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God, what a perfectly wonderful way to begin a romantic conversation.

The head withdrew from the door, and the door closed.

“I give you my personal guarantee,” Mr. Robert Holland announced sincerely from the television screen, “that you’ll never get a better deal anywhere in the Delaware Valley than you’ll get from me. Step into any one of our locations today, and one of our sales counselors of integrity will prove it to you.”

“You hypocritical fucking thief!” Officer Payne responded indignantly.

The nurse returned, more quickly than Matt had expected, carrying a tray with a tiny paper cup on it, and two stainless-steel devices, one under her arm, which reminded Matt of the phrase “form follows function.”

The rest of her was as attractive as her face. She was tall, and lithe, and moved with grace.

Scandinavian, he thought. Or maybe one of those Baltic countries, Latvia, Estonia. Maybe Polish? Jesus, she’s attractive!

She put the functional utensils on the bed beside him, and then half filled a plastic glass with water from a carafe. Then she handed him the tiny paper cup. There was one very small pill, half the size of an aspirin in it.

“What’s this?

”

“Demerol.”

“Will it work?”

“The doctor apparently thinks so.”

Matt shrugged, then reached into the cup for the pill. He lost it between the cup and his lip.

The nurse shook her head, and then when Matt was unable to find it in the folds of his sheets found it for him.

“Watch,” she said. She picked up the cup, stuck out her tongue, and then mimed upending the pill cup onto her tongue.

“Think you can manage that?”

“I’ll give it a good shot.”

She dropped the pill into the paper cup and handed it to him.

“How do I know you don’t have some loathsome disease?” Matt asked.

“She said you’d probably be trouble,” the nurse said.

“Who’s she?”

“Margaret McCarthy,” the nurse said. “Trust me. Take your pill.”

He succeeded in getting the pill into his mouth and then swallowing it.

“How do you know Margaret?”

“We’re going for our BSs at Temple together,” the nurse said.

“Are you going to tell me what to call you, or am I going to have to ask Margaret?”

“You can call me Nurse,” she said.

“Here I am, in pain, and you won’t even tell me your name?”

“Lari,” she said. “Lari Matsi.”