The Hotel, REM, Raining Fire and The Parking Structure

The needle skipped; it reached REM level. Alison's breathing changed; her lips ceased.

"Vivid," said David. Her Slow Wave Sleep illustrates complete ideas. Or at least, the patient's convinced her surroundings are able to be explored."

He smiled and looked to Jerome. Jerome shrugged and looked to Liz; Liz glued her eyes on the sleeping Alison.

"The dream needs only an idea to imitate reality," said Jerome. "Dreamers' illogic sustains the illusion before idiosyncrasies can falsify the experience."

Liz stared at Alison. The doctors vanished and Liz and Alison remained.

She thought of the beautiful executive hotel room being ruined by the deathly aura of her dying patient. Maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to request that the patient live in the same place she'll be sleeping.

Jerome's face paled. He handed Liz a card with his face on it.

"I guess we're off," said Jerome. "Let's go sleep David."

David turned around with his finger having finished a complex drawing of the yin yang sign, with trees in one side and boxes in another. He smiled, and left his drawing to follow Jerome.

Jerome pulled the curtain and stepped aside to let Liz out the door.

"It was a pleasure--"

He broke off and shot to the patient.

David and Liz turned and Liz gasped when she saw Alison move her plastic clamped finger; Alison's head turned and her hair fell over one shoulder as her head fell toward them.

Liz noticed the breeze and David looked at them nervously and stepped across the flickering light to close the window. His shadow danced with the flickering yellow all across the walls and ceiling, and Liz shook when she thought she saw Alison blink her eyes.

"Let's go before I regret becoming a doctor," said David. "I just persuaded myself today I wouldn't be any more happier if I'd dropped out of UCLA and joined my brother's rock band."

"Alright come on. . ." Jerome shut the door behind them and let David guide them this time.

The student at the front desk had ears, which shook at the sound of David's footsteps, and she looked up and glared for four whole seconds until she dropped them back down again onto her textbook.

They took the elevator down one floor, crossed the bridge to the other building, and took the next elevator down to the main lobby.

Liz had expected to see Debbie sitting in her same position crossed armed and glaring at the front desk attendant, but instead, she saw the driver sitting on the wooden platform that shaped the front desk and was waving his arms and laughing in front of Debbie and the front desk woman who sat on two chairs across from him and who choked with laughter and literally held on to each other for support as they looked up to his comedic gestures--

And the Dude said, "All I said was bomb, I swear. We're in an airport, damn it, and I want to know."

"Oh, Dejan you kill me," said the front desk woman, wearing the driver's pin on her blouse. "Oh, the crazy people you see at LAX are hilarious."

"Yeah, really?" said Liz. She sported the driver's cap and spun it on her head. "Makes me feel bad for the police. And just think how blind drivers like you feel going to pick up rich strangers who might turn up to be mass murders or lunatic sons from a rich inheritance--"

Liz felt awfully drowsy and couldn't feel bad about cutting in on the party.

"Let's go Debbie," she said.

The three of them turned and saw Liz walking toward them--

(--with two handsome doctors in white coats escorting me out.)

Her strut elongated. Her chin lifted and she grinned a haughty grin that only her drowsed, playful state could excuse.

"Oh, okay. Let me just--" Debbie grew pink when she lifted a finger and turned toward Dejan and the desk woman. "It was a pleasure meeting you both."

Dejan chuckled and said, "The pleasure's all mine. Thanks for not taking my word's out in the rain the wrong way."

"Oh no, I know you meant nothing by it. Besides I shouldn't have laughed when you almost slipped on those steps."

"Well I guess we're even now." He smiled and Debbie gave him his cap.

Debbie and the front desk woman actually hugged and the woman giggled and said, "Remember to come visit before you leave to Massachusetts okay? You've got my number right?"

"I'll definitely be sure to drop by with the flu or something." She laughed and they both laughed. "Hell I'll drop dead or in a coma if I have to, HAHA."

The driver and the woman stopped laughing and Debbie looked to Liz and the doctors who gave grave blank faces.

"Okay that was a bit much."

