Amanda held her hand up. "Come on, I won't bite, even though they say I do."

Julie grinned, and went to her. Took her hand. "h.e.l.lo, Amanda."

Amanda squeezed her hand a little too tightly, and Julie felt intense heat in the palm of her hand. "Aren't you just the picture picture of delicious? You got b.a.l.l.s coming here, Mrs. Hutchinson Number Two. Big hairy b.a.l.l.s." She said it in a southern sing-song voice, like she was the mistress of some great plantation. of delicious? You got b.a.l.l.s coming here, Mrs. Hutchinson Number Two. Big hairy b.a.l.l.s." She said it in a southern sing-song voice, like she was the mistress of some great plantation.

"Call me Julie. Please."

"I like calling you Number Two Wife. I'm Wife Number One. Mother to the heir apparent. You're just second in the harem." She let go of Julie's hand, finally. Julie noticed that there were faint scars on Amanda's hands, as if a cat had scratched her up.

Amanda rubbed one hand over the other, unselfconsciously. She seemed to enjoy the attention. "Tell me, sweet thing, you have any contraband?" She said "contraband" like it had seven syllables, the honeyed southern thing growing a bit old for Julie. It felt like an act.

Julie tried to keep the slight smile plastered on her face, but it was getting difficult.

"I just mean cigarettes, dear gaw-ad gaw-ad," Amanda said, "you look like you thought I was asking for cocaine or something."

"Want me to go get you some?"

Amanda's eyes twinkled. "He must've loved hearing you ask 'How high?' whenever he asked you to jump." She motioned toward a wooden chair in a corner. "Pull that thing over. Just throw all the magazines off."

After Julie scooted the chair closer to Amanda's, she sat down and hesitated before saying, "I'm really glad you agreed to see me."

"Why wouldn't I? I have nothing to fear now. I'm dispatched like a Queen to the tow-uh tow-uh. Look at all this," she laughed, pointing to the TV set on the wall, and narrow bed. "I suppose I'll be here until the day I die. I'll be moved downstairs where the little old ladies push their walkers around and talk about how life turned out awful for them. But it's better than being out there, out where the wild things roam."

"You're not in here against your will," Julie said.

Amanda Hutchinson smiled, broadly. She looked down to Julie's feet, then up her legs, her hips, her waist, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, settling on her face. Julie remembered something that Hut had told her, about Amanda's ambiguity. She had always thought he'd meant something to do with her indecisiveness, but now wondered if he hadn't meant that she was bis.e.xual. She certainly seemed to be checking her out the way crude men sometimes had in the past.

"I completely volunteered for this, believe me." Amanda turned, and looked out the window: through the bars, the beautiful lawn and the neat rows of boxwoods around a central stone fountain. A bitterness entered her voice. "I have been diagnosed, my dear. It's a diagnosis that keeps me safe in the Tower, away from the dreaded Executioner. I wonder if Anne Boleyn longed for the sword to the neck by the time she'd lived in the Tower long enough? I don't. I don't want my head to roll. I keep that one awful thing alive. That one terrible thing. Hope. Hope that maybe I'm insane and all these meds will help me. That these Tower walls will keep me safe."

Then, she shot a sharp glance back at Julie. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Wife Number Two?"

"I thought maybe there'd be pieces of Hut's life that you...well, that we could discuss."

"How's my son?"

"He's doing good."

Amanda gave her that cat-like look, as if she were playing with her. "I'm surprised."

"He's a...a wonderful boy."

"That's more of a surprise. I haven't seen him since he was six. He was a pretty little boy. But he's dead to me, isn't he? Does he ask about me?"

"Sometimes."

Amanda laughed, full-throated, with something malevolent in the sound. It made Julie nervous. "I bet it's not good when he does. I bet he gets violent. I bet he curses my name. As well he should. I'm a monstrous mother." She said this last part as if it was of no consequence. "He's a little brain-damaged boy." She watched Julie for a reaction. "I dropped him on his head when he was a baby. I suppose that's what Hut told you. I beat him until he just got to be damaged goods."

Julie was ready. She reined in her reaction. Don't give her ammo. Don't give her ammo. Julie fingered the edge of her chair. She looked at her own hands. At the ring on her left hand. Julie fingered the edge of her chair. She looked at her own hands. At the ring on her left hand. Do not react to her poison. That's what Hut had called it. Her poison. Do not react to her poison. That's what Hut had called it. Her poison.

