greater Los Angeles area. Inside the U was a small, unappetizing pool ringed by a few scraggly palm trees and other plantings fighting for life. The building was two stories high with mostly one-bedroom units, although there were a few studios and two-bedroom apartments as well. The building manager lived in a ground-floor studio next to the back gate. His contribution to the building was a bad joke, as George had come to learn over the years. At exactly 3:00 P.M. every day the guy began drinking. If he made an on-site inspection of an apartment past 3:00 P.M. , a drink was always in hand. And since he was hungover every morning, he was MIA before noon.
The ground-floor units of the complex had small fenced-in patios facing the pool. George estimated that the rickety fences hadnât seen a coat of paint in at least ten years. George occupied a one-bedroom unit, as did Sal. Salâs apartment was just to the left of Georgeâs, and on the other side a wannabe actor slash waiter. His name was Joe. George didnât know the last name, and he didnât want to.
The actorâs apartment, like Salâs, was the mirror image of Georgeâs but, unfortunately for George, their bedrooms shared a shoddily constructed common wall without insulation. Consequently, George already knew quite a bit about the actor, since he could hear the manâs conversations as clearly as if he were in Georgeâs apartment. Joe worked at a nearby Beverly Hills restaurant and had lots of one-nighters that he picked up at the dive bars on Sunset over in West Hollywood. These sexual escapades often woke George up. A few times, desperate to get back to sleep, George pounded on the common wall, but it had never done any good. It was apparent that Joeâs attitude toward women was not all that different from Claytonâs.
Since George had so many nights that required him to stay in the hospital on call, heâd tolerated the Joe the Actor issue, but now that he was about to begin his final year of residency, which had no scheduled night call, he knew he was going to have to do something.
George skirted the pool, glancing over at two inked-up twenty-something girls floating on rafts. They lived in one of the upstairs units. They were drinking PBR beers from tallboy cans and didnât acknowledge George as he passed. He assumed his lack of body art combined with his somewhat combed hair was a factor.
Rounding a sad-looking palm tree, George started toward his door. Besides Sal, George was friendly with only one other tenant. His name was Zee, and George really didnât know him all that well. He wasnât even sure if Zee was his real name or not. He was in his mid-twenties and used to work for a computer gaming company. He had gotten laid off when a major new product bombed upon its release. According to Zee, he had nothing to do with that particular product, but since he was the low man on the totem pole, he was one of the employees who got their walking papers. Now he supported himself playing poker on the Internet, a career choice George never knew existed until Zee gave him the 411 on it.
George knew Zee to be incredibly computer savvy and capable of fixing anything and everything associated with hardware and software. That talent had come in handy on occasion. Zee had helped George with a number of iPad and iPhone issues. George was also aware that Zee was an accomplished hacker since he had regaled George with hacking stories while fixing whatever computer device wasnât working. It seemed to George that Zee hacked secure sites just for the fun of it. Zee bragged that he could hack into anything.
Slamming the door behind him as he entered his apartment, George was in a strange mood. iDoc had invaded his world without his even having been aware of it. And it was an idea he had supplied to one of its creators! He wasnât sure if he was depressed or just pissed off about the whole thing. The distinction
The ground-floor units of the complex had small fenced-in patios facing the pool. George estimated that the rickety fences hadnât seen a coat of paint in at least ten years. George occupied a one-bedroom unit, as did Sal. Salâs apartment was just to the left of Georgeâs, and on the other side a wannabe actor slash waiter. His name was Joe. George didnât know the last name, and he didnât want to.
The actorâs apartment, like Salâs, was the mirror image of Georgeâs but, unfortunately for George, their bedrooms shared a shoddily constructed common wall without insulation. Consequently, George already knew quite a bit about the actor, since he could hear the manâs conversations as clearly as if he were in Georgeâs apartment. Joe worked at a nearby Beverly Hills restaurant and had lots of one-nighters that he picked up at the dive bars on Sunset over in West Hollywood. These sexual escapades often woke George up. A few times, desperate to get back to sleep, George pounded on the common wall, but it had never done any good. It was apparent that Joeâs attitude toward women was not all that different from Claytonâs.
Since George had so many nights that required him to stay in the hospital on call, heâd tolerated the Joe the Actor issue, but now that he was about to begin his final year of residency, which had no scheduled night call, he knew he was going to have to do something.
George skirted the pool, glancing over at two inked-up twenty-something girls floating on rafts. They lived in one of the upstairs units. They were drinking PBR beers from tallboy cans and didnât acknowledge George as he passed. He assumed his lack of body art combined with his somewhat combed hair was a factor.
Rounding a sad-looking palm tree, George started toward his door. Besides Sal, George was friendly with only one other tenant. His name was Zee, and George really didnât know him all that well. He wasnât even sure if Zee was his real name or not. He was in his mid-twenties and used to work for a computer gaming company. He had gotten laid off when a major new product bombed upon its release. According to Zee, he had nothing to do with that particular product, but since he was the low man on the totem pole, he was one of the employees who got their walking papers. Now he supported himself playing poker on the Internet, a career choice George never knew existed until Zee gave him the 411 on it.
George knew Zee to be incredibly computer savvy and capable of fixing anything and everything associated with hardware and software. That talent had come in handy on occasion. Zee had helped George with a number of iPad and iPhone issues. George was also aware that Zee was an accomplished hacker since he had regaled George with hacking stories while fixing whatever computer device wasnât working. It seemed to George that Zee hacked secure sites just for the fun of it. Zee bragged that he could hack into anything.
Slamming the door behind him as he entered his apartment, George was in a strange mood. iDoc had invaded his world without his even having been aware of it. And it was an idea he had supplied to one of its creators! He wasnât sure if he was depressed or just pissed off about the whole thing. The distinction
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