He’d been wearing a Superman costume, and she had been Catwoman, wearing skintight patent leather, hip boots, and whiskers. She had an unforgettable body, and when she took the mask off, her face wasn’t bad either. She said she was a model, but he’d never heard of her. She was twenty-two years old, with dyed jet-black hair and green eyes. He was six feet four and she had been only a few inches shorter than he was. And the sex they had later when they got back to his apartment was beyond acrobatic. They’d both had a fair amount to drink, and he couldn’t remember having that much fun in a long time. She was typical of the girls he went out with, always in their early twenties, often models, sometimes actresses, and usually any pretty girl who crossed his path. Jack had never had trouble meeting women, or seducing them. Girls had been throwing themselves at him since his teens, more than he knew what to do with at times. And like candy, he could never resist them, and Catwoman had been no exception. The only thing different about her was that the last time he made love to her the night before, something in his back had snapped and he couldn’t move. He had let out such a terrifying shout of pain that she had offered to call 911, but he was mortified and refused, and tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did. He had suggested she go home, and she had. And he had spent the rest of the night in agony, waiting to call his chiropractor, which he was doing now. The receptionist answered and promised to get the doctor immediately when she heard that Jack Adams was on the line. He sounded terrible even to her. And he said it was an emergency.

The man who answered Jack’s call sounded jovial and happy to talk to him. Jack Adams had been a patient for a dozen years. “What’s up, Jack? My nurse said it was urgent.”

“I think it is,” he said in barely more than a whisper. Even talking hurt. Breathing hurt. He had visions of himself in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. “I don’t know what the hell I did last night. I think I pulled a muscle in my back or something. I may have torn a ligament. I can hardly walk.” He could see himself paralyzed. The pain was beyond belief. He had almost thought it was a heart attack at first. Whatever it was, it was killing him.