Jamie Brodie 02 - Hoarded to Death

spent the morning at my desk, updating some of our online research guides, filling information requests from faculty who’d been off all summer, and working on a proposal for an upcoming conference. At 1:00, I went to the reference desk for my regular two-hour shift. My partner on the desk and best friend at work, Liz Nguyen, met me there.
    At precisely 1:30, our regular eccentric Clinton approached the desk.
    Liz said, “Hi, Clinton.”
    He regarded us gravely and said, “The word of the day is rectitude .” He bowed at the waist and strode away.
    Clinton performed this service daily, Monday through Friday, rain or shine. Liz and I had improved our respective vocabularies greatly as a result. Liz looked up rectitude . She laughed. “It says, ‘The quality or state of being straight.’”
    “No way .” I snickered. “Well, he was half right.”
    “It also means righteousness.”
    “Ah. So you’re straight and I’m righteous.”
    We both got tickled and had to pull ourselves back together for the next patron.
    When I got back to my office shortly after 3:00, there was a message on my phone. "Hello, Mr. Brodie, this is Raven Hechesky. I'm the assistant producer for the TV show Clean My Hoard.”
    What??
    “We have an application for our show from Jennifer Graham, and she has listed you as one of the people she'd like to have on her support team as she goes through this process. I'd like to meet with you this week, at your convenience." She left her number.
    Holy shit . My brother’s ex was going to clean up her mess? On national TV? And she wanted me to help her? And she’d taken back her maiden name. Was that a sign that Jennifer was getting her act together?
    My brother Kevin had met Jennifer Graham in college, here at UCLA. Jennifer had grown up on the edge of poverty in a double-wide mobile home in Julian, California, a tiny town of a few hundred people in the mountains of San Diego County. I hadn’t gotten to know her well. While she and Kevin were dating, I was in college at Berkeley. After they got married, I moved to Oxford, England, to begin graduate school. I could count the number of times I’d interacted with her on both hands. Including the wedding. She’d always seemed a bit standoffish. Or maybe she was just shy. Either way, we didn’t talk much – but for some reason I’d always felt sorry for her. Even after the divorce.
    My dad started mentioning problems in Kevin and Jennifer's relationship during my third year at Oxford, but I was having problems in my own relationship with my longtime boyfriend and couldn't worry too much about what was going on with Kevin. My boyfriend broke up with me, I graduated from Oxford, and moved to LA for library school. Kevin and Jennifer finalized their divorce, and Kevin and I moved in together. I hadn’t heard anything of Jennifer since. She and Kevin hadn’t had kids, so there was no reason for them to stay in contact.
    Before I agreed to see Raven Hechesky, I had to get the okay from Kevin. If he didn’t want me to participate, there was no point in meeting with Raven.
    Might as well find out now. I texted Kevin. "Call if you can."
    My phone rang almost immediately. "Hey, what's up?"
    "You're not busy, huh?"
    "Nah, not right now. Working on a cold case, going through old evidence." Kevin was an LAPD homicide detective.
    "Well, you're not going to believe this." I told him about Raven’s message.
    Kevin was quiet for a minute. Then, "You are shitting me."
    " Nope. How could I make this shit up? Jennifer's going on TV, and she apparently wants me there."
    "I can't believe this." I could tell Kevin had gotten up and was pacing. "There's no way she would have decided to do this on her own. Someone or something must be forcing her into it. Maybe she's gonna be evicted if she doesn't clean up."
    "That could be it."
    "I cannot fucking believe that she’s asking you to do this."
    "It's entirely up to you, Kev. If you say no, I'll call them and tell them to forget it."
    He was quiet again, but I could still hear him pacing.
    "And I’d have to run it by Pete. He could say no, too."
    More pacing. Then, "You know what? Why the hell not?"
    I was shocked. " Really ?"
    "Really. Jennifer is a sick puppy. If this gets her out of her own fucking head and on the road to recovery, it'll be a good thing for society. But there is one condition."
    "Sure, anything."
    "My name does NOT get mentioned in any way, shape, or form. And I'd rather you only use your