"Oh?" Foxx said. She looked like the sort of girl who could accommodate him. Not many could. The last had been a screamer. Screamers were out.

"Have you read my books?"

"No. I'm waiting for the movie to come out." She pushed ahead of her a frowzy redhead with a road map face covered by thick layers of pancake. "This here's my roommate Doris. We live together. She thinks you're cute, too."

"Really," Foxx said, aghast. As he signed more au­tographs, he contemplated the blonde girl's mouth. It curved upward, like a new moon. There were bruises on her neck. "Where did you get those?" he asked,

5

brushing his hand languidly along her throat as the au­tograph seekers moaned in longing.

"Oh. My boyfriend," she giggled. "He gets kind of rough sometimes. It turns me on."

That was it, Foxx decided. She would do. "You'd better get a doctor to look at that," he said.

"Oh, it's nothing," the girl gushed. "Just a bruise. I get them all the time." Doris poked her in the ribs. "Oh. Did I say something wrong? Doris says I'm al­ways saying stupid things."

"My dear, you're enchanting," Foxx said. "Let me look at those bruises."

Her eyes rounded. "You mean you're a real doctor? Like on 'General Hospital'?"

"That's right." He eased her through the crowd to­ward the Rolls parked outside. "That's all, ladies," he said charmingly to the throng. "I've got a small emer­gency to take care of."

The women sighed in disappointment. One of them shouted that she loved him. He took the woman's hand and squeezed it. "Be the best you can be," he said earnestly. The women squealed with delight.

Inside the car, Foxx offered the blonde a glass of champagne. "I just love this fizzy stuff," she said. "Once I broke my arm. I took an Alka Seltzer. It felt wonderful."

"Your broken arm?"

She laughed wildly. "No, silly. The fizz. The arm didn't feel like anything at all."