"Thanks for having her," said Liz, who grabbed her shoulder and lead her out behind the driver who grabbed their heavy load of bags again and insisted on opening the door for them on top of that. Liz looked back and saw Jerome give a short smile and David stand at attention and salute her before attempting to lean his elbow on the platform of the front desk to close his eyes and nod off; except, he missed the platform by a centimeter and hit his head on the edge of it instead. "Thank for not killing her."

"Bring her back anytime," said the front desk woman. She waved and then examined Dejan's gold pin over her chest.

When the driver, Debbie, and Liz stepped into the rain, a flash of lightning triggered a roar of thunder a second later. They threw on their hoods and bolted for the car.

"We can open our own door," said Debbie. She waved the driver toward the trunk. "Just get yourself inside."

Dejan smiled and revealed giant dimples in his cheeks. He clicked the car door button on his glove-connected key chain and lunged for the trunk before Debbie and Liz heard the car doors click. Debbie struggled with the handle; Liz pushed her aside and tore the door open and lunged headfirst upon the warm cushioned interior.

An alto saxophone played Take Five through the speakers. Debbie closed the door shut, and they heard the trunk slam shut in the back.

Tat! Tat!

The rain tickled the roof. Debbie looked at Liz, and Liz saw a water drop drip from her nose.

Half an hour later, Liz woke with Debbie's head in her lap to the driver's gentle nudge. He peered down at the young miss Debbie Magallanes and his face grew calm and his eyes reflected her entire body.

"We're at the hotel," he said.

He carried their bags with them to the front lobby. The man at the front pulled a key off the wall and said:

"Executive suite." He handed it to Liz. "Top floor, room thirteen."

Liz, Debbie, and Dejan gave the desk attendant blank looks.

He grabbed the key from Liz's hands and replaced it with another key.

"Executive suite, top floor, room one. Call the front desk if you need anything."

"I'll take those bags, sir." said a bus boy rolling a bag carriage. The driver searched himself and plopped the bags on the roller; they both tipped their hats to each other.

Up the elevator and down the hall, the four made their way to the room one, and it wasn't until Liz turned the key that she realized the driver followed exceeded his duty as driver.

(He's gonna stay over. He'll watch me sleep and hold out a sleeping pill incase I can't. Either he's trying to kill me or this is just fantastic service. That, or he's trying to land Debbie. . .)

The suite looked like an expensive New York apartment. The large bathroom had a see- through wall, the bedroom around the corner was huge and sported two large televisions and two queen beds. The dominant color was red, so the red curtains were drawn and caused a warm, comfortable homey because they shut out the darkness of the outside world which the early rain decorates behind those windows.

Liz spotted the foldout wall between the two far away beds, and a book case filled with John Grisham legal thrillers, on another, Stephen King horror novels, one more held all seven of J. K. Rowling's children fantasy, and on the last sat Eric Vonrhein's dramatic literature.

"Thank you so much for all the help tonight," said Liz. "The plane trip wiped us out."

Dejan and the bell hopper tipped their hats, and the bell hopper left with the empty carriage.

Debbie shot Dejan a look and gave Liz a glance before she pulled Dejan around the corner and to the front entrance. Liz's curiosity sparked.

(Hm.)

She exited the bedroom, passed the bathroom, and peered from the den, where purple curtains were drawn and she spotted Debbie and Dejan's silhouettes in the hallway. She leaned.

"When will I get to see you again?" said Dejan.

"I don't know," said Debbie.

"Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

"I have court in the morning."

"After though?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Good," he said. He took off his cap, and gave her it. "You'll give this back tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" She said.

"Tomorrow. Lunch. Breakfast if you want instead--"

"Either way," she said.

"Either way."

He pecked her cheek. He opened the door, and closed it behind him.

"Wow," said Liz. (LUCKY.)

Debbie turned.

"I think I like him."

"I KNOW I like him," said Liz.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Debbie giggled and jumped; she pulled the door open--

"Miss Sorenson." Said the bellboy.

Yes?"

Debbie looked sad it wasn't the driver.

"Sorry about disturbing you. A package was left over from across the hall in room thirteen."

"He held out a FedEx package. Liz took it and he tipped his hat.

"Thanks," she said.

"Oh, and here's the key to room 13. if you ever feel in luck, please, PLEASE take that room."

He shoved the key into Debbie's hands. She looked at it wide eyed and he tipped his hat.

"Thanks." said Debbie.

