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I’ve got to fly out to make a business deal happen.”I thought for second. “Are you serious?”He grinned nastily. “She won’t fight you. Just don’t mark her up too much.”I nodded. “Okay”Zascha looked shattered. Her mask of impassivity tried and failed, cornflower blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Bobert shot her a victorious look and walked out.She walked quietly with me back to the boat – head down watching her own feet. She walked up the gangplank slowly, feet almost dragging against invisible sludge.When I led her down to the quarters and pulled open a hatch she looked confused.“Wait a second, I have to get the boxes out of here and fold down your rack.”She watched warily as I readied her small cabin, pulling out sheets and a light blanket.“I know it isn’t really very clean, but I’ve been working on it, we’ll finish it up tomorrow. The head is on the right and I’m in the next cabin to the left – if you need anything just knock and let me know.”When I stepped out of her cabin, I. “I have an idea to bounce off of you,” I said.“Shoot.”“Doc Bartolino said it was safe.”“What is safe?” she asked.“One of my patients is dying. He’s got lotsa stuff all interacting negatively with each other. He’s lucid, he’s aware that he hasn’t got long and he’s all alone.”“What did you have in mind Mave?” Lydia asked.“In one of Duane’s magazines,” I said, “Annie Sprinkle wrote a story about going to a hospital and fucking a guy who was terminal. A kinda celebration of his life with just the two of them.”“Uh-huh.”“So my guy can’t fuck anyone, the medication for his condition has knocked his equipment all out of commission,” I said. But I noticed that he had a little paperback in his bag, a ‘girl-girl’ story.”“And you thought”... “He might like a live show,” I said.“How on earth would you ask him?”“I just would.”“No, Mave,” Lydia said, “that’s not you.”“You know what cheap-ass bags the hospital has for a patient’s belongings. I found that paperback when I replaced his bag, it had a.
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