. . .
I back up and close the door, weighing the bag in my hand.
Maybe they donât want me to do anything illegal? Maybe  . . .
I turn aroundâand slam smack into a pit bull of a man. Or, rather, he smacks right into me.
He is white, bald, and compact, his enormous upper body nearly too big for his blue blazer. When I look into his dark eyes, I know Iâm in trouble: These arenât the eyes of someone who is surprised or worried. These eyes are like Rodâsâcalm and in control. Then he grabs hold of me and sends me across the aisle and through a freezer door.
It happens so fastâitâs so effortlessâthat I have no time to feel surprised. Glass goes everywhere, yellow Eggo boxes tumble over my head, a woman shrieks, and Iâm getting pulled out of the freezer and pushed across the aisle.
He slams me against the metal frame of a glass door and eases his jaw toward mine, completely calm, reeking of some oaky cologne. âYou need to watch yourself, Gomer.â
I try to pull free, but heâs too strong. Scary strong.
âI didnâtââ
He pulls me closer, bites his lip and drives a knee into meâright between the legs.
He does it again.
â âMember what I said,â he whispers as he lowers me to the ground. âWatch yourself.â
The pain envelops me. It sucks my breath away, paralyzes my limbs, and overtakes my senses. Iron rods of agony slowly spread to my stomach and down my legs, worse than anything Iâve ever felt. Slowly, I slide to the ground and ball up on my side, battling the urge to vomit as I watch this guy stride toward the front, people scrambling to get out of his way, everyone parting for the pit bull in a blazer.
I hobble through the Palo Alto medical office, twenty-five minutes late for our âappointment.â I know this will be ugly, so I donât even look at the blond receptionist; I just keep hobbling down the narrow hallway toward that solid-oak door with the black nameplate and white lettering: D R. H EIDI M . D OUGLAS . I stop and take a few deep breaths, preparing myself. I know theyâre in there expanding on the list of things I must do if I ever want to have sex with my wife as frequently, and as passionately, as we used to.
I open the door and poke my head in.
A cold, wet bag nails me in the face.
âThereâs your fucking peas.â
I look up, and Kate is standing in front of the couch, her cheeks flushed with anger. Heidi the counselor, is seated on the other side of the room, grabbing the arms of her leather chair, bracing for something close to a category 4 hurricane.
Kate turns to sit down, folding her arms in a huff. âKnew youâd be late.â
K ate has fixed herself up, and holy shit, does she look good. Silky blond hair falling to her shoulders, a few strands dropping over her giant blue eyes. Form-fitting T-shirt highlighting her narrow torso. Tight, dark blue jeans that she knows drive me crazy. Black leather boots with square tips and thick heels, just the way I love them.
Heidi says, âTell him how youâre feeling right now.â
Kate is staring at me, her nostrils flaring. âLike I wanna hit him.â
Heidi soothes, âDan?â
âYou guys, I was attacked at a Safeway. Some guy threw me into the Eggos.â
Kate looks confused. âWhat?â
I lower myself onto the couch. âHe kneed me, Kate. This bald guy kneed me, right in the groin. Right after the vasectomy. The police held me for like an hour to give my statement.â I look at them both, my chest rising. âI got here as fast as I could.â
Kate looks skeptical. âWas this bald guy one of the geeks in the van?â
âThat was earlier,â I blurt. âThe Eggos came later.â
Kate and Heidi glance at each other. I use the moment to slide the frozen peas under my loose sweatpants, closing my eyes and hissing as I arrange the bag
James Patterson, Michael Ledwidge