Secret Identity, Part 5

    This fictional account contains adult language and themes. If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by
SSTORYMAN. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story
in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no
financial remuneration is received, directly or indirectly, by the person
reproducing it.

    SECRET IDENTITY

    5. The Tribulation.

    It was a few minutes after eight when Claire reached the office. On her
way from the hospital, she smoked a cigarette and enjoyed it immensely. It was
risky, but she used breath mints to provide cover from the smell of cigarette
smoke on her breath.

    "Good morning, Claire," Katy the receptionist greeted as she walked in.
"Roger Cummins wants to see you in his office as soon as you arrive."

    Shit, thought Claire. "Okay," she said aloud. "What's it about?"

    "I don't know," Katy smiled. Something about her smile was insincere,
almost like a smirk. "He says it's important."

    Claire knocked on Roger's office door. It swung open.

    "Come in, Claire. Please shut the door behind you," he said from behind
his desk. His manner was notably businesslike.

    Oh, shit, she thought. He wants to talk about Ronald Dawson's death.

    "Look, Roger," she began. "I carefully reviewed our file and the chart
from the hospital ER. I also talked to the ER physician. I wish Katy had asked
a few more questions when Mr. Dawson called in last week. But I really don't
think ..."

    "I don't want to talk about Dawson," Roger snapped. "You didn't do
anything wrong. I talked to the people at the ER myself."

    "Oh. What's up, then?" 

    "Claire, I like you personally. You know that. But I understand from
reliable sources that you've started smoking cigarettes. Is that correct?"

    Claire was astonished. How did he know? Perhaps someone recognized her at
their favorite bar and saw her smoking there. No, that couldn't be. It was
dark in there and she always wore her contacts with her hair down. Her mind
focused on yesterday afternoon's incident at the hospital. Did Roger know
about that? She couldn't imagine how. After all, Amanda would never tell.
Neither would Robin. She instinctively knew her fellow smokers wouldn't betray
her. There was no one else on the patio while she and Amanda smoked. How could
he know about that incident?

    It didn't matter, she decided. She considered lying, but what good would
it do? If he had evidence, or an eyewitness, she'd be worse than a fool to
deny the truth.

    She sighed. "I do occasionally smoke cigarettes," she said slowly and
deliberately. "That's true. Is that a problem?"

    "It's a goddamn huge problem, Claire. You know it as well as I do." Anger
crept into his voice.

    "Why?" she asked innocently.

    "Because we're family practice doctors, for Christ's sake. Everyday we
tell our patients they should quit smoking. You've seen the sign in the
waiting room!"

    Claire nodded. The sign Roger referred to was a small one. It showed
cartoon characters dressed as doctors and nurses. Each one had a cigarette in
his or her hand, but each character also had small criss-crossed bandaids
covering their mouths. The "no smoking" emblem was prominently featured. The
sign read: "We practice what we preach - No smoking."

    "Yeah, I know the sign. So what?"

    "Claire, let me cut to the chase. I will not permit a doctor in this
office to smoke cigarettes. It's hypocritical, it's unhealthy, and it's bad
public relations. We have an office policy against smoking and against hiring
smokers. You know that!" He looked at the floor. "I'm giving you an
opportunity to resign. I've prepared a letter of resignation, effective
immediately."

    Claire couldn't believe her ears. "Who told you about my smoking?" she
sputtered. "I deserve to know!"

    "Dr. Andrew Winters is a good friend of mine," Roger smiled. "Your friend
Amanda Stevens is no friend of Andy's. Do you remember the damning testimony
Ms. Stevens provided against him in that malpractice case a year ago?"

    "Yeah, I do. But Amanda only told the truth. She told them Dr. Winters
tried to cover up his own malpractice. He fuckin' did it to himself."

    "That's one interpretation," Roger acknowledged. "Well, Andy Winters is
not very happy with Ms. Stevens and Ms. O'Malley. He has people at the
hospital who keep their eyes on both Amanda Stevens and Robin O'Malley. They
watch them every day. I'll be honest. He's collecting damning information for
the ultimate purpose of getting their asses fired." He smiled serenely. "Every
day they time their nicotine breaks with a stop-watch. Coincidentally, one of
Andy Winters' moles saw you smoking with Amanda yesterday. Two cigarettes, I
understand? You must have been desperate." The irony in his voice was
sickening. "By the way, I've even got pictures."

    Claire was dumfounded. What an asshole! God, what a pair of absolute
assholes!

    She stared at him defiantly. "I won't resign," she announced. "You'll have
to fire me."

    "Fine," Roger smiled. "You're fired. Clean out your desk." Ignoring her,
he turned back to the paperwork on his writing desk.

    "Hey, wait a minute," Claire objected. "Is this really such a big deal? I
don't deny that I smoke cigarettes from time to time. But Roger, we need more
help, not less. That's why we just hired Karen Adams after she finished her
residency."

    "Yes. Thank God for Dr. Adams," Roger said gravely. "Without her on board,
letting you go would hamstring our practice. But she's already fitting in
nicely." He looked over his bifocals. "We'll find a replacement for you,
Claire. I'm sorry it didn't work out. Truly sorry."

    Claire didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. Keeping her mouth
shut was probably the smartest thing. As she walked out, she mumbled under her
breath. "Fuck you."

    Roger looked up. He smiled again. "You didn't fuck me, my dear. I just
fucked you."


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    Claire's head was spinning. She'd never been fired. She couldn't fuckin'
believe it! She wasn't going to clean out her desk 'til she'd figured what
recourse she might have. Could they actually fire her for smoking? She needed
to talk to a lawyer.

    Without comment she walked past the reception area and out the front door.
Katy the receptionist said nothing as she left. Claire remembered Katy's
half-assed smile when she came in this morning. Then she realized: Katy knew.
Roger must have told her first thing. God, everyone at the office probably
knew by now. Shit!

