Rick didn't have very many guests. When he had work to do he used the desk at one end of the living room. This room was almost empty. It was the portion of the apartment that got the most sun, so it had the most windows: fine stained glass ones that were now dark. The floor, instead of being bare hardwood, was covered with thick grayish padding about an inch thick. A freestanding punching bag weighted down with a tank of water and marked with numbered circles for striking stood at one end. There was a metal locker in one corner, taller than she, firmly locked.
After about ten minutes of various clattering dishes and water running, Patsy Cline started singing about sweet dreams from the living room. An hour later, he knocked on the door.