He looks up, instantly interested. “Do you like it?”

I hesitate before saying, “I don’t not like it.”

“Such peerless literary criticism.”

I roll my eyes. “I have a lot on my mind. Fiction doesn’t help with that.”

He looks suddenly concerned. “What’s the problem, Mags?”

“Could it possibly be that my name isn’t Mags?”

“No. Try again.”

“It’s nothing really.” Endof eyes a Persian cat in an expensive-looking carrying case, and I nudge him with my knee. “No,” I say. “Not in a million years.” He pants, giving me what looks very much like a dog smile accompanied by wild eyes and a crazed air. “You are a monster,” I inform him. I turn back to Laurie to find him watching me. “What?”

He shifts on his seat, and I’m surprised to see a flush rising on his face. “Nothing. Go on with your problems.”

“Are they more interesting than your dog facts?”

“I suppose so. Unless you’re telling me that you’ve got worms, because according to this magazine, they’ve got a new treatment for that.”

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Problems?” he intones.

“I don’t sleep very well in the period before a trial.”

“Is it all that not caring about your client’s bullshit?” he says in a sympathetic tone.

“No,” I say, unable to help the revolted edge in my reply. “I don’t care, and that is a good thing.”

“Why?”

“Because I would not be doing my job correctly. I cannot afford to care. I just have to defend them. That is my job. I’m not their friend or family or their priest. I am their barrister.”

“I can see that all those legal dramas I watched were useless.”

I roll my eyes. “Ridiculous dramas.”

He grins. “So, the problem is that you can’t sleep?”

“No.” I look idly around the waiting room. “My head is too full of facts. They swirl around up there like a—” I search for the word. “Like a kaleidoscope.” I sigh. “Ack. You see the problem, Laurie. I can’t even summon words.”

He scans my features, and I can almost see the thoughts whirling behind his eyes. He starts to say something, but the door opens, and a man in scrubs calls, “Endof Carlsen?”

I stiffen. “Is he summoning me by my dog’s name?”

Laurie laughs and stands up. “Get used to it.”

“And what is this giving him my surname? I’m not married to the ridiculous creature.”

“No, you’re just his daddy,” my supposed friend says, unable to help his grin as he ambles over to the waiting vet.

I look down at Endof. “Ridiculous,” I say, and he whines as if agreeing.