He backed up, and He closed the door.

Debbie threw the keys onto the sofa bed in the living room like a bad omen. she looked to Liz who looked to the package. Debbie said, "what is it?"

Liz opened it.

In her hands she held a pink manila envelope which read, "evidence: for doctor Silvia Sorenson's eyes only. open alone."

Liz shrugged to Debbie and steeped into the bedroom, where she unsealed the envelope and slipped out the object inside:

It was purple covered, fairly new and travel sized. Its pages were outlined in shining gold ink, and the first thick of pages took up more space than the many more pages bound in inactivity behind them.

She dared not open to the middle, instead, she opened to the inside cover.

It read in cursive:

The thirteenth diary of Alison Friedman.

(Since age five) Liz thought.

She stroked her hand across the red-bordered text stamped on the opposite page:

EVIDENCE.

Liz felt hot. Visions of the courtroom and the bailiffs with handcuffs came to mind. Reporters and news crews lined the outer hallway because the courtroom was overcrowded.

LIAR said the prosecution as she gave her analysis of the diary. The torn out pages were crammed in her butt pocket. . . Danny flashed a case full of money at her. He said go on.

Will beside him looked to her the way any newly in love man would look. That intense stare showed both affection and infinite fulfillment.

I love you, he mouthed. Today, tomorrow, again, and for the rest of what's left of us. And beyond us, and beyond beyond. . . I love you.

"Ready for bed?" Said Debbie. Her voice came through the wall.

Liz shut the book; she slipped it into the envelope and hid it in an empty drawer below a TV.

"Definitely."

Debbie ran in and jumped on a bed.

Liz flicked a switch, and the light died slowly. They tucked into there own beds.

"I wonder if ill dream of that driver," said Debbie.

"You will," said Liz. "The trick," she closed her eyes, and saw the man in sunglasses waving to her below the palm tree, "is to remember. . ."

The lights were dead; the darkness enveloped. The race to dream began. . .

(Liz and him danced in the long blades of flowing grass; they laughed and cheered and waved their hands at the humungous tree above them, and caught the big brown books that fell from it. Their clothes consisted of green leaves and sticks; only Liz's hair covered her breasts. She liked the wind, enjoyed the breeze beneath her hula skirt.

He raised Liz by the waist, his hands levitated her, like magic, like she were a toothpick. She reached. For the thickest one. She wanted the biggest book.

"Almost there," he said. "Almost there. . ."

She extended her fingers, until they shook, and her tongue slid out of her mouth in concentration.

A flash of light pushed her back and the two of them fumbled to the Earth. They looked up in panic.

The book she was trying to reach caught fire. Because it was so big, the surrounding ones caught fire too, and soon the whole tree immersed in fire, into one whole burning tree.

Liz gasped when she spotted movement coming out of a hole in the tree. A large black snake, entirely black with no eyes, slithered through the air. It pointed itself at Liz.

Liz jumped to her feet, but when He held out his hand for assistance and then grabbed her arm and pulled her in his direction to make a run for it, she slapped his hand down and frowned at him.

"No, get away," she said, when she shook and pivoted and ran in the opposite direction, like HE was at fault.

She heard the snake dart at her from behind, flying through the air.

"Liz," he said. "Wait. I'm trying to help you. What did I do? What did I do? Why are you running away from me?"

She ignored him. He kept calling out but her sprint left his calls fall far being in the wind. She heard the snake hiss behind her ear. She felt the rapidly passing grass blades whip her naked legs and start to lash her and cut her and make her bleed. Her legs felt numb, she couldn't move them anymore.

She tripped and fell to the shadows of the grass blades. Her expectation of two fangs seeping into her back or squeamish neck scared her more than the actual thing. . .

The radio played Canon in D major. Liz parked the limo on the curb.

Tat. Tat Tat.

The rain poured down through the sunroof; She fumbled out and landed her ankle socks in the gutter. She left the car door open, and dashed quickly through the flooded street. Upside-down a car passed by like a boat. She sprinted up the steps--(slipped on each one, tearing her knee open, wider. Wider. Wider. Blood drained and she failed to stop the blood loss with her palms. She ripped open the door.

