From The Dead by John Herrick Page A

me to check out the band for a film.
The—wait, I just had a brain fart: What’s their name?”
    Before Jesse could answer, Dale chimed in. “Final
Fuse.” Another grin. Dale looked like a man who carried a perpetual
inside joke and hid it behind a cloak of intellectualism. A man
who, when caught by surprise, possessed enough self-control to
steady his response. Cool under pressure.
    “Dale was a medical consultant on a film a few months
ago,” Jada said.
    That explained his composure. The guy was a
doctor.
    “Chiropractor?” Jesse quipped, just for the hell of
it. Doctors seemed to hate the joke. Jada shot him a look that
articulated she didn’t share the humor, either. She had a sixth
sense for money and influence, and this guy reeked of it. Jada
didn’t make enemies with such people.
    Dale chuckled. “No. Plastic surgeon.”
    Jada laughed and touched Dale’s arm. Jesse snorted to
himself. Typical Jada, who flirted with anyone who might prove
exciting.
    “Good to see you again,” Dale said to Jada. Then he
turned to Jesse and added, “Nice to meet you.” Jesse and Dale shook
hands again before Dale sauntered off.
    “He’s not really a plastic surgeon,” Jada said. “Last
time I saw him, he was in the middle of a divorce. His wife waited
till she got her plastic surgery paid for before she told him she
intended to file. He was crushed.”
    Okay, maybe Jesse misjudged the guy. Different as
Jesse and Jada were, Jada had become a part of Jesse’s life, and he
couldn’t stand the idea of losing her.
    An hour later, Jesse had his fill of the throbbing
music and wandered to a patio outside, where a group of smokers
congregated. When he eyed Dale, who stood alone, Jesse strolled up
to him.
    Dale took another drag from his cigarette. “A doctor
who smokes,” he admitted.
    “My illusions are shattered.” Jesse stared out at the
horizon as it faded amid nightfall. “What kind of medicine do you
practice?”
    “Cardiology. I have an office in Sherman Oaks.”
    “A cardiologist who smokes.”
    “Yeah, you’d be surprised. My ex-wife loved to
mention the inconsistency. She was a yoga nut.”
    “Sorry about your divorce. Jada mentioned it.”
    “My ex got everything but the Maserati.” He
extinguished the cigarette while the final cloud seeped through his
lips. “What can I say? Shallow women suit me.”
    The smoker group returned inside, which left Jesse
and Dale by themselves. Aside from the music, muted through closed
glass doors, the evening was calm. Dale flicked a lingering ash
from the railing.
    “You and Jada have been together how long?”
    “About ten years. We were friends back then, and it
evolved.” As he pondered his own reply, Jesse grew perplexed. “Come
to think of it, I don’t remember our first actual date.”
    “And you’re a …”
    “An actor.”
    “Anything I might’ve seen?”
    Jesse hated that question. The answer forced him to
face the reality of a typical week. “I work as an extra right now.
Projects here and there, but not a big role yet. Jada never
mentioned it?”
    “I wouldn’t take it personally. She never mentioned a
relationship, that’s all.”
    “I guess she wouldn’t talk about it at work.”
    Dale stepped back and tilted his head to scan Jesse’s
face. “You’re not from around here,” he observed. “Born and raised,
I mean.”
    Jesse sniffed. In the awkward silence, he could tell
Dale was ready to head inside.
    This guy is a doctor, right? Maybe he can
make sense of my symptoms.
    “Are you familiar with other areas of medicine
besides cardiology?”
    “A working knowledge. Why do you ask?”
Jesse squirmed inside; he didn’t want to go into detail. On the
other hand, he did want peace of mind in the matter, a sense that
all was okay.
    “Look,” Jesse said, “this isn’t a big deal. But Jada
doesn’t know anything about it, and you might be aware of how …
reactionary she can be.”
    Dale chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Jesse slid