"You knew Hut when he was young," Julie said, slowly.

"We were kids. It was the last good time of my life. Under the age of twenty. After twenty, it was all downhill for me. Nervous breakdown city. Hallucinations. Seeing...ghosts." Amanda grinned wickedly. "But I don't want to bother your pretty little face with any of that. So, now that he's dead, you want to know about him? Why's that, Wife Numbah Two? Because when he was alive, maybe you never knew him at all? That doesn't surprise me, either. Nothing surprises me. You think he didn't pick you out of a line-up of possibles. He did. I know him. I've known him since he was younger than Matt. You know, he's still with us. He may be in the back seat of your car right now, for all I know. Just waiting to surprise you."

"I don't find this funny at all. This kind of talk."

"Sensitive pretty little Wife Number Two. All right, fair enough. You want to know what Hut was like? I knew him before he was adopted out. I knew him when he was a bad bad little boy. Worse than Matt, and you think Matt's bad."

"Matt is an angel," Julie said, feeling defensive.

"You're good. You're really good, Wife Number Two. You can lie with the same look in your eyes as when you tell the truth. My foster mother used to call it the clear blue eyes of a born liar. They say it takes a criminal mind to do that well."

They both were quiet after this for several minutes. Amanda Hutchinson glanced around the room as if she were taking mental photographs of the moment.

Then Amanda broke the silence. "Did he ever tell you about when we were children?"

"Only a little," Julie said. Then she added, "You were in a school together?"

Amanda kept a Cheshire cat grin on her face. "The drugs I get here stunt me a little. In the brain. They turn off things that hurt, and they seem to turn on the warm fuzzies. But I can't get used to it. Not being able to figure things out, the way I used to. Like why you're really here. It's not about my son, it's not about Hut. It's about something else, only the warm fuzzies have taken over my brain and I can't quite pinpoint it. You're pretending it's about remembering Hut in all his glory, the doctor to the poor, the wonderful man who gave you a daughter and me a son. But you want something from me. What is it? Let's just get this over with. Fish or cut bait, as they say."

"I'm not really sure why I'm here."

Amanda gave a low growl of a chuckle. "It's because your poor pathetic little life is a big fat lie, Number Two Wife. It's because he never let you in on his secret. His deep dark wound of a secret that would destroy you if you knew it. And I can't even tell you about it. Even if I wanted to. Even if I dreamed of doing it. The warm fuzzies have me. You found out about Rosetta Street, didn't you? That's why you're here. You found out about 66S. You are so warm, Wife Number Two. Warm and getting warmer. But you get too warm, you burst into flames. I did. I got too warm. I got too hot. I burned up there, in 66S. I dream about it now, it's a nightmare from h.e.l.l, but I dream about it, and what happened, and you want to know why a mother hates her own son, Wife Number Two? Why my little baby Matthew is dead to me? Just go ask them. Ask 66S. You can get burned, too. Or if you're smart, if you're a genius, you will walk out of this room, and go home and pick your daughter up and get as far away from 66S as you can, before it happens to you, too. Because eventually, we all burn, Julie. All of us. We burn eternally."

"I'm sorry," Julie said.

"Do you believe in heaven? Do you? Or h.e.l.l? Or anything?"

"Maybe."

"You should. There's something else out there. Something beyond this life. Something that's worse than dying. Worse than suffering. Worse than the worst torture of being alive." Her voice grew into an undertow of a growling sensuality, and Julie felt as if she were being hypnotized by it. "It's not beautiful heaven. It's not even beautiful h.e.l.l. It's a thousand times more terrifying than anything you can dream up in your feeble nightmares. The apartment on Rosetta Street is a burning place, Julie Hutchinson, Wife Number Two, it is a torture chamber, and you will find yourself on fire if you ever go there."

"I've been there," Julie said.

Amanda looked at her, as if just seeing her for the first time. Her eyes widened, and the smile crept up wider than before. She had a full toothy grin, and her face seemed to gleam as if it excited her to hear this.

"It's a place of impossibilities. And burning. If you'd really been there-really been in 66S...we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"There was nothing there."

"Oh. There was something something. You just didn't look hard enough."

Julie briefly closed her eyes. Remembering the blurred gray face of the man in the bedroom doorway.

