Janis had left a message the night before. Evans didn't bother to call her back. With Janis it was always that night, or forget it.
Before Janis and Carol, there had been other women, more or less the same. Evans told himself he should find a more satisfying relationship. Something more serious, more adult. More suited to his age and station in life. But he was busy, and just took things as they came.
Meanwhile he was hungry.
He went back down to his car and drove to the nearest drive-in, a hamburger joint on Pico. They knew him there. He had a double cheeseburger and a strawberry shake.
He went home, intending to go to bed. Then he remembered that he owed Morton a call.
"I'm glad you called," Morton said, "I've just been going over some things with--going over some things. Where are we now on my donations to NERF? The Vanutu lawsuit, all that?"
"I don't know," Evans said. "The papers are drawn and signed, but I don't think anything's been paid yet."
"Good. I want you to hold off payments."
"Sure, no problem."
"Just for a while."
"Okay."
"There's no need to say anything to NERF."
"No, no. Of course not."
"Good."
Evans hung up. He went into the bedroom to get undressed. The phone rang again.
It was Janis. The exercise instructor.
"Hey," she said. "I was thinking about you, and I wondered what you were doing."
"As a matter of fact, I was going to go to bed."
"Oh. Pretty early for that."
"I just got in from Iceland."
"So you must be tired."
"Well," he said. "Not that tired."
"Want company?"
"Sure."
She giggled and hung up.
BEVERLY HILLS
TUESDAY, AUGUST 24
6:04 A. M.
Evans awoke to the sound of rhythmic gasping. He flung his hand across the bed, but Janis wasn't there. Her side of the bed was still warm. He raised his head slightly, yawning. In the warm morning light he saw one slender, perfectly formed leg rise above the foot of the bed, to be joined by the other leg. Then both legs slowly descended. Gasping. Then legs up again.
"Janis," he said, "what are you doing?"
"I have to warm up." She stood, smiling, naked and at ease, confident of her appearance, every muscle outlined. "I have a class at seven."
"What time is it?"
"Six."
He groaned, and buried his head in the pillow.
"You really should get up now," she said. "It shortens your lifespan to sleep in."
He groaned again. Janis was full of health information; it was her job. "How can it possibly shorten my life to sleep?"
"They did studies on rats. They didn't let them sleep, and you know what? They lived longer."
"Uh-huh. Would you mind turning on the coffee?"
"Okay," she said, "but you really should give up coffee..." She drifted out of the room.
He swung his feet onto the floor and said, "Haven't you heard? Coffee prevents strokes."
"It does not," she said, from the kitchen. "Coffee has nine hundred twenty-three different chemicals in it, and it isnot good for you."
"New study," he said. It was true, too.
"Besides, it causes cancer."
"That's never been shown."
"And miscarriages."
"Not a concern for me."
"And nervous tension."
"Janis, please."
She came back, crossing her arms across her perfect breasts as she leaned against the doorjamb. He could see the veins in her lower abdomen, running down to her groin. "Well, youare nervous, Peter. You have to admit it."
"Only when I look at your body."
She pouted. "You don't take me seriously." She turned back into the kitchen, showing him her perfect, high glutes. He heard her open the refrigerator. "There's no milk."
"Black is fine."
He stood, and headed for the shower.
"Did you have any damage?" she said.
"From what?"
"From the earthquake. We had a little one, while you were gone. About 4.3."
"Not that I know."
"Well, it sure moved your TV."
He stopped in mid-stride. "What?"
"It moved your TV. Look for yourself."
The morning sunlight that slanted through the window clearly showed the faint outline where the base of the television had compressed the carpet. The TV had been moved about three inches from its former position. It was an old thirty-two-inch monitor, and damned heavy. It didn't move easily. Looking at it now gave Evans a chill.
"You're lucky," she said. "You have all those glass things on your mantel. They break all the time, even in a small quake. Do you have an insurance policy?"
He didn't answer. He was bent over, looking behind the television at the connections. Everything looked normal. But he hadn't looked behind his TV for about a year. He wouldn't really know.
"By the way," she said, "this is not organic coffee. You should at least drink organic. Are you listening to me?"
"Just a minute." He had crouched down in front of the television, looking for anything unusual beneath the set. He could see nothing out of the ordinary.
"And what isthis? " she said.
He looked over. She was holding a donut in her hand. "Peter," Janis said severely, "do you know how much fat's in these things? You might as well just eat a stick of butter."