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Louisa returned with an empty plastic two-liter diet Coke bottle and a pair of shears. His eyes widened. “What’re the scissors for?”

She clicked them mischievously. “In case I have to whittle you down so you’ll fit the neck of this bottle.”

“Ha ha,” he said. “How about just trimming the neck?”

“Don’t think you’ll fit?”

“Even today,” he said, “it looks like too tight a squeeze.”

With a single scissors jab, she punched a hole at the base of the bottle neck, then snipped a generous hole. “Big enough?”

“As long as I don’t sneeze. Looks sharp.” He spread his legs a little farther apart as she placed the bottle between his thighs. Louisa deftly inserted his flaccid penis into the hole. It occurred to him that the last time she’d touched him there, she hadn’t been nearly so clinical. But today he felt absolutely no excitement.

Just relief.

When he was done, she took the bottle away to the bathroom, then brought it back emptied and rinsed.

“So far, so good,” she said.

“Will you call Dr. King?” Danny said. He knew the GP’s office number by heart. Louisa held the receiver to his ear and he heard the clinic’s receptionist answer. The woman tried to put him on hold; he argued eloquently. In less than a minute, the doctor was on the line.

Danny explained what had happened after his waking this morning from a sound sleep. Dr. King asked whether anyone was with him. “My friend Louisa.” He glanced at her. “I think she’ll drive me.” She nodded vigorously. “Okay,” he said. “One o’clock it is.” She hung up the phone.

“Want some food?” she said.

He shook his head. “Coffee’d be good.” The phone rang. “Weezie,” he said. “Would you get that?”

She picked up the receiver. “Danny Royal’s home,” she said perkily. Then her expression darkened. “I don’t think this is a good time for you to talk to him.” Danny formed the word who with his lips. She shook her head. “He’s not feeling very well right now.” Pause. “No, call back another time. Or maybe not at all.” Set the phone back in its cradle.

“Should I ask?” Danny said.

“Your good friend Iffie,” Louisa said. Ice rimed her words. “She said she dreamed you were in trouble.”

Danny stared back at her. “Hey, Ifetayo really is my friend. You know that. And she’s Yoruba, by way of a family sidetrack to Port au Prince. She dreams, it’s worth listening to.”

“Let’s get something straight,” said Louisa angrily. “Friday night, I walked in and found your friend in your bed. With you, asshole.”

“You should have called ahead,” said Danny.

“Lame,” she replied. “I think you were playing us off against each other for God knows how long.”

“Ifetayo was really uncomfortable with this,” he said placatingly. “Like I told you, she bowed out of the whole thing. I think she was pretty angry.”

“Just like me?” Louisa’s voice dripped venom briefly. “I meant it when I told you I was going to come by today to pick up my stuff—the cards, the sweaters, everything I ever gave you, every bit of myself.”

His voice stayed calm. “So why didn’t you?”

“Don’t be an idiot. When I called you, and when I came over and saw you … You’re a mess, Danny. You’re in trouble. I think you’re really sick. I want to take care of you.” She set one cool hand gently on his forehead. “I love you. God knows why, but I do.” Her voice ran down like a clock spring unwinding and she stopped.

“Did she say anything else?” Danny said. “Ifetayo?”

“You jerk,” said Louisa. He felt her fingers tighten on his head, the nails beginning to dig into the skin. She took a deep breath. “She said you’d regret everything that’s happened.”

“A threat?” he said.

She shrugged. “How do I know? She’s not my kind of people.”

They stared at each other until Danny finally lowered his eyes. “I don’t know how many times I can say it, Weezie. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“You can say it lots,” she answered. “Maybe eventually I’ll believe it.” After a time she said, “Danny, you really are a double-dyed prick bastard.”

He tried to lighten things. He said, “Sticks and stones will break my bones, sweetie. Words