this girl was still out there, if what Cleo was saying were true.
“Come on, where’s your imagination?” Cleo demanded. “Golden Boy kills himself out of the blue. Something drove him to it. And maybe our mystery lady knows. Or maybe she’s the reason he did it. Think about it. Hutch knocked somebody up. That’s gotta weigh pretty heavy on the conscious don’t you think? A good guy like Hutch?” She raised an eyebrow at Devon.
“Why’d you call him a Golden Boy?” Devon wondered out loud, forgetting the peer counseling setting. The question had nothing to do with her shoplifting, or helping Cleo become a better person.
“Hey, I’m just the messenger. Hutch was born like that. Lap of luxury. Never had to work at anything, except making sure his smile was as perfect as it could be. Our parents belong to the same golf club in San Fran. All of this drama kind of just goes with the territory.”
“What do you mean: the territory? Was there a suicide before in Hutch’s family?”
“No. Nothing as scandalous as all that. It’s just rich people, you know. Embezzlement, drug problems, alcoholism, secret children.… It tends to happen in the higher tax brackets because they think the world revolves around them. Ponzi schemes? Those have nothing to do with investing; it’s all an ego trip. A massive pissing contest between a few über-wealthy guys with other people’s money. And suicide? It’s pretty much the most selfish thing a person can do. Hey, everyone pay attention to me, I’m dead. Only, joke’s on them because they’re still dead whether anyone cares or not.”
Devon swallowed. “Wow, I guess I never thought of it that way. Then again, that’s not my tax bracket, so to speak.”
“That’s just the world as I’ve seen it thus far. Who knows? I could change my mind about it all tomorrow. Not likely. But, I could.”
“So, if suicide is selfish, are you saying that Hutch was selfish too? Wasn’t he just buying a pregnancy test for someone? That doesn’t seem like the act of a selfish person.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Clew frowned. “Did I crush your vision of the Golden Boy?”
“No, it’s not … I didn’t have some vision of Golden.…” Devon stammered.
“Wow, Devon, you little minx. Here I was thinking you were the Good Grade Girl, but you got a chocolaty chewy center, don’t you?” Cleo’s eyes lit up.
“What? I don’t have a chocolaty chewy anything,” Devon fought back.
“Puh-lease. You have a hard-on for Hutch, don’t you?” Cleo turned her voice into a small whine and pretended to be Devon. “ ‘He’s not selfish. He was doing a good thing up until he accidentally took too many Oxy pills.’ ” She folded her arms and sat back in her chair. Her voice dropped back to normal. “Do you want to think this through a little bit more before you come down on the side of the defense?”
“I don’t have a hard-on for Hutch,” Devon began.
“You totally do! You’ve got a serious case of amour fou. Shit, why am I the one in the hot seat?”
“Seriously, I don’t … wait, what’s amour … forget it.” Devon took a deep breath. She couldn’t lose control of the session like this. “Whatever Hutch was going through, and clearly none of us really knew, it was something painful. And even in death, I think he deserves our compassion and respect. Is that so difficult to imagine, or does that make me self-centered too?” Devon stared Cleo down, hoping Cleo wouldn’t notice that she was walking an uncertain tightrope of authority.
Cleo turned to the window. The slightest blush appeared on her porcelain cheeks. Her hair fell to her face from behind her ears, but she didn’t put it back in its place. Finally she sighed.
“Whatever. Just make sure you’re looking at what’s really there, not what you want to see. Otherwise you’ll be disappointed.”
“Noted. Thanks. I think our time is up for the day, so for next week—”
“Save it. See you next week, counselor.” Cleo said the word with disdain dripping from her tongue. She pushed her way out of the room and slammed the door.‡
Devon exhaled deeply. It wasn’t personal; she knew that. Cleo just didn’t like being required to be here. Who would? Devon reached for her notebook and pen on the ground, but only found the notebook. She got on all fours on the thin carpet and looked under Cleo’s chair. The pen hadn’t rolled under there.