'Pleased to know you,' Morrison said. He wanted a cigarette very badly.
'Have a seat.'
Donatti put the receptionist's form on the desk, and then drew another form from the desk drawer. He looked directly into Morrison's eyes. 'Do you want to quit smoking?'
Morrison cleared his throat, crossed his legs, and tried to think of a way to equivocate. He couldn't. 'Yes,' he said.
'Will you sign this?' He gave Morrison the form. He scanned it quickly. The undersigned agrees not to divulge the methods or techniques or et cetera, et cetera.
'Sure,' he said, and Donatti put a pen in his hand. He scratched his name, and Donatti signed below it. A moment later the paper disappeared back into the desk drawer. Well, he thought ironically, I've taken the pledge.
He had taken it before. Once it had lasted for two whole days.
'Good,' Donatti said. 'We don't bother with propaganda here, Mr Morrison. Questions of health or expense or social grace. We have no interest in why you want to stop smoking. We are pragmatists.'
'Good,' Morrison said blankly.
'We employ no drugs. We employ no Dale Carnegie people to sermonize you. We recommend no special diet. And we accept no payment until you have stopped smoking for one year.'
'My God,' Morrison said.
'Mr McCann didn't tell you that?'
'No.'
'How is Mr McCann, by the way? Is he well?'
'He's fine.'
'Wonderful. Excellent. Now . . . just a few questions, Mr Morrison. These are somewhat personal, but I assure you that your answers will be held in strictest confidence.'
'Yes?' Morrison asked noncommittally.
'What is your wife's name?'
'Lucinda Morrison. Her maiden name was Ramsey.'
'Do you love her?'
Morrison looked up sharply, but Donatti was looking at him blandly. 'Yes, of course,' he said.
'Have you ever had marital problems? A separation, perhaps?'
'What has that got to do with kicking the habit?' Morrison asked. He sounded a little angrier than he had intended, but he wanted - hell, he needed - a cigarette.
'A great deal,' Donatti said. 'Just bear with me.'
'No. Nothing like that.' Although things had been a little tense just lately.
'You just have the one child?'
'Yes. Alvin. He's in a private school.'
'And which school is it?'
'That,' Morrison said grimly, 'I'm not going to tell you.'
'All right,' Donatti said agreeably. He smiled disarmingly at Morrison. 'All your q~estions will be answered tomorrow at your first treatment.'
'How nice,' Morrison said, and stood.
'One final question,' Donatti said. 'You haven't had a cigarette for over an hour. How do you feel?'
'Fine,' Morrison lied. 'Just fine.'
'Good for you!' Donatti exclaimed. He stepped around the desk and opened the door. 'Enjoy them tonight. After tomorrow, you'll never smoke again.'
'Is that right?'
'Mr Morrison,' Donatti said solemnly, 'we guarantee it.'
He was sitting in the outer office of Quitters, Inc. ,the next day promptly at three. He had spent most of the day swinging between skipping the appointment the receptionist had made for him on the way out and going in a spirit of mulish co-operation - Throw your best pitch at me, buster.
In the end, something Jimmy McCann had said convinced him to keep the appointment - It changed my whole fife. God knew his own life could do with some changing. And then there was his own curiosity. Before going up in the elevator, he smoked a cigarette down to the filter. Too damn bad if it's the last one, he thought. It tasted horrible.
The wait in the outer office was shorter this time. When the receptionist told him to go in, Donatti was waiting. He offered his hand and smiled, and to Morrison the smile looked almost predatory. He began to feel a little tense, and that made him wa~t a cigarette.
'Come with me,' Donatti said, and led the way down to the small room. He sat behind the desk again, and Morrison took the other chair.
'I'm very glad you came,' Donatti said. 'A great many prospective clients never show up again after the initial interview. They discover they don't want to quit as badly as they thought. It's going to be a pleasure to work with you on this.'
'When does the treatment start?' Hypnosis, he was thinking. It must be hypnosis.
'Oh, it already has. It started when we shook hands in the hall. Do you have cigarettes with you, Mr Morrison?'
'Yes.'
'May I have them, please?'
Shrugging, Morrison handed Donatti his pack. There were only two or three left in it, anyway.