"Open your eyes," Amanda said. "You were were there. You saw something. Only you left. Fast. Fast as your pretty legs could carry you." there. You saw something. Only you left. Fast. Fast as your pretty legs could carry you."

Amanda Hutchinson went silent, and looked down at her hands, wiping them against each other as if washing them clean.

When Amanda Hutchinson spoke again, it was in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Julie said. "What?"

Amanda whispered again. Something playful in the curve of her lips, in the way her eyes flashed.

Julie smiled back, almost involuntarily.

Something about the way Amanda leaned forward made Julie get up and lean closer in to her.

Julie tried to make out the words forming silently on Amanda's lips. Something in her went cold-something about being so close to Hut's first wife-and yet she felt nothing but heat emanating from her.

"He's trying to contact you. They do that, you know. After they're gone. They try to. That's why you're here. You want to know. But I can't tell you. The warm fuzzies have me, they have me, have me, have me," Amanda said, softly, so softly that Julie could barely hear her. "You want to know who lives in Apartment 66S?" Amanda reached over to touch a strand of Julie's hair-Julie gasped for a second, her nerves tingling- Amanda then gently placed the strand of hair back behind Julie's ear like it was a flower. Her touch, almost s.e.xual. Almost threatening.

Julie felt something at the center of her being, no, lower, something that was like a gentle tickling, from the inside. Her breathing slowed.

She smelled a musky scent from Amanda. Musk and something sweet.

Amanda's breath-warm and sweet.

"Pretty Number Two Wife. So beautiful. So sad. So wanting."

Julie looked into her eyes. Amanda's eyes seemed endless to her-deep pools of darkness.

"66S," Amanda whispered, letting it become a hiss.

Then, Amanda leapt toward her, and for just a second, Julie felt as if she were watching some wild animal, sprung loose from its cage.

4.

Julie's chair went backward, and her legs went in the air. Amanda Hutchinson was on top of her, swinging her fist down for the side of her head.

Once hit, Julie felt as if she were losing consciousness, and wasn't sure, but felt a strange warmth-as if Amanda's hand were now going down between her legs, down to touch her, beneath her skirt, the edge of her panties.

Amanda's urgent whisper in her ear, "Does he come to you at night and touch you, only it's better than he ever did before? Does he make you moan, Wife Numbah Two? Does he try to get inside you?" "Does he come to you at night and touch you, only it's better than he ever did before? Does he make you moan, Wife Numbah Two? Does he try to get inside you?"

Julie took a deep breath, and brought her knee up, knocking her attacker in the arm, pushing her hand away.

The fingers had just grazed the skin beneath her panties.

Then, an orderly was running in the room shouting, "Mandy! Get off her right now! Holy s.h.i.t, Jimmy, get down here!"

5.

"Ms. Kaufmann? Gigi?" Julie asked, nearly out of breath, tapping at the door of the social worker's office.

The social worker came to the door, opening it a crack. "Yes?" Large steel blue eyes behind thick gla.s.ses. "Mrs. Hutchinson? My G.o.d!"

"I think...I think she's upset. Something's wrong."

The social worker looked at her. "My G.o.d. Are you all right?"

The screeching could be heard down the corridor.

"I'm fine." Julie wasn't sure if this was true.

"Your face."

"It's all right. Please. She needs help now."

6.

After Amanda had been subdued, Julie stood just outside the doorway to her room. She briefly glanced inside. The orderlies had not yet righted the overturned chairs. They had just finished tying her in restraints to the edges of the mattress. Although she'd been given a shot of some kind of sedative, Amanda continued to struggle in the restraints. One of the staff nurses bandaged her fingers where the nails had torn.

The social worker touched Julie's arm. "She'll sleep now. It's all right. Sometimes there are flare-ups. Let's get you down to the nursing wing to look at those cuts."

7.

"She jumped me," Julie said, as a young male nurse daubed a Q-tip soaked in hydrogen peroxide on the slight cuts on her arm.

The nurse grinned. "You're lucky. She took someone's eye out last winter."

"My G.o.d."

"It happens now and then. Mandy is docile as a lamb for eleven months of the year, and then one day- or night-snaps. Sorry for the gallows humor. I know it can be pretty scary. She went Lizzie Borden on me once, too. Right after I started."

"I just didn't expect it," Julie said. "We were...well, I hope I didn't do something to provoke her."