The increase of weight was staggering. I barely got the bar back on the rack.

Rodney added another ten pounds to the bar. “Three. You not me for three.”

My knees sagged, and I thought I was going to drop it. I got to parallel. I saw myself in the mirror. It was the first time I’d squatted my body weight. I pushed up, then did it two more times. I put the Olympic bar back on the rack and hid my face on the towel feeling close to tears.

“Wasn’t no doubt in my military mind,” cackled Rodney. He poked me in the stomach as he turned away. “Don’t forget those abs.”

It was very late in the afternoon before Monica Fullbright did call. I found I had spent a lot more time thinking about her than my rabid right-to-lifer whose, muni court trial for assault and battery was less than two weeks away. One of the things that I had learned so far from practicing criminal law is that only the guilty ones bother to call you very often. I was up to four calls a day from Mrs. Peterson, the “civil rights protester,” as she called herself. Most of these calls were to read to me from the alarming and strangely punctuated religious tracts she carried with her. Lots of exclamation points. Lots of Armageddon.

The phone rang while I was on line one with Mrs. Peterson. Monica Fullbright sounded winded, short of breath. I thought about the way she had smoked cigarette after cigarette here in my office. Tapping the cigarette to the ashtray two times, nails perfectly manicured, the hand holding the cigarette slightly clenched.

“I went to Crystal’s. They said you don’t work there.”

She answered quickly, “That’s what I told my ex-husband. I wanted to be ready in case this turns into a full-scale custody battle. I wanted him to think that I was working in a real good place. You know how it is with guys in the industry.”

This is a town of pathological liars. Everyone is making a deal. The boulevard is paved with stars and percentage points. Box Office Boffo. Even my gynecologist has Variety in her office.

“Ok, I understand, but don’t try to horse me around. You hired me—that means I’m on your side.” I decided I wasn’t going to tell her I knew she had lied to me about where she lived. I was trying to think of how to tell her I wasn’t going to work for her anymore.

“Of course. I know it was unnecessary. I’m sorry. I told you, this whole situation about the kids has me so upset. I know I’m probably behaving foolishly.”