The man who answered the door was angry, ugly, fat and as drunk as she was.
"What the hell are you doing? Trying to break down my door? It's the middle of the fucking night!" he barked.
"Are you... the doctor?" Jill asked him dubiously.
"Not anymore," he snarled. "Bastards! Sonofabitch bastards!"
"Look, I'm here to get some work done. I was told you were the man for the job."
"Work?" he peered at her closer. "Work?"
"Here," she shoved the envelope to him. "It's in there."
Looking at her suspiciously he tore open the envelope, fishing out the two-hundred dollars she'd previously withdrawn and a note.
"This isn't enough," he said more calmly, after reading the note.
"I, uh, I was told there's a payment plan?" she asked nervously.
The man's meaty lips curled, showing off sharp yellow teeth. His small eyes looked her up and down in a way that she once would have smacked him for. "That's a lot of payments," he said, licking his lips.
"I'm good for it," she told him, straightening.
"I bet you are," he winked. "Well, come on in. I'll just get a few things ready. Take a seat."
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