“I feel fine.”
“Harry.”
“Okay. I don’t feel fine after radiation, but then I come back. I feel good right now.”
“And you still have your hair.”
“Haven’t had enough radiation to lose it. Boy, when you see what happens to the people who get the one-two punch, chemo and radiation, it’s amazing they can stand up.”
“Speaking of steroids, doctors give steroids to help patients with the effect.”
“Back to legal and illegal drugs. What would you do if I lost my hair?”
“Sweep it up.” He smiled.
“I’d just shave it off, what was left. The hell with it. I’d wear a hat or something, but I’d make a preemptive strike.”
He rubbed the top of his blond head. “If I were losing mine, think I’d do the same thing.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it? People are sexually attracted to each other because of their looks, and then you lose them one way or the other: illness or age.”
“You will always be that gorgeous girl I fell in love with when you were a junior in high school. Don’t care if you’re one hundred.”
“Ha!” She loved it, though.
“He’s smart,” Mrs. Murphy noted.
“Hey, he keeps her happy.” Tucker adored Fair.
“If he doesn’t keep her happy, some other man will,” Pewter, finished, declared.
“You are such a sourpuss,” Mrs. Murphy said.
“No, I’m not. I tell the truth. That’s the way humans are. They need to pay constant attention to one another or else. One cat’s observation”—she puffed out her chest—“but what a cat.”
Mrs. Murphy made a gagging sound. “I’m going to throw up.”
Harry stood up, grabbed a paper towel. “You eat too fast, too much, and then you drink water.”
“It’s Pewter. I’m fine.” Mrs. Murphy jumped off the counter and exited through the cat door to the small screened-in porch off the back door.
Then she went out the pet door in the outside door and trotted to the barn.
“It can now be said that you can empty a room.”
“Oh, shut up. She’s acting like an old Virginia biddy.” Pewter snarled at the dog.
• • •
Three hours later, the chores were done and the cats and dogs were returning to their normal good humor—or as good as Pewter could manage. Harry lifted the hatch on the Volvo, and the cats jumped in.
On her hind legs, Tucker put her front paws on the car’s back end.
“Upsy-daisy.” Harry lifted Tucker’s hind end, and the dog was in.
First Harry stopped at her husband’s clinic. He was in the lay-up barn, checking on a patient who had a twisted gut. Fair had operated in time: No portion of bowel had atrophied or become necrotic. He removed the knot, and the animal would make a full recovery. The trick was in keeping the horse calm while the incision healed. For a time, that meant administering a light sedative.
While he was in the barn, Harry plucked a yellow shipping cylinder from the storage room. She didn’t tell Fair, and he didn’t know she was there.
Her next stop was Heavy Metal Gym.
At 10:30 A.M., the place was much quieter than it was when she worked out. The lunch crowd—looking for a fast workout—would trickle in starting at 11:30 and fade out by 1:30 P.M. Then, at 5:30 P.M., people would come in and the gym would be full until about 8:00 or 9:00 P.M., depending on the day. The late-night crowd wrapped it up at 11:00 P.M.
Another perfect day at seventy-two degrees. Harry, following one of her odd hunches, put the windows down two inches for the animals and grabbed the cylinder. “I’ll be right back.”
The three said nothing, but as she left, Mrs. Murphy said, “I wish she hadn’t taken that cylinder.”
The other two nodded in agreement.
Out on the floor, Noddy was spotting for Annalise, flat on her back at the bench press.
Waiting until Annalise finished her exercise, Harry walked over. “Hey, what are you doing here at this hour?”
“My day off. It’s nice and quiet now. I don’t have to listen to that awful music the men play.”
Noddy replied, “Yeah, it is awful, but they love it. Unfortunately, there are more of them than people with good musical taste. Cock rock, as I call it, does nothing to make you lift harder and better. But it’s one of those myths that will die hard. They believe it, so therefore it helps them.”
Annalise laughed. “True. Still, it might be hard to work out to Mozart.” She noticed the cylinder. “What do you have in there?”
“Nothing. It’s used to ship horse semen.”
Annalise’s hand fluttered to her breast. “Glad you said that. I’d be worried if you’d come in here for the guys.”
Harry laughed. “They give it away for free. If it belongs to a horse, you pay and you pay a lot.”
At this, the three cracked up.
Noddy asked, “Need something?”
“Oh, I dropped by to ask you if you think steroids could be shipped in this. Fair says they come in big bottles and you couldn’t ship enough in this cylinder.”
“Harry,” Noddy said evenly, “if I tell you I know where to buy steroids, even what the stuff comes in, then I’m compromised. Every serious gym owner in America has to be extra-careful.”
Chagrined, Harry apologized. “Noddy, I’m so sorry. It never occurred to me.”
“Well, there’s no one here but us, but Jesus, Harry, don’t even ask me anything like that in public. Do I know about the stuff? Of course I do. Is it sold in my gym? I’m not selling it, and no one is selling it inside these walls. I’d lose everything I’ve worked for and my good name to boot.”
“Again, I’m sorry, Noddy.”
“Is it sold outside?” Noddy shrugged. “I have no doubt, but I don’t pry. However, anyone can go to any serious gym, and I emphasize ‘serious gym’—not the matching-leotard-and-top kind of gym—and find their way to better living through chemistry.”
Annalise seconded this. “That’s the truth.” She looked at Harry. “You know what our drug laws do? Screw up everybody but those on the take. We can’t stop drugs. I don’t care if it’s cocaine or steroids. So why don’t we grow up and consider these substances something to be controlled, like tobacco and alcohol? For one thing, it would stop a lot of suffering. For another thing, it would devastate organized crime. And if you quote me, I will say you are making it up. Our drug laws have turned me and most doctors into hypocrites. Actually, they’ve turned most Americans into hypocrites.”
“That and sex.” Noddy now sat on the bench next to Annalise.
“If a fifteen-year-old kid playing linebacker on the JV football team was considering taking anabolic steroids and they were controlled but legal, he could talk openly to a sports doctor. And that doctor, if he or she was responsible, would inform the kid that yes, they will improve his performance, but at his age they could have terrible consequences for his health later. For one thing, they could really damage his liver, and for another thing, there can be unpleasant emotional side effects while one is taking them.”
Noddy nodded vigorously. “She’s right, Harry. As it now stands, that fifteen-year-old reads some studies, Googles information from bodybuilding sites that show muscle growth through chemistry, and the kid learns to buy stuff on the black market. He then takes powerful drugs with no supervision. I see it more than most. A kid like that always takes too much.”
Annalise jumped in again. “The other thing, Harry, is what if you have a bad reaction to an illegal substance—any illegal substance? You’d be afraid to tell your doctor. Instead, you’ll wait and hope it passes. What if it doesn’t, and you overdose? The policies we have now are cruel, flat-out cruel, and bloody stupid.”