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away.” She snapped her arm down as though she were whipping a creature into submission. “So you wanna tag along?” Esther held back a grimace.
    “I think I'm gonna hang out here, catch up on some me time. I have a date with Mr. Bubbles, and he's quite a gentleman.”
    “Well, enjoy, and make sure he doesn't stiff you on the tab and run off with the Brawny towel guy. I'll try not to wake you when I come in.”
    “Don't you mean when we come in?”
    Courtney giggled. “No way. After this buildup, Ken'll be lucky if he ever sees the apartment.”
    Esther nodded and watched the television episode play out for a few minutes. She'd seen this one several times, all of them in fact, but always pressed stop feeling happy, satisfied. If these people, with all of their problems, could find happiness so easily and on such a regular basis, shouldn't she be granted a single moment of it?
    Esther went to the fridge and took out a Corona, the cold cutting through her skin life a blade. She took a sliver of lime and popped it into the mouth of the bottle, holding her thumb over the top and inverting it. The lime slowly rose to the top, soaking the beer in. Releasing her thumb with an effervescent fizz, she took a long, satisfying sip and wiped her mouth.
    She slipped on her pink terrycloth bathrobe, picked up a tattered paperback and carried the bottle and book into the bathroom. She ran the water until it was a few degrees over lukewarm, then disrobed and slipped in. As her skin heated up, she sprinkled bath salts underneath the faucet, the crystals tickling her skin like champagne. She took another long pull from the bottle.
    I deserve this , she thought.
    It all made perfect sense. It should have relaxed her into submission, except that during the forty-five minutes Esther sat in the warm water she didn't once open her book. She let the beer grow warm on the tile next to the tub, soapy water spilling onto the floor.
    John Gillis.
    She couldn't get him out of her head. She could feel blood in his pages that she'd never felt before, a life speaking to her, waiting to pump through her veins. For a brief moment, she felt an urge to grab a taxi and head down to Slappy's Slop House. She just wanted to see him, to feel him near her. But she pushed it away and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing other images, irrelevant, unkind images into her head in his place.
    Little girl stuff , she thought, thrusting the idea from her mind. I'm too old to have crushes. Besides, I've never even met the guy. He could be just like the rest of them. Personal and professional feelings cannot be one and the same. I won't let them.
    Esther sat in the bath until her fingers were wrinkled and scaly, dumping the untouched beer into the sink. After drying off, she collapsed on her bed, rearranged the pillows until she was comfortable, and turned on the radio. Soft rock. Sting maybe. They all sounded similar, but right now she needed to feed her emotions even in spite of quality music.
    Courtney had already left to meet Ken. The apartment was silent. Car horns bleated outside the window. Life went on without her. The sounds had become as common as the feeling she was failing to tune out, that had struggled to get out for years. She wouldn't let them in, couldn't let them in.
    Esther sipped her beer and read, her mind slowly drifting away from the world that stood still outside her window.

Chapter Three
    I n recent weeks, John Gillis had spent less and less time picking out clothes, often grabbing whatever jeans and t-shirts lay crumpled around his apartment, just confirming they didn't need to be washed before submitting to the nightly bombardment of liquor and beer. John's wardrobe used to be the only facet of his day that he controlled. Now even that had lost its appeal.
    “Scotch and soda, and don't make me ask twice,” he heard from the man with a sawdust-colored ponytail who smelled like he'd been sautéed in Paco Rabanne. He was tempted to sneak behind the