"Anyway, at that point she plays coy and orders another for herself and one for me, too. Then came the bombshell. She says her Ex heads the advisory board in selection of new residents, as if we all didn't know! And she is still on the board. According to her, the Head still listens to her advice. So, she'd like to 'talk' to me about it. For a minute there I got all excited. And I must have shown it because she leaned close and patted my hand. By the way, she uses a real musky perfume-suffocating! And she actually set the time! 'Five-thirty tomorrow-my office,' she said and her voice dripped honey."

"Sounds cushy!"

"But kept!" "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you keeping your office appointment?"

"You surprise me. I thought you knew me better."

"A woman like that-an M.D. with plenty of know-who never hurt any man's

career."

John turned wounded eyes on Sandy. "Gigolo is a full time job," he said. "It could ruin other friendships."

"Do these friendships mean more than your career?"

John's eyes clouded. "They could," he answered briefly. "So you turned her down," Sandy persisted.

"I told her I didn't know if I could get away at 5:30."

"What did she say?"

"You don't have to write footnotes for her. She said, 'I'm sorry,' and started to gather her belongings."

"What did you do?"

"I said, "Some other time', and she said, 'Sure'. That was it-she left!" "Any regrets?"

John smiled sadly. "Sandy, no one could ever call you sensitive."

Sandy's brow wrinkled. "Now come on-why did you really turn her down?" "There are some things that shouldn't have to be said," John answered spiritlessly.

It happened a week later. John took his new plaid jacket-the one Sandy hadn't seen yet-from the closet. But, hearing the shouting in the corridor, he threw the jacket on his bed and rushed out. In excited faces and hearty congratulations, it was easy to read the fact that someone's residency had come through.

"Who's the lucky guy?" John asked the nearest intern.

"Sandy!"

John's heart pounded. "Where?"

"Right here-Memorial!"

Sandy's grin faltered as their eyes locked, but only for a moment. He crossed his fingers and held them up above the congratulatory group. "You'll make it too-right here with me!"

Just then someone put a glass in John's hand. It was cold-too cold. His fingers felt numb. Putting the glass on the nearest table, he shuffled back to his room.

John closed the door behind him and for a moment, just stood there quietly. He thought he heard Sandy say, "I knew he was keen on getting Memorial, but he doesn't have to be such a damned poor sport!"

one

12