“Two grand?” Anna silently mouthed the words. Jerry nodded. Then he was holding her again. He didn’t understand how she’d come back, any more than he’d got how she moved away. Teleportation, maybe. He didn’t have long to worry about it. She tilted her face up. Unlike the kiss when he’d stepped into her place, this one was the real deal and then some. After they finally broke apart, she said, “I don’t know what they think you’ve got. I just hope it isn’t the same thing I think you’ve got.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

Instead of answering, she walked back toward the bedroom. Jerry followed eagerly. He paused for a moment to scritch the King of Siam under his chin and behind his mouth. The cat accepted the adoration as no less than his due, and even deigned to purr.

By the time Jerry made it to the bedroom, Anna had most of her clothes off. He shut the door behind him. When they were in bed together, the King of Siam liked to jump up there and help. Jerry didn’t think he improved things. There, Anna agreed with him.

It wasn’t always great with them. Anna seemed more complicated than any other woman Jerry had ever known; the challenge was part of what drew him to her. So they had their ups and downs with their ups and downs. But when it was good, it was spectacular. Tonight …

Afterward, he mimed putting the top of his head on again. “Wow,” he said, and leaned over to kiss her one more time.

“Yeah.” She nodded lazily. “Wow.”

She got out of bed and opened the door. The King of Siam meowed irately as he paraded into the bedroom—what had the humans been up to that didn’t require a cat? Since he’d been fixed, he couldn’t even imagine. You poor bastard, Jerry thought, and petted the top of the cat’s head.

The King of Siam scratched his hand.

Jerry stuck his head into Professor Krikorian’s office. His advisor was explaining something to an undergrad in words of one syllable. By the blank look on the guy’s face, even words of one syllable might have been too hard. Krikorian nodded to Jerry without breaking his own train of thought. Jerry ducked back into the hallway and leaned against the wall to wait.

A couple of chattering girls sashayed by, one in jeans, the other in shorts. Jerry’s eyes followed them. He was attached, but he wasn’t blind. And if UCLA didn’t lead the world in pretty girls, he couldn’t think of any other place that would.

Out came the undergrad. He was scratching his head, with luck in wisdom. Jerry went inside. “What’s going on?” Hagop Krikorian asked. He waved Jerry to the chair the undergrad had just warmed.