This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He owned the sorry condition he was in, so he had to make the best of it. He forced himself to get out of bed. He gripped the edge of the night table until the dizziness passed. Then he shuffled to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower full blast. He stepped in, clothes and all, and stood under a freezing torrent of water. When he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, he turned the knob to steaming hot and almost passed out. He went back to cold, then hot, then cold again until he thought his body was frozen. Then he turned the knob to warm and literally swooned at how good it felt. He managed to strip off his boxers and T-shirt and poured shampoo all over his body. He just couldn’t make his hands work with a bar of soap and a washcloth. The shower filled with bubbles. Sounds that could have been laughter escaped his lips. Bubbles. And they smelled good.

Finally, Moss stepped out of the shower and into a thick terry robe. He sat down on the edge of the hot tub to wait to see how he felt. Better than before but still not human. He got up, walked over to the sink, and stared at his reflection. Plain and simple, he looked like shit. He still felt like shit, too. He brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth, then gargled. He did it three times. At least his mouth didn’t taste like a barnyard anymore. He should shave. With his stupid luck, he’d probably slit his own throat. He reached for his electric razor and ran it over his face several times. Not a clean shave but good enough.

Barefoot, he made his way to the elevator that he had never used, not a single time, got in, and rode down to the narrow hallway outside the kitchen area. He looked around the spotless room and made his way to the built-in coffeemaker. All he had to do was press a button because his housekeeper always prepared the pot before she left at night.