"RAY," she yelled. The lobby sat in silence. Her eyes darted around the room, and caught no movement anywhere. Only the Green EXIT signs produced light. "DEBBIE. WHERE ARE YOU?"

DING. DING.

An elevator door opened a football field away. She sprinted toward it.

Flash. FLASH.

Every step triggered orange spotlights the accumulated in the direction of the elevator. Through the center of the path appeared the fountain, the fake plants, the benches; On her right was the Huntington Hospital Gift Shop and on her left appeared the Patient health Information Center--

FLASH. FLASHH.

She gasped.

The orange lights bled upon Skeletons in molded patient beds scattered all across her path on the tile floor; She dodged each bed as it appeared in each new flash of light.

FLASH. FLASHH.

Arms dangled off the sides where decayed flesh hung to the floor connected to the fingers.. Rat-sized flies raped the bleeding intestines and squirmed inside the mouths, ate the tongues or crawled into the throat and esophagus.

FLASH. FLASHH.

Their sounds of smacked lips echoed in reverberated moans. The smells made her vomit upon herself, and slowed her down, and made her keel over into a crippled jog.

DING. DING!

She caught the door and fell upon the elevator, landing her hands into piling pools of purple and blue puke. The door closed and she splashed in heightening mush.

DING; DING; DING! SPLASH!

She gargled the pulp and the tidal wave threw her out of the opening doors and onto an elliptical rug. She cried and scampered from the ick; she felt sticky and she shed her clothes and chucked them far across the hall-- where a single light flared.

[VIOLIN.] [CRESCENDOS.]

She stared across the dark tunnel to the light, and she heard Canon in D major commence in the elevator (she turned--expecting a man--) but the doors slammed shut. Canon in D major stopped. . . until she heard the violins restart. . . (She returned to her stare) across the dark tunnel where the light stood.

[SOFT VIOLINS.] [MODERATE VIOLINS.]

She sprinted. The light sponged.

"RAY," she said. "DEBBIE."

Light engulfed her sight. She knocked a paper light door off its hinges.

[RAISE OCTAVE.] [FORTISSIMO.]

There lay Alison--

Alison opened her eyes and sprang upon her bed, beat her hands and jeered her face into a clown's perverted smile. The sheets fell to the floor, revealed her nude-- she jumped atop a man who'd been lying beneath her and the man sprang into animation and swung the bare-breasted teen down and beneath him and jerked.

"ALISON," said SHE. "RAY, GET OFF HER. (He ignored and continued.) STOP-- STOP-- YOU LOVE ME-- ME--"

She bolted to the bed and tried to pull Ray's arm. He shoved her away and ignored her; a vain protruded his temples; Alison smiled and laughed and laughed and laughed maniacally through fangs and chameleon eyes.

"NO, NO, PLEASE," said SHE. "STOP THIS, STOP THIS. I'LL TRY FOR A BABY AGAIN; (SHE PULLED HIS ARMS) I'M SORRY-- (HE SLAPPED HER FACE AND LOOKED DOWN AT THE SWEATING RED-FACED ALISON)-- NOOO. PLEASE. I'LL TRY AGAIN; I'LL TRY AGAIN; (SHE RAN TO HIS ARM--) I'M YOUNG TOO; I'M STILL YOUNG; (ALISON LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND LAUGHED AND MOANED AND GASPED AND MOANED) YOUR GENES MADE IT STUPID--YOUR GENES KILLED IT--THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH MY GENES-- (ALISON CRIED AND DROPPED HER HEAD; A VAIN PROTRUDED HER NECK) I'M SMART-- I'M SMART (RAY SHOT HIS EYES AROUND AND BARED A MILLION NEEDLE-LIKE TEETH; HE SPIT BLOOD INTO HER EYES;) AHH RAY--(SHE WIPED AT HER EYES;) NO RAY--(HIS FIST--) NO RAY--")

Her head hit something. She plummeted headfirst to the floor; legs licked the air.

"NO RAY." she said. She felt the blankets slide and fall over her; her fingers felt the carpet. "No Ray. . . "

The flicker of lights. . . The thud of a jump. . . The scamper of feet. . .

"DOCTOR." said a high-pitched voice.

She felt the suction and squinted her eyes when she anticipated the lights.

