Hooked by Michael Harris, Ruth Harris Page B

own?’” Adriana replied. “You’ve devoted the last two months to get me to say yes. You’ve cajoled and manipulated and threatened me with another woman. And why? Because you’re a fame whore and my celebrity is an ego trip for you—”
    “I never noticed you pushing away a photographer or turning down an interview—”
    “Just stop being a hypocrite,” Adriana said. “All I’m asking is for you to put it in writing—”
    There was no point in prolonging the argument. “I’ll have my lawyers draw up the papers,” Nicky said.
    “And I’ll have my lawyers check them out—”
    Adriana had gotten what she wanted and Nicky turned his attention to more practical matters. “When will you be ready to start the tour?”
    “I’ll let you know tomorrow after I see Dr. Jenkins—”
    Adriana was unwilling to return to his office and so Nicky arranged to have Dr. Jenkins treat her at home.
    “When can I schedule the first concert?” she asked. Once she had made her decision to go ahead with the comeback, she accepted the doctor and his injections as necessary.
    “A year,” Gavin said. “Medically speaking, of course. Musically, you’ll have to decide yourself—”
    “I can be ready in a year—”
    “I’ll want to see you three times a week,” Gavin said. “After a while we can cut it down to twice and then eventually once a week. Right before the first concert, I’ll want to see you every day again—”
    “That seems like a lot—”
    “Not if you want to perform,” Gavin said. “You’ll have to follow a schedule. And you can’t walk out on me the way you did last time—”
    “I won’t—”
    “You need me,” Gavin reminded her. “And you’re going to use me—”
    “And you’ll use me, too,” she said. “I have no doubt of that.”
    “How?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. “Not yet. But I’ll tell you when I do—”
    “You don’t have to like me,” he said. “Not everyone does—”
    He prepared the two injections — the goldsalts into the back of the neck and the mixture of amphetamine and vitamins into the left arm. He took her arm and he could feel her draw away as if the touch of his hand were unpleasant to her. Slowly he emptied the fluid into her veins and in a few seconds she stopped fighting him.
    “It will be easier as the treatment progresses,” Gavin said, as he withdrew the needle.
    “I know,” said Adriana. “That’s what I’m afraid of—”
    That evening Gavin told Cleo about his conversation with Adriana Partos and thought she might have some comment to make. He was surprised by her silence.
    Cleo was thinking about Adriana’s remark that Gavin was going to use her. Adriana was right and Cleo knew why. Adriana Partos was the person Cleo had been waiting for — the patient who would enable her to make her husband the most famous doctor in America.

26
    Over lunch with her old friend Arthur Congden, associate editor of
Image
magazine, Cleo mentioned Adriana’s tour.
    “But she’s retired, isn’t she?” asked Arthur.
    “She was,” said Cleo.
    “I heard she couldn’t play any more,” said Arthur. “Arthritis—”
    “She
had
arthritis,” said Cleo, “but Gavin’s been treating her and the condition has disappeared.”
    She told Arthur how many hours a day Adriana was practicing in the studio across from Carnegie Hall. She named the cities where Adriana would be performing and she even named the pieces in her repertoire.
    Arthur couldn’t conceal his excitement. Adriana Partos was one of the few authentic superstars of the last twenty-five years but hadn’t been heard on a public stage for almost a decade. Arthur confirmed Cleo’s leak in a telephone conversation with Adriana herself.
    Assured of the accuracy of Cleo’s information, Arthur ran the story announcing the comeback tour. In it, the magazine named Dr. Gavin Jenkins as the miracle doctor who was making it possible.
    Cleo was so pleased by her success that she called the