True-Life Adventure

was terrific. It was all terrific. I wondered if this was what it was like to have a family.
    We had some Mondavi Barberone. Sardis kicked off her shoes and sat at the end of the sofa with her feet in my lap. We had some more Barberone.
    Eventually Sardis took her feet out of my lap and sat in it herself and wrapped her gorgeous legs around me and kissed me. I kissed her back. Her fingers made little feathery strokes on my back and neck and face.
    All very nice, but I just wasn’t in the mood to go any further. I stopped kissing her and just sort of held her, hoping she’d get the idea. She did, but she wanted things absolutely clear: “Don’t you want to make love?”
    “Not right now. Maybe later.”
    “Is something bothering you?”
    “No. Not really. I have to go out for a while tonight. I guess I’m not very relaxed.”
    She looked at her watch. “When do you have to go?”
    “Omigod. I have to make a phone call.” I was an hour late calling Booker.
    He said we had to be at the hospital before eight, because that was when visiting hours ended. He also told me what to wear and pointed out that it was after seven. So much for the pork roast.
    “Bad news,” I told Sardis. “I have to go now.”
    “When will you be back?”
    “With any luck, around ten or eleven, I’d say. Maybe later.”
    “But you haven’t eaten.”
    I kissed her lightly. “A fact I very much regret. I’m really sorry about this.”
    “Maybe I could make you a sandwich.”
    “No, thanks. Listen, I’ve got to change.” I went in the bedroom and put on my new white jeans and an ordinary button-down pinstripe shirt, as Booker had ordered. (Actually, he said to make sure the shirt was a few years old and a little frayed, but the only clothes I had were brand-new. It was just dumb luck I’d bought white jeans instead of tan ones.)
    “You look very nice,” Sardis said. “Do you think… I mean, would it be all right if I asked you where you’re going?”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t tell you.”
    “Oh. I guess I made an ass of myself making dinner and everything. I forgot you had a social life before I knew you.”
    “Look, I can’t talk about it now. I’m late.”
    “Maybe when you come home.”
    “There’s something I ought to tell you. I may not make it home tonight.” I meant, of course, that I might be arrested, but in retrospect I have to admit the timing was terrible. Sardis looked stricken, so I said, “Will you bail me out if I don’t?”
    She managed only a very pallid little smile, thinking I was making a joke to cover an awkward moment. But there was no time to deal with it now. I had to go burgle a hospital.
    Booker and I met outside our target. He was wearing a white jacket, the sort you can buy at any uniform supply store, and jeans. He pulled a stethoscope out of his pocket and told me to put it around my neck. I did and we looked exactly like a couple of hip young docs.
    There was a candy stand to the left as we entered, and an information desk on the right. Near the candy stand was a hospital directory. Booker never gave it a glance. He just sauntered, bearing left, till he got to the elevators. I followed him aboard and he punched 8.
    We couldn’t talk as we rode, as we weren’t alone, but when we got off, Booker sauntered us unerringly to a men’s room. No one was there, and a good thing, because I could hardly contain my enthusiasm for Booker’s style: “Those ‘arrangements’ you mentioned. You cased the joint.”
    He shrugged. “It’s my job.”
    “Did you buy the stethoscope especially for this?”
    “No. It kind of comes in handy sometimes in my work. But the jacket’s new— you like?”
    “You can wear it to Perry’s.”
    “No, no, no. Mcdonald, you don’t know anything. It’s for Carlos O’Brien’s in Tiburon.”
    “Oh.” An amazing man, Booker. A key for every lock and the right clothes for every singles joint.
    “Now, here’s the drill. I don’t know what security is like after eight o’clock, but I figure as long as we look like docs we can pretty much come and go as we please. It’s 7:50 now. Take off your stethoscope.”
    I did and he took off his coat. Now I was just a visitor in white jeans and Booker was another in regular jeans. “Let’s go in the meditation room until just before eight— they may lock it for the night— and then we’ll go down to six.”
    “Six?”
    “The sixth floor. Pediatrics.”
    The meditation room had ornate