque?” Elizabeth stammered.
The man nodded once. Elizabeth thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk up for an instant but then it was gone. It was hard to make out his features the way the shadows fell across his face. The overhead fluorescent lights seemed to have dimmed some as night had fallen outside.
“Did the girl in the front office sign you in?” asked Elizabeth.
LeMarque shook his head.
“Hm. Well, don't worry about it. Please, come in.” She gestured to the cushioned seat opposite hers.
Grierson LeMarque crossed the room and to her surprise, lifted his hand for Elizabeth to shake. It was cool and dry. From the way he surveyed her face Elizabeth knew he was taking her measure as much as she was taking his, though she knew she was doing it in a way that most people would not detect, with a professional smile and a nod as she introduced herself.
She was used to that kind of guarded response. Court ordered clients were more often than not cautious and mistrustful, if not outright hostile.
Other than that, though, between his clothing and demeanor Grierson LeMarque looked nothing at all like the addiction and poverty-ravaged clients she was accustomed to seeing.
He didn’t look like anyone she was accustomed to seeing in Pine Crossing, period.
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