"DOCTOR. ARE YOU ALRIGHT? Oh my gosh your forehead. I'll grab you an ice pack--"

She opened her eyes. A comforter and sheets and a pillow lay across the carpet near the TV. Her forehead throbbed and she pulled her hand to soak the sting. . .

Two knocks sounded from across the hall. A familiar voice called her name. Liz pulled her self to the alarm clock atop her nightstand. It said five thirty. . . Thirty minutes after they'd started sleep.

"Do you think that's the doctor," called Debbie, who ran the sink. off in the kitchen near the den. "What the Hell, he was supposed to come around six. . ."

Liz turned and saw Debbie cross the bedroom doorway and heard her stomp through the front hall. Two quicker knocks beat her yank of the door.

". . . High Debbie." said a deep masculine voice. "How are you. Is Lizzy here?"

"Danny," said Debbie. "What are you doing here? Are you even legally allowed to be here; won't the judge think you're meddling a witness--?"

"The judge won't know a thing," he said. "Show me Lizzy."

(Liz jumped to her feet and bolted to the bathroom. She closed the door, turned on the light, and pulled a comb and makeup from her bag.)

". . . She's in the room," said Debbie. "She hurt her head."

(Liz exited the bathroom within seconds, just in time to wave hello to Danny when he entered the bedroom). Debbie waved her hands away, pointing out to the den or the kitchen instead.

"That's unfortunate," Danny said. "Let's see it."

Liz pushed her hair to reveal what felt like a large ripe prune penetrating her forehead. Half the room's lights lit while half the others preserved the shadows, so Danny squinted his eyes and grabbed at his tie and suit collar before tiptoeing in his polished dark-brown lawsuit shoes over the fallen pillows and sheets across the carpet.

"My god that is a rather large bump," said he. "And I see you two must've engaged in some rather angry and sweaty pillow fights before I came." He turned to Debbie, eyebrows raised.

Debbie bent down and retrieved the pillows and sheets and tossed them onto the bed. (But one pillow knocked the lamp off the nightstand.) Debbie turned red and she twiddled her fingers behind her back and quickly opened her mouth to distract from her embarrassment.

"Yeah, you wish it were sweaty," said she. "Sweaty, sweaty, sweaty."

"Now, of course I wasn't thinking anything sexual in it," said he. "And besides it would be none of my business. . ."

"We'll call you next time it happens," said Liz before she leaned on the bathroom threshold. "I'm afraid we're done for tonight however. . ."

She pointed to her forehead. Danny nodded.

"Well, that's alright. I'm here for different purposes anyway."

"Oh yeah," she said, crossing her arms, "what's that? You have another law for me to break?"

He froze and every hair atop his head stood like he'd experienced an electric shocked. He looked all around as though policemen would jump out through the shadows.

"Lizzy," he said. "Keep it down will ya? These walls might not be sound proof."

Liz rolled her eyes. (She flinched when Danny mock-slapped her across the face.) she smiled and they grabbed each other like long-lost kin. (Debbie just stood eyebrow raised and one eye squinted, and one eye on her hip.)

"What's going on? Stop, Liz," she said, "before he becomes power-hungry."

He planted kisses all about Liz's cheeks, one to the left, and one to the right, back and forth; until she pushed him away giggling. They stopped just in time before Debbie lunged to intervene.

"I missed you so much," said Danny. "And I think you've only been gone-what- a year?"

(Debbie tapped her feet. She eyed Liz and went around the bed and replaced the lamp and its lampshade on the floor.)

The mirror to the right showed the clock on the nightstand. Green letters read 6:10.

"Danny," she said. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not?"

The clock snapped into 6:11. Debbie snapped the sheets over the bed.

Liz stared at Danny. She sighed and shook her head.

"I can't take your deal," she said. "I'm here for my sister, and my sister only."

Danny's shoulder drooped. He inched forward, and the bathroom lights illuminated his stare.

"Liz," he said. "You still love him. I know you do."

Debbie dropped the sheets and bended around the bed. She grabbed Danny's arm.

"I think its time for you to go," she said. She pulled him to the living room. "Leave, now."

Danny played along, and preserved his humility. However he shot wide eyes at Liz.

"He's not just my client, Lizzy," he said. "He's my best friend-- and somewhere in the past, he was yours too--"

"She's had enough," said Debbie. "Keep your bribe."

