I walked into Grace of Ann, a gray low slung, non-descript building through a double glass door for the first time. The sticker, ‘Best of Yelp,’ s...ts a macabre shudder into my bones. The thought of who could leave a review, or more precisely the physically, decomposing state of such a person, seemed gratuitously gory. The note on a slip of paper torn of an envelope said ‘Room 103 — Susan.’ Susan was decently friendly, blond hair, well treated with product to control the freeze and neatly fixed. “Someone sounds angry.”I gave her nipples one more suck and reluctantly went to the kitchen to check the answering machine. The phone rang again and I snatched it off the cradle.“What?” I snapped.“Where have you been. We need you,” Dan shouted at me. At the office? What the fuck?“I worked eighty hours this week, Dan. I told you I was taking the day off. I’ve been out.”“Well, we need you to come in. This project is all screwed up.”“You’ve got John and Darcy. What can’t they handle?”“They can’t. More

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