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gallows | An LA Crime Story

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Gallows was just closing up but she had about twenty minutes she could give to Rhea.

“You calmed down?” Gallows asked as she gave Rhea a bottle of Figi water and gestured her to sit.

“You have anything besides water?” Rhea asked, deciding not to sit. Gallows didn’t. Rhea gave her the water back. “No, I haven’t calmed down. I’m freaking out a little. I got a job to make a little money but I’m not making enough to live on, so–”

“I’m going to tell you right now, “Gallows interrupted, “This is going to take awhile.”

“I’m not going to forgive myself-” Rhea reminded Gallows.

“I get it. It keeps you going. But we’re going to have to find another way into you’re being able to stop self-destructing.”

“I told you I gave them up.”

“And the desire?”

Rhea shrugged, “I have the desire to shoot every molester I find but I don’t.”

Gallows changed the subject: “Does the thought of sleeping with a nice forty year old man do anything for you?”

“Does he have to be nice?”

Gallows didn’t think that was funny.

“Sorry.” Rhea apologized. “Really, I never think about it.”

“OK. Well… start. Start there. Imagine it. Think about it. Then write down how you feel about it. We also need to figure out some practical ways that you can survive while we work on the self-acceptance thing.”

“I can work on that and do my job, Doctor. I need my job. I need the money.”

“A starting cop makes sixty three grand. You were a detective third grade– they just stopped paying you two months ago–”

“That’s why I need more money.”

“You buy a house or something?”

“I pay sixteen fifty a month. Rent controlled.”

“Don’t tell me all the money went to–”

“My mom. I send alot to my mom. They had a hard time working after–”

“You might need to get a roommate–”

“In a one bedroom?”

“Move.”

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