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Chapter Twenty-One
Point of View: Narrator

Zoe was working on her driving logs in her office late one afternoon when she heard the door open. She was fairly certain she'd hung the closed sign up on the door. She turned around to see who it was. A petite blonde woman peeked around the corner of the office wall tentatively and smiled. She stepped into the room, and Zoe immediately felt under-dressed. The woman was in a form-fitting slate-grey skirt and jacket suit. "Hello," she said, holding out her hand to Zoe, "My name is Stacey Newman."

Zoe shook her hand, feeling like she was going to contaminate this woman, who looked very germ-free and smelled like soap even from a distance. The woman's hands were parched and chapped-looking from over cleaning. "I'm a social worker," she explained, "I'm here from Oak Groves Rehabilitation Clinic."

"I'm sorry," Zoe said before the woman could go on, "I don't do rehabilitation driving. My car isn't equipped for it. There's a school out in Palm Springs that does, though, let me get you their number --"

"The patient I'm here regarding isn't physically challenged at all, you wouldn't need a modified car," Stacey said. "He's in our drug and alcohol program currently. I was told you have experience with this sort of thing."

Zoe's hand tightened around the handle of her crutch. "Yes," she said, "Some experience."

"Because of the patient's situation, the court's ordered a special... exception... for him," Stacey explained. "The court wants him to do 100 hours of rehabilitation practice driving with a qualified instructor, who will teach him to be more responsible behind the wheel in the future. And we were referred overwhelmingly to you."

Zoe had a bad feeling. "Why are you making an exception?" she demanded. "Because you're telling me his license was revoked, I'm assuming he was given a DWI. If he was driving intoxicated, he doesn't belong behind the wheel." Her tone was extremely bitter as she said these words.

Stacey explained, "When he gets out of the program in two weeks, he will need to be able to drive to appointments on his own, and because of the nature of his employment, we feel he will probably be in need of his own vehicle during... business trips... as well."

Zoe already knew the answer but she asked it anyway, "And what is the nature of his employment?"

"He's a singer," Stacey answered.

The two women locked eyes. Zoe won the stare down easily. "This is bull shit. The state has nothing better to do than break like fifteen of its own laws to put a reckless driver behind the wheel so he can get drunk and kill people - just because he's Nick Carter?"

Stacey seemed uncomfortable now that Zoe had won the stare down and guessed who her client was. "Look, Ms. Sinclaire, we can go to a different driving school, it doesn't really matter. The client is prepared to issue a five thousand dollar check to the instructor. Since we were so heavily referred to your program, I was sent here first." Stacey shrugged, "If you aren't interested in the offer, I can go to a different school."

"A five thousand dollar check?" Zoe asked. She did the math quickly in her head. "That's $50 an hour." She laughed, "You're not going to get anyone to do it for that."

Stacey looked surprised. "What?"

"$50 an hour to drive with a reckless maniac who landed himself in rehab?" she scoffed, "A famous one at that? You seriously think anyone is going to sucker into that? The going rate per hour of private instruction is well over $60, which is what I charge per hour, and I do so much private instruction because of my low rate that I've thought about hiking it just to slow it down." Zoe rolled her eyes, "Five thousand dollars, Jesus, you people are pathetic."

Stacey considered, "I can renegotiate the amount," she said. "Ms. Sinclaire, we just want this client to be taught well, and taught right, so that he isn't a reckless driver and he doesn't end up killing somebody. The bottom line is we're issuing the exception because we know he'll drive anyway once he's out - that's in his nature. We're heading it off by allowing him to drive, if he can prove he is a safe driver."

Zoe sighed heavily. "Make me an offer I can't refuse, then."



When Zoe got home that night, she found Kayla laying on her back, upside down on the sofa, watching Mork & Mindy reruns on DVD. She tickled her foot and Kayla screamed and laughed, kicking her feet, before tumbling off the sofa and smiling widely at Zoe, "What was that for?"

"We're going out to eat tonight," Zoe answered.

"We are?" Kayla was surprised. The never went out to eat. She reached for the remote and clicked the TV off. "Why? What's the occasion?"

Zoe grinned, "I just got a check for twenty thousand dollars."