Liz followed them into the shadows of the living room and the hall. Debbie pulled open the door.

"That's fine," said Danny. Debbie pushed him through the door, and nearly slammed it shut, before Danny kicked his foot and stopped it. "Don't take it. . . I'm not here for that."

Debbie placed her hands on her hips. And when Danny peeped his head through the door, she lunged at the door, but he coughed and held the door firm.

"Oh yeah?" she said. "What else would you be here for than to bully Liz into helping your case?"

Liz sighed and pulled Debbie from the door. Debbie looked to her with shock, until Liz shook her head at her, and Debbie stepped back and let Danny push the door off of him.

". . . I came here," said Danny, who stuck his hand beneath his jacket breast pocket and rubbed his chest, "because you're about to be bugged."

Both Liz and Debbie's eyes widened.

Bugged?

"What do you mean?" said Liz. "Who's going to bug us?"

Danny dropped his hand and gulped. He nodded.

"The prosecution," said Danny.

"Are you serious?" said Liz. "Then we have to tell the judge."

Danny shook his head. He held up his hand.

"We can't do that. Attention to the prosecution's interference would call attention to the prosecution's belief that you are an unfair subject to handle evidence."

Liz looked to Debbie, who bit her lip and threw her eyes at the living room. Liz followed her eyes, and saw the couch moved to present a large empty space where the elliptical rug now sat, beside the digital fireplace. Debbie must've put it there before bed after Liz had left to the bedroom to examine the diary. She stared at the rug. She envisioned the patient bed, the white draped sheets, Ali lying motionless beneath the sheets, and the mouth less teddy bear laying beside her sister.

"Both your affiliation with Ray and your sister prove you're biased."

"But. . ." said Liz, who turned and looked up at him again, "I haven't seen her in ten years. . . We're hardly family anymore. And my relationship with Ray. . . I haven't seen him in over a year. . . obviously I can't be on his side."

"That's not obvious at all," said Danny. "The only reason it passed was because you only have less than a day with the diary and they suppose they can detect any eraser marks you make and didn't expect your husband to hire me, a lawyer with connections to people who know how to fake somebody's handwriting and people who can detach and reattach new pages of a diary and make it look authentic--"

"She's made up her mind," said Debbie. She crossed her arms. "Let her be"

"All I'm saying is the court let you occupy this evidence because they underestimated you tampering abilities. The judge does NOT however, believe that you lack any affection to either the subject of the defense, or OBJECT behind the prosecution. . ."He pointed toward where he presumed Ali would be staying-- on the elliptical rug-- after he said, OBJECT.

"Yeah sure. And who tipped you that they'd try and bug us?"

"My source," said Danny. He coughed into his hand and blinked.

Debbie narrowed her eyes and placed her hands on her hips.

"You know. . ." she said. She inched toward Danny who turned his eyes to Liz. "My father's in the FBI. He goes after people like you."

Danny swung his nose at her.

"Does he go after slick prosecutors who bug psychiatric sessions for blackmailing purposes? NO? WELL THEN--"

Liz stepped forward.

"-- Alright, alright," said Liz, shook her hands at Debbie. "Leave him alone, Deb. He's not the bad guy here."

Debbie winced and crossed her arms before stepping backward.

"You think that now. Just wait until he recites something your sister confides to you."

"I would never bug you. I promise," said Danny. He crossed his heart.

"I believe you," said Liz. Danny looked to her, his mouth shrank. His ears lowered.

Liz said, "But Debbie's right. You can't stay here any longer. Just tell us where you think the bugs are and we'll get rid of them ourselves."

He shook his head.

"It's not that simple. The bugs aren't here yet. They're coming. With your sister, and her medical monitors and equipment."

"So what," said Debbie. "You're just gonna stay here until they bring her in one hour?"

Danny threw her a glare.

"No. I'll be waiting outside until they deliver her. The team will come in and I'll supervise."

"The team?" said Liz.

"Just trust me," said Danny.

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"I'll see you in two hours." He winked to Liz and was nearly out the door. . .

Debbie said, "I lied."

Danny twisted.

"What do you mean?"

Liz looked at her.

