“Don’t come in,” I tell the man standing in my doorway. “I’ve got to say, you really know how to pick them,” Charles Northcutt says, coming in. He’s white, my age, possibly in better shape, although it could be that he just dresses to show it off more. He’s also a pompous dick and Valdman’s other favorite employee. I hate him. “Don’t sit down,” I say. He sits down. “That nun, Zenobia, holy fuck, she’s something else. I bet the body she’s got under all those Jesus clothes is to die for.”