[Adam claimed he was working and that wasn't too far fetched. Bootleggers and gangsters needed a doctor who knew what he was doing and could keep his mouth shut. Compared to most of the people in New York? Dr. Waterhouse was practically a mute. But, he loved these parties. He loved watching girls of beads and color spin around in a liberation. They let him touch more because it meant they were different from their mothers. They let him watch because it gave them a false sense of power. Beyond the nameless women, he loved the fizzy drinks, the ancient drugs and the brassy music. Adam sat with a smile on his face, loopy and lubricated with a few drinks too many. Dressed in a black tux like most men there, he slouched forward on a bar that overlooked the pool that people were dancing around and splashing their feet in. He wondered how long it would take the inevitable push of some poor drunk girl into the water and the stampede of drunks to follow her in.
He drank. He smoked. He forgot about that girl who wasn't his and a woman he never really intended on marrying back home.
If anyone asked other party go-ers about Adam, they wouldn't get much information beyond the fact that he was a
very good doctor. Some women would make jokes about his bedside manner. Adam had let plenty of these women sloppily kiss him between their drinks. He pretended to listen while they complained about their
fellas. Adam had even let a few women lead him upstairs for a good time. Because good times were all the doctor was interested in these days.]
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