She giggled. “No, I'm just joshing you, Mr.—sorry, Doctor No Con. I know how touchy you healer types are about that. Daddy always had a bovine when someone called him mister.”

“Alex is fine.”

“Alex. The Great. Are you great? Wanna fuck and suck?”

Before my mouth could close, she said, “But seriously, folks.”

Her smile was still on high beam and her breasts were still pushing forward. But she'd reddened and the muscles beneath one of the lovely cheekbones were twitching.

She said, “What a tasteless thing to say, right? Stupid, too, in the virus era. So let's forget about stripping off my clothes and concentrate on stripping my psyche, right?”

“Meredith—”

“That's the name, don't wear it out.” Her hand brushed against the mug and a few droplets of coffee spilled on the table.

“Shit,” she said, grabbing a napkin and blotting. “Now you've really got me spazzing.”

“We don't need to talk about you, personally,” I said. “Just about the school.”

“Not talk about me? That's my favorite topic, Alex, the sincere shrink. I've spent Godknowshowmuch money talking to your ilk about me. They all pretended to be utterly fascinated, least you can do is fake it, too.”

I sat back and smiled.

“I don't like you,” she said. “Way too agreeable. Can you get a hard-on on demand—no, scratch that, no more dirty talk. This is going to be a platonic, asexual, antiseptic discussion . . . the Corrective School. How I spent my summer vacation by Meredith Spill-the-Coffee Bork.”

“Were you there for only one summer?”

“It was enough, believe me.”

The waitress came over and asked if we wanted anything else.

“No, dear, we're in love, we don't need anything else,” said Meredith, waving her away. A wine list was propped between the salt and pepper shakers. She pulled it out and studied it. Moving her lips. Tiny droplets had formed over them. Her smooth, brown brow puckered.

She put the list down and wiped the sweat from her mouth.

“Caught me,” she said. “Dyslexic. Not illiterate—I probably know more about what's going on than your average asshole senator. But it takes effort—little tricks so the words make sense.” Another huge smile. “That's why I like to work with Hollywood assholes. None of them read.”

“Is the dyslexia why you went to the Corrective School?”

“I didn't go, Alex. I was sent. And no, that wasn't the official reason. The official reason was I was acting out. One of you guys' quaint little terms for being a naughty girl—do you want to know how?”

“If you'd like to tell me.”