Something about optioning a screenplay. No. It stayed tantalizingly there at the edge of her memory, just out of reach.
“Look who’s here,” Vielle said, leading Richard into the kitchen. “I believe you two know each other.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Richard said, handing Vielle a six-pack of Coke. “I got caught by Mandrake on my way out. Oh, and Joanna, I think I’ve got a nurse lined up to assist. Tish Vanderbeck. She works on third.”
Behind him, Vielle mouthed, “What did I tell you? Tell him no.” Joanna ignored her.
“She says she knows you,” Richard said.
“I do know her,” Joanna said. “She’ll be great. What did Mandrake want?”
“He wanted to know if—”
“Stop!” Vielle said, brandishing the knife. “This is Dish Night. No talking about work or the hospital allowed.”
“Oh,” Richard said. “Sorry. I didn’t know there were rules. This isn’t like Fight Club, is it?”
“No,” Joanna laughed.
Behind him, Vielle made an “okay” sign and mouthed, “Mr. Right.”
“It isn’t a club at all. Vielle and I got to talking one day and discovered we both liked discussing movies.”
“As opposed to bitching about the patients and the doctors and the cafeteria’s never being open,” Vielle said.
“It isn’t, is it?” Richard said. “It’s closed every time I go down there.”
Vielle held up a warning finger. “Rule Number One.”
“So we decided to get together once a week and watch a double feature,” Joanna said.
“And eat,” Vielle said, taking a package of hot dogs out of the refrigerator. “Rule Number Two, only concession-stand foods allowed—popcorn, Jujubees—”
“Deviled ham dip,” Joanna said.
Vielle glared at her. “Rule Number Three, you have to stay for the entire double feature—”
“But you don’t have to pay any attention to it,” Joanna said. “You’re allowed to talk during the movie and make rude comments about the movie or about movies in general.”
Vielle nodded. “Dances with Wolves was good for all of the above.”
“Rule Number Four, no movies with Sylvester Stallone in them, no Woody Allen movies, and no Titanic. This is a Titanic-free zone.”
“And why is it called Dish Night?” Richard asked. “I thought Rule Number One was no gossiping.”
“It is,” Vielle said. “The reason it’s called Dish Night is—”
“Because my grandmother used to tell me about going to the movies in the thirties,” Joanna said quickly, “when they used to have Dish Night and raffle off a set of dishes, and this is an old-fashioned night at the movies. Vielle, where are the movies?”
“Right here.” She handed them to Joanna. “And because we’re a couple of dishes. Or at least Joanna is. Why don’t you two go start the movie? I’ve got to finish my dip.” She pushed them into the living room.
And could you be more obvious? Joanna thought. “I want to apologize for my idiot friend,” Joanna said. “And for the mix-up this afternoon. She forgot to tell me you were coming.”
He grinned at her. “I figured that out.”
Joanna glanced toward the kitchen. “What did Mr. Mandrake want?”
“He said he’d heard I had a new partner,” Richard said.
“Good old Gossip General,” Joanna said, shaking her head. “Did he know it was me?”
“I don’t think so. He—”
“Rule Number One,” Vielle shouted from the kitchen.
Joanna called back, “Which movie do you want to watch first? A Will to Win or”—she looked at the second box—“Lady and the Tramp?”
“You said something with no deaths in it,” Vielle shouted.
“Is that a rule, too?” Richard asked.
“No,” Joanna said, turning on the TV. An ad for Carnival Cruise Lines was on. A couple stood on deck, leaning over the railing. “What did Mandrake say?”
Richard grinned. “He came in when I was working on the scans, which, by the way, did show that Amelia Tanaka had a lower level of activity at the endorphin receptor sites, and said he’d heard I had a new partner, and he hoped I hadn’t made a final decision yet because he had several excellent people he could recommend.”
“I’ll bet,” Joanna said, sticking A Will to Win in the VCR and fast-forwarding through the previews to the opening credits. She hit “pause.”
“He also said he hoped the partner I chose wouldn’t be ‘narrow-minded’ and ‘biased toward traditional, so-called scientific interpretations of the NDE,’ ” Richard said, “but would be ‘open to nonrationalist possibilities.’ ”
Joanna laughed.
“Well, you obviously can’t be talking about work,” Vielle said, appearing with two cans of Coke. She handed them to them. “What’s wrong with the movie?”
“Nothing,” Joanna said. “We were waiting for you.”
“Go ahead and start it,” Vielle said. “I’ll be right in. Sit down.”
They sat down on the couch. Joanna picked up the remote and unpaused the video, and they watched as a family gathered around the bedside of an old man. A nurse stood next to the bed, taking his pulse. “I’ve gathered you all here because I’m dying,” the old man said.
“Hey, Vielle,” Joanna called, “I thought this was supposed to be a death-free movie.”
“It is,” Vielle said, appearing in the door with the knife and a can of chiles. “Isn’t it?”
Joanna pointed to the screen, where the old man was clutching his chest and gasping, “My pills!”
“Oh, my God,” Vielle said, coming around the couch for a closer look. “The Blockbuster clerk told me this was a comedy.”
“It is,” Richard said. “I’ve seen a preview. The old man dies without telling them where he’s hidden his will, and all the heirs race around trying to find it.”
The old man began to gasp and wheeze. “Have to… tell you…” he choked out, and everyone, including the nurse, leaned forward. “…my will…”
“This would never happen,” Vielle said. “They’d have called 911 by now, and the whole bunch of them would be enacting this little scene in the middle of my ER.”
“Oh, that’s right, you work in the ER,” Richard said to Vielle. “I heard about the incident this afternoon.”
“What incident?” Joanna asked sharply.
“You’re breaking Dish Night Rule Number One,” Vielle said. “No discussing work.”
Joanna turned to Richard. “What did you hear?”
“Just that a woman high on this new drug rogue came in and was waving a razor around,” Richard said.
“A razor,” Joanna said. “Vielle, you have got to—”
“Finish making my dip.” She waved the knife at them. “Go on. Watch the movie. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared.
“Excuse me for a minute,” Joanna said and followed her into the kitchen. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?” she demanded.
“It’s Dish Night,” Vielle said, stirring chiles into the dip. “Besides, it was nothing. Nobody got hurt.”
“Vielle—”
“I know, I know, I’ve got to get out of there. Do you think we need a knife, or should we just dip?”
“We don’t need a knife,” Joanna said, giving up. Vielle handed her the plate of crackers and picked up the dip, and they went back into the living room.
“What’d we miss?” Vielle asked, setting the dip on the coffee table.
“Nothing,” Richard said. “I paused it.” He picked up the remote and pointed it at the screen.