"They're actually on their way to drop off Ali now. I only said that so you would leave. . ."

She smiled and Danny gave her a blank look.

"Well then," he said.

He opened the door completely and stepped back into the hall and summoned a waving

hand to the right of the hallway landing, where Liz heard quick footsteps approach, and two suits stepped in.

Danny closed the door.

"These are my paralegals," said Danny. He raised his hand to hide his eyes from Debbie when he tipped Ali a wink. "They happen to know a thing or two about debugging a place."

After they all shook hands, Debbie snuck Ali an unconvinced move of her lips to one side of her cheek.

"We'll wait on your balcony until they come. Just knock when they're gone alright?"

They moved out of the living room and into the bedroom where they fell out of view, and the sound of a sliding door preceded the echo of it sliding back.

The hotel echoed like a cave for a moment, until Debbie grabbed Liz's wrist and said, "What is he doing here Liz? How did he find out where we were?"

Liz played with her fingers and shook her head.

"How should I know? I didn't call him. Maybe Bruce called him."

"Bruce doesn't expect there to be any bugs," said Debbie. She bit her nail and shuffled to the doorway of the bedroom to peep toward the closed balcony curtains. "He's not a good person Liz. I can smell him, and the dirty money in his pockets that jingle when he walks."

"Danny's a good guy. And he's Ray's best friend."

"Well I'm sure Danny knows a few tricks that make him an excellent ally. But that doesn't mean he's a good person."

"He's going to help ray get out of jail. If that doesn't sound like a nice act, then check your list of morals."

"Yeah, yeah. You wine about your guilt debt all the time. But at least you still feel guilty. He seems to have forgotten his bill and zipped right out of the place without a conscience."

"Alright enough with the restaurant analogy. I haven't eaten anything in a while."

Knock. knock.

Liz and Debbie shot their eyes at the door.

"They're here?" Said Liz.

Debbie motioned Liz to wait and moved to the door. She pulled the handle and peeped her head.

"Just your average friendly neighborhood bellboy ma'am."

Debbie laughed in relief. She yanked open the door.

"Yeah," said Debbie. She stuck her hand on her waist. "What do you want?"

Liz peered at the bellboy and saw he looked ahead into empty space. His blank face stiffened and grew paler by the second.

"Just came to report a call that your quote on quote patient is to be delivered to your room shortly and that you would appreciate to know in advance so that you might freshen up into your--ahem-- proper attire."

Debbie's ears reddened. Her eyebrows collapsed between her eyes.

"What do you think by saying Proper so smugly?"

Liz said to herself, "Quote on quote patient?"

The bellboy smiled to himself. He spun and stepped down the hall.

"We're not prostitutes DUMB JERK," said Liz.

Liz turned to see Debbie's reaction. Hopefully applause.

Why did Debbie chortle? And dip her nose in her hand?

"What? What'd I do wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just thought you went to college thirteen years to learn more than simply dumb jerk. But hey what do I know, its 2013. Your college experience was more theoretical. While mine's more practical. And I learn the more practical uses of derogatory language. Like rather than dumb jerk, the more practical, dumb ass."

Liz slapped a playful hand across the adult-teen's shoulder.

"Oh shut up and get dressed you dirty prostitute."

They were dressed and waiting twenty minutes before the door knocked thrice.

Knock. knock. knock.

"That's them, isn't it?" Said Liz. "Do you think all the doctors came?"

Debbie shrugged and shook her head. She walked through the bedroom to the living room to the hallway and.

"I hope not," she said.

She opened the door. standing on the threshold stood one man in a white doctor's coat.

"You guessed right," said Liz.

Liz thought about Danny standing behind the bedroom curtains on the balcony.

Hope she's not right about everyone.

"Hi, I'm the doctor," said the man. He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

His smile stretched long, but not to long, and his eyes looked warm and calm. He could've been staring at his grandchildren when he shook Debbie's hand.

"You must be Liz," he said. "More and more teen prodigies pop out in the demographics these internet days don't they?"

Debbie smiled and her cheeks grew pink. She looked away and waved a playful hand.

"No, I'm not the psych here," she said. She pointed to Liz; and the man looked to her with the same grin and warm eyes. "She's the girl you're after."

He held out his hand to Liz. They shook and Liz felt his skin soft with lotion.

