Trouble on the half shell, bubbling from the broiler

“Was it an unhappy client?” I ask.

“It wasn’t a client at all,” Alyssa tells me. “I’m really glad you weren’t available to answer the phone. It was Jenna Thacker’s boyfriend, Paul ter Haar. If you had answered, he would have heard your voice; as it was, he still doesn’t know anything about you but a name on a card and a phone number. He’s trying to you—stop your sessions with Jenna and split the profits with him 50-50 or he takes the card to the Dean of Students.”

I can feel my stomach drop through the floor. I manage to keep my voice quiet and mostly steady when I ask Alyssa, “Any ideas for dealing with this guy?”

“Not at the moment,” she admits glumly. “The only thought I have is to talk to Jenna—but carefully, so he doesn’t see you. I’m hoping she will call you because of this; if she doesn’t, I think we’re going to need to figure a way to reach out to her. It might have to be me, even though we’ve never met, just to keep you out of it.”

“Well, I’ll do everything I can to make sure if she calls, I take it,” I promise.

“Good,” Alyssa says. “I’d hate to have to shut down—it’s not quite money for nothing for me, but it’s pretty damn close, and it’s been a lot of fun seeing you blossom—but better that than either of his options.”

I’m surprised for a moment, until I think it through. Shut down the Google Voice number, and what trail is there for anyone to follow? As long as Jenna denied everything, the administration wouldn’t have any way to finger me—pun totally not intended. (Unless another client did something stupid, but I wouldn’t worry about that.)

“I hope she calls. Soon.”

“So do I, Andrew. So do I.”