McAdams said, “Console yourself in knowing that the rich inbreed. While the plebs with their genetic diversity foster creativity and divergent thinking, the wealthy end up producing drug-addicted spoiled brats and odd ducks who wear funny hats.”

“Which category are you in, Tyler?”

“Life is not either-or.”

Decker laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you then,” McAdams said. “I’ll be the one having a tantrum while wearing my best beret.”

“GET DRESSED,” CHRIS told me. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

It was a quarter to three in the afternoon. “Juleen?”

“Uh, that’s going to have to wait, because I got you a dental appointment.”

“Thank you.” I was trying to hide my disappointment.

“You’ll see her later, Terry, but the doc cleared his last appointments for you. Get dressed so we can go.”

“I am dressed.”

“Do you have anything else?”

I looked at my dress, a maxi in a nice floral print. “What’s wrong with this?”

“It’s a little … Manson girl.”

I let out a small laugh. “Manson girl?”

“Yeah, you know. Those clips of Leslie Van What’s-Her-Face singing as she was being led off to prison.” When I smiled, he said, “I’m taking my bike. I want your legs covered.”

I opened a dresser drawer and took out a pair of jeans. They were now a couple of sizes too big. Chris appraised me. “They’ll fit you once you start eating again. Just put a belt on.”

“I don’t have a belt. I didn’t have a lot of time to pack.”

“It’s fine. Just put on a shirt and let’s go.”

I hadn’t been out of his bedroom suite since he brought me there nearly a week ago. As soon as I stepped outside, I felt like I could breathe again. It was warm. The air was perfumed with summer, and the sky engulfed me in a glorious blue wrap. A guard was keeping watch over his motorcycle. He handed Chris two helmets. Mine was too big, so Chris adjusted the strap and helped me onto the seat.

“Ducati?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“You always favored Italian bikes. Cars too. I bet you own a Ferrari.”

“I bet you’re right.”

“I used to ride a scooter in Mumbai. It’s the easiest way to maneuver the streets.”

“Same principle, just a bigger engine. Hold on.” When I wrapped my arms around his waist, he said, “If you put your hands a little lower, I wouldn’t object.”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Never.” He revved the engine with his hands and then he peeled off.