Wade must have had some idea what Roberta was up to, because other than a twitch at the side of his mouth, he showed no reaction. Nola leaned her head back on the headrest, composing sentences for her talk tonight with Kong Ruiji. Outside, the rectangular pools of rice shimmered in a darkening pink. She was tired and had no spare brain cells for Roberta. In thirty minutes she would be holding Lulu, and nothing else mattered.

When she asked no questions, Roberta went on. “CNB wants my fat ass back, and they’re willing to pay for it—big time.”

“Howard Stern and Imus have desensitized the audience and network management to vulgarities,” Wade commented.

“Muck is in,“ Roberta said, “and I’m it, female-style. Howard Stern talks about his bowel movements? I have more orifices to discuss.”

“I’m sure you’ll bring up the ratings,” Nola murmured.

Wade shot her a look of warning. The second car with more security men passed them to take the lead. Nola waved, even though they could not see her through the tinted glass.

“A new management team at CNB Radio is offering me the morning rush hour to do whatever I goddamn please,” Roberta went on. “What do you think of ‘The Big Mouth Hour?’ I like the sound of it. ‘Mouth. Th. Th.’ Cute, huh?”

She motioned with her head toward Yoram, whose five-o’clock shadow had appeared at noontime. “I’ll miss your hunky bodyguards,” she told Wade. “What do you do, measure how low they hang?”

Nola closed her eyes. Soon, very soon, she would be with Lulu. For whatever time was left for them.

Arriving at the hotel, Roberta struggled to pull herself out as if her body was fighting a tidal wave that seemed to pin her down. She sniffed the air like a hound catching the scent of blood, and her ringlets trembled in anticipation.

“Here you are, all my best friends!” she greeted the paparazzi and raised her arms with mock enthusiasm. “Why don’t you get lost?” In spite of her previous assertion that this was no longer her job, she took charge, picking out her favorites while Yoram’s newly promoted deputy, a well-groomed, robust black man, summoned additional hotel staff to unclog the way for Nola’s passage.

Wade waited with Nola in the limousine until it was safe to emerge. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away. He spoke with a touch of sorrow, “Say what you will. Roberta is a professional through and through.”

“It took the patience of Job to tolerate her for two years, eleven months and three weeks. But who’s counting?”

“You’d better be nice to her until the end of this tour. She’s promised to stay the week. But once she’s back on the air, everyone is fair game. The celebrity she has the most material on is you. Three years’ worth of stuff.”