“Oh, oh, oh, TMI,” Frankie replied, knowing she was drunk and not particularly caring. “No, I want to know if you take drugs.”

“Say it a little louder, honey,” Virgil told her.

Frankie realized she was almost shouting, and she was glad the noise of the restaurant drowned her out. She lowered her voice and leaned across the table and took Virgil’s hands. “Sorry. Do you?”

“Are you a cop now?”

“No.”

“Well then—duh. Of course I do.”

“Are you careful?”

“I’m careful about all things I allow inside my body. It pays to be cautious, no?”

“It does.” She added, “What drugs do you take?”

His teeth flashed behind his plump lips. “Are you in the market? Do you need me to hook you up?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Well, I don’t usually share that information with people I’m not sleeping with,” Virgil said, “but since you’re a friend, let’s just say I don’t discriminate between legal and illegal pharmaceuticals.”

“Have you heard anything on the street about bad drugs? Laced heroin? PCP? Bath salts? Any reports of extreme hallucinogenic reactions?”

“Only among your patients,” Virgil replied.

Her face bloomed with shock and anger, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, honey, that was nasty. Pam was in here for lunch. She told me what’s going on. Didn’t mean to poke the porcupine.”

Frankie leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “Am I an evil person, Virgil?”

“What, for messing with minds? Some minds need to be messed with.”

“I change reality for people,” Frankie said.

“Because they ask you to, right?”

“Yes, but maybe I have no business playing God with what’s real and what’s not. My father accused me of being no better than a lobotomist.”

“What a charming man Marvin was,” Virgil said.

“Can I tell you a secret? I don’t really miss him. I can’t even say I’m sorry he’s dead. I’ve never said that to another human being. Not even Jason.”

It lifted a burden for her to say the words out loud. She’d felt that way for months. Her father had been emotionally abusive to her and Pam his whole life. Making them feel small. Making them feel worthless. To have him gone was—a relief. It was horrible, but it was the truth.

“Do you feel guilty for feeling that way?” Virgil asked. In black, he looked like a priest in the confessional.

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t.”

“He was my father.”

“And that means what, exactly? It’s biology. He donated a sperm cell. Is that some kind of noble act? Parenthood ain’t the sex, honey. It’s everything that comes after.”

“Is your father still alive?” Frankie asked.