    Walking hurriedly down the steps to the parking lot, Claire opened the
door of her Lexus and got in, shutting it behind her. She took a deep breath.
Part of her wanted to cry. Another part of her wanted to scream. She sighed
again. There was only one thing that was clear. It was something every part of
her body and soul agreed upon. It was simple. She needed a cigarette!

    Instinctively Claire knew she'd be able to think if she just had smoke in
her lungs. Her body cried out for nicotine's calming effect. She fumbled with
her purse, finally retrieving an open pack of Marlboro Lights 100's from the
zippered side pocket. She put a cigarette in her mouth and searched for her
lighter. Finding it at last, she eagerly clicked the button and held the flame
against the end of the cigarette. The tobacco tip crackled and the Marlboro
came to life.

    The relief was immediate. She took a hard, first drag and eagerly sucked
the smoke into her hungry lungs. Without waiting, she puffed a second time,
and then a third. Each hit was followed by another fast inhale. A small smile
at last covered her face, while the cigarette continued to rest in the corner
of her mouth. God, that was better! 

    The car's interior quickly filled with ambient smoke, but Claire declined
to roll down her window. No, she preferred to be engulfed in the haze! She
wanted the smoke to permeate her being. Ashes fell from the rapidly burning
cigarette and dropped onto her lap. She ignored them. Instead, she puffed
again. Glorious! And again. Oh, so satisfying!

    With the cigarette still dangling from her lips, she turned the key and
started the car. She noticed several people in the parking lot staring at her.
Let 'em watch! She didn't fuckin' care anymore. If she was a smoker, and she
certainly was, then she was going to act like one. 

    She drove into traffic, not sure where she was going. It didn't matter.
The only thing she wanted was to smoke. The more she smoked, the better she
felt. She chained into a second cigarette. She still didn't feel satiated. In
fact, she was barely beginning to get enough.

    She drove aimlessly. She was smoking her third consecutive cigarette
before she finally remembered Tim's business card in her wallet. Pulling it
out, she picked up her cellular phone and dialed his work number.

    "Law offices," the voice intoned. "How may I direct your call?"

    "Tim Roberts, please," she said quietly. There was a brief wait.

    "This is Tim Roberts. How may I help you?"

    "Tim, this is Claire," she gasped. She felt better, but hearing his voice
made her anger and hurt flare up again within her breast. She took another
quick drag on her cigarette, desperately trying to beat back a rising feeling
of panic and despair.

    "Claire, are you smoking?" Tim asked incredulously. He recognized the
sound of puffing and exhaling.

    "Yes, I am," she said, spitting smoke with her words. "I just got fired. I
need to talk to a goddamn lawyer. You're the only one I know. Can I come to
your office?"

    "Uh, sure," Tim said hesitantly. "I'll have my secretary cancel my other
appointments for the morning. Definitely. Come right over."


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    It was eleven o'clock. Claire and Tim sat in a restaurant. It was another
Denny's. Claire was calmer now. But the ashtray on the table in front of her
explained why. It was full of butts. She'd had ten cigarettes in the last two
hours. Tim never even tried to match her frantic pace.

    He smiled. "You do look different with those glasses and your hair pulled
back, with your white doctor coat," he observed. "Honestly, I'd hardly
recognize you. This secret identity of yours works better than you'd think.
You look like a different person." He paused. "Except your smoking style is
exactly the same as the other Claire Davis," he added with a grin.

    Claire smiled back. "Yeah, but it's funny, isn't it?" she observed.
"Little things make a big difference. But that's over. There's no more need to
keep my identities separate. I've lost my job because of smoking, and
everybody will know that Claire Davis smokes. But you know what? In some ways,
I don't care!"

    She reached for the pack on the table and lit up yet another cigarette.
She was smoking at a record-setting pace. She had two with her morning coffee,
another driving to the office from the hospital, three in the car after
getting fired, and now another ten sitting her in the restaurant drinking
coffee with Tim. It still wasn't lunch time, and this was her seventeenth of
the day!

    "Well, you've heard the story," she said wryly, exhaling a fresh cloud of
smoke into the already hazy air suspended over their table. "What do you think
I should do?"

    Tim cleared his throat. "Here's the way I see it," he began. "But
remember, I'm not a labor lawyer."

    "I understand," she sighed. She held the cigarette between her fingers and
cocked her wrist. "But what would you do if you were me?"

    "The first thing is that as far as we know there is no written office
policy prohibiting employees in Cummins' office from smoking on their own
time. Therefore, I don't think he can fire you for smoking. Of course, he'll
just argue that you have no employment agreement and he can fire you for any
reason or for no reason. That's not his big problem. The real issues for him
are your sexual harassment claims. Based on what you told me, I think they're
a sure winner."

    Claire took a prolonged, sumptuous drag. She was now smoking slowly and
luxuriously. No longer did she show the frantic affectation of earlier in the
morning. She inhaled and tipped her head, directing a stream of smoke straight
up. "Why? Are you sure?" she asked.

    Tim nodded. "Cummins made a pass at you yesterday. He asked you for sex.
It was flagrant. He touched you. But you turned him down flat. Right?"

    "That's right," Claire agreed. 

    "And one of the nurses actually saw him touching you, when she interrupted
to tell you about Dawson at the ER? Right?"

    "Right again."

    "Okay. Think about it. You refused his sexual advance, and coincidentally
he fired you the next day. I suspect any jury will believe that's cause and
effect, especially because his 'no smoking for doctors' policy is not written
down anywhere."

    "And don't forget," she added. "I know people who'll testify that Cummins
smokes cigars with his buddies occasionally. So do a couple of the