Didn’t anyone in this town believe in traffic signals? I was pissed at Eli, I was pissed at Manuel, but more than anything, I was pissed at myself for having allowed Chapman to railroad me into meeting with him tonight, when I wanted to be with George. “You want me to come down and cover you?” George had asked when I’d called to explain why I was going to be late coming over to his house after work. “No. I’ll be fine.” “It’ll just take me a minute to get my clothes on.” “The meeting’s in a public place.” “So? You don’t know what this guy is like. What happens if he forces you out of there?” I lit another cigarette. “Why should he do something like that? All he wants to do is talk to me. Anyway, don’t you have work to do? Aren’t you supposed to be writing a paper or something?” George sighed. “I’m always supposed to be writing a paper. That’s what graduate students do. But what you’re doing sounds more interesting than correcting tests.”
