"I didn't," Andrew said. "I just got distracted for a moment there. I told her it was a mistake to let you stay, but she didn't believe me. Now look. Oh, for once I don't even want to bother with the 'I told you so'. You ruin all my fun."

"Renee?" Neil guessed.

"Bee."

Neil's blood went cold. "What did you tell her about me?"

Andrew grinned at the look on Neil's face. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, Neil! But don't make such a scary face. I didn't tell her your sad little story. We just talked about you. Critical difference, yes? I told her you're more trouble than you're worth. She was looking forward to meeting you, but she won't tell me what she thinks of you. She can't, you see. But I know she likes you. Bee has a thing for lost causes."

"I am not a lost cause."
Denial was automatic and a waste of time. Andrew put his hand over Neil's mouth to shut him up and said, "Liar. But that's what makes you interesting. It's also what makes you dangerous. I should know better by now. Maybe I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Should I be disappointed or amused?"

The perfect retort burned Neil's tongue, but he kept quiet in case Andrew wasn't done rambling. The answer was there, right out of reach, close enough Neil could feel it, but too far for him to make sense of. Maybe Andrew felt it too, because even in his drugged haze he knew to shut up. The smile he flashed Neil mocked them both at that near-miss. He withdrew completely, leaving just the memory of his heartbeat against Neil's mouth, and spun away.

"I'll find Kevin. He's too slow."

Neil watched him go, then huffed in frustration and turned back toward the racquets.

Andrew didn't return, but Kevin showed up a minute later. He glanced over the placards and pulled down five sticks for Neil to try.

"There's a practice court upstairs," Kevin said. "Let's go."

The cashier grabbed a bucket of balls and a key and led them through the door behind the register. The fourth floor was divided into two small practice courts and a narrow walkway. The girl unlocked one of the courts, so Neil set the racquets aside and pulled on the spare gear hanging from hooks on the wall. The weighted vest provided by Exites went over his clothes and reminded him a little of the Kevlar vest his mother gave him in Europe. He shoved those thoughts aside and tugged on gloves and a helmet. Kevin set the racquets and balls inside the court while he worked, then shut Neil in alone for practice swings.