Dave hated getting a massage with a man; he thought it was something only a gay guy would do. I always thought he was just worried about having his penis “shift” like George’s did in that episode of Seinfeld.

I listened to the woman from the hotel type away on her end. “Okay, perfect! We’re all set,” she chirped. “Vaya con Dios, señora.”

“Vaya con Dios yourself.”

I clicked off and stared into space for a moment. Dave had someone serious enough in his life to take to Jon and Catherine’s wedding. Those wedding photos would circulate for a long time—you didn’t just take some bimbo one-night stand. I knew he wasn’t with Chloe; she was still in Europe playing a vampire princess in that cable movie. I had Grant, who was juggling me with a lesbian. Life didn’t seem fair. I buried my head in my hands on my desk and tried to do some yoga breathing exercises. I was feeling a little unglued and panicked.

“Dani, are you okay?”

I jerked myself upright guiltily, to see Rich standing in my doorway.

“Is this not a good time?” he asked. For once he seemed almost tentative.

“No, it’s okay. Just a little bit of a migraine, that’s all.”

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes.” Now this was getting old. “Come in, sit.” I gestured toward the chair.

I watched Rich move to take the chair. He looked good. His dark hair was clipped shorter than usual and he had a bit of a tan, as if he’d spent a lot of time outside over the weekend. He was wearing a crisp black jacket over a simple gray cotton T-shirt. It was not a ratty T-shirt or something picked up at the Gap; I could tell from

across the desk that it would feel plush beneath my fingers.

“So?” I asked, trying to be professional.

Rich leveled a look at me. “You asked me to meet with you, Dani, about some questions you had about an interrogation scene . . .”

He was trying to lead me into why he was here. I’d been so distracted by the Mexico phone call that I felt a little blank upstairs.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m getting stuff ready for the O.J. Show and I wanted to go over some basic things about interrogations.” I looked up from my notebook. “You do know about that stuff, right?”

He smiled slightly. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, I’ve heard so many things about this left side/right side thing when it comes to interrogating someone. Is it true that people look to the left when they’re lying and to the right when they’re telling the truth while being questioned by police?”