Back Intervention
Chapters (34)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Epilogue
  34. Bibliography

Suddenly the two old friends sitting in the back of the taxi stared at each other and smiled. Then they laughed.

“Can you believe us?” Shawn questioned.

Jack shook his head. “We’re acting like teenagers.”

“Kids is more like it,” Shawn corrected. “But I’m just blowing off steam. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on Jamie boy tonight.”

Their taxi pulled up to the OCME DNA building, and Jack ran in to ask the guards for a cart to meet them at the receiving dock. Arriving about the same time, Jack and Shawn unloaded the glass and stacked it on the cart. Jack patted the top of the last stack, somewhat out of breath. “Glass might not look like much when you are looking through it, but I can tell you it’s damn heavy stuff.” Shawn nodded as he ran the back of a hand across a sweaty brow.

“Can I trust that you’ll be able to get this unloaded upstairs?” Jack asked, with his hand still resting on the glass.

“No problem,” Shawn said confidently. “I’ll have Ms. Flirtatious Independence upstairs lend a hand.”

“I wouldn’t take offense at Alex,” Jack said. “He’s just one of those very friendly, outgoing people. He likes everyone, and everyone likes Alex.”

“I don’t have any beef with Alex. My problem is that Sana has been slip-sliding to I don’t know exactly where. You know what I’m saying? Take her hair as we discussed. It was gorgeous long, and I told her not to cut it, so she cuts it. I ask her to do small things around the house, like iron my shirts; she tells me she works as hard as I do. I tell her I shovel the snow and take out the trash. You know what she said then?”

“I have no idea,” Jack said, hoping his tone conveyed that he didn’t know or care.

“She says she wants to trade. I do the ironing; she does the trash and the shoveling. Can you imagine?”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said vaguely, refusing to be drawn into a discussion of marital difficulties. “What is your address again?” he asked, to change the subject.

“Forty Morton Street. Do you remember how to get there?”

“Vaguely,” Jack admitted. He took out a small pad and wrote down the address. “Okay. Unless my wife has other plans, I’ll be there at seven. And what about tomorrow? Are you guys planning to work? If you are and you don’t mind, I’d like to stop in and see how things are going.”