"The pleasure's all mine," said he. Liz smiled. He looked to the room. "Shall we begin?"

He waved his hand down the hallway and the sound of wheels approached. A man and woman brought in Alison; her bear sat beside her; and he stepped in, and locked the door after himself.

"Onto that oval carpet there," he said. He pointed his finger to the spot from his hand that stood above all their heads. "Mind if we take that spot there?"

"Its better than the balcony," said Deb. she stood as close to the man as politely possible.

She giggled before he could laugh at her joke.

"I'm only joking," she said.

"I know," he said. He raised his eyebrows to Liz. He said behind a private hand, "wonderful kid."

When he looked ahead, Liz froze. She could feel the wrinkles carve her face.

Excuse me, she thought. He thinks I'm old enough to be her mother? I'd have to have been THIRTEEN when I'd have had her.

He simply smiled at her and motioned Liz and the eighteen year old Debbie to take a seat on the couch. They did so and he began talking to them like a professor, and began with the name. . .

"Alison Friedman. . ."

* * *

Now an hour after he'd arrived, Liz and Debbie was practically in love with the kind, fatherly, and soft-spoken doctor. He made sure Liz and Debbie knew how to keep from tampering with the machines the patient would be tied to, most importantly. After his long but enjoyable lecture summarizing Alison's irregular comatose state, he shook their hands and said the movers would be right in shortly.

He smiled with rosy cheeks, and exited the hotel room with a soft click of the door lock.

Liz and Debbie stared at the door for a moment before looking at each other in forlorn memory.

Liz fanned herself as though she were about to cry, while Debbie crossed her arms. Debbie even began to pout before she stomped her foot and said:

"I miss that doctor. So much. . . He was even nicer to me than my grandpapa. Even more nice than all the boys at school on valentines day."

Liz nodded and stepped over to her and gave her a somewhat-intentially-too-tight bear hug.

"I'll miss him too. . . He's even nicer than my dad used to be."

Debbie wiped the tears from her eyes that weren't actually there.

From behind the curtains, Danny leapt, and he landed directly between them, making them shriek. Reflexively, Debbie punched Danny in the nose.

Danny's face swung back, while he covered his nose with his hand and froze with a glare at Debbie. Liz's jaw dropped as the three of them stood in dead silence. Debbie looked half apologetic with her large reflective eyes asking him for forgiveness; however, her hand was practically throbbing with pleasure as suggested by the slight curvature of the corner of her mouth.

And, after an awkward moment of Danny's confused glare and Debbie's throbbing fist, the two of them erupted.

"OUCH."

"GOD DAMMIT, DEB."

"YOU HAVE SUCH A HARD FACE."

"YOU HAVE THE POINTIEST, BONIEST, UGLIEST CHICKEN FIST I'VE EVER BEEN PUNCHED BY--"

Before he could finish, though, they heard more knocks come from the door.

Liz jumped and grabbed for a tissue from the coffee table that had been shifted to the wall to leave carpet space for Alison and her patient bed. She slapped the tissue on Danny's nose and helped Debbie shove him across the carpet and behind the curtains again.

By the time the moving men set all the monitors and the hypnogramme in place, still one thing was yet to arrive. . . and that was the young, pale, snow white of the evening.

"We'll have the patient here by 6 AM," said a moving man.

"Wow thanks. . ." Debbie snarled. "That should allow me to waste some more of my time instead of sleep like we should all be doing. The moving men left and slammed the door behind them.

Liz wasn't quite sure whether the slam was intentional or not.

". . . Liz. . ."

Debbie and Liz turned their white, sleep deprived faces behind them toward the window curtains.

"Yes, Danny?"

"I think I might've left a slight stain on the carpet. Would you mind--"

"Yes, Danny, I'll get you another tissue. . ."

"Um. . . I think I might need the entire box. . ."

Liz picked up the box and tossed it to the curtain where below it seemed a pipe through a hole in the wall must have leaked and spewed strawberry syrup into a light red pool surrounding a pair of expensive leather shoes.

"Thank you, Liz. . ."

The curtain danced as a hand appeared beneath the red curtain and picked up the tissue box before making it vanish up behind the curtains.

"Oh, Danny. . . You're very welcome."