“Honey, I understand,” Peter said.
“You want to see Dr. Martinez and Loretta Dubinsky now?”
Peter nodded.
“They’re crapped out in a room down the hall,” she said. “I’ll take you.”
“ ‘Crapped out’? Doctor, you really should watch your mouth!”
“Fuck you, Peter,” she said.
“I love it when you talk dirty,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I do it.”
She got up from behind her desk and started for the door. He waved her ahead of him. She stopped and touched his cheek.
“And, goddamn it, I don’t want to, but I guess I do love you.”
NINETEEN
It took Irene Chason even longer than she thought it would to wake her husband up.
But finally, he rolled over on his back and looked up at her in mingled indignation and concern.
“What’s up?”
“You plan to get up today, or what?”
“I’m a little hungover, all right? Get off my back, Irene.”
“There’s some guy on the phone for you.”
“Some guy?”
“This is the third time he’s called,” Irene said.
“What’s he want?”
“He didn’t say.”
Fiorello. It has to be Joey Fiorello. What’s with him?
“Is he still on the phone?”
“Yeah,” she said and lifted the handset from the bedside-table telephone and handed it to him.
“Philip Chason.”
“Joey Fiorello, Phil.”
“What can I do you for?”
“I got a quick, good-paying job for you, if you’re interested.”
“Joey, I’m up to my ass in alligators.”
“You heard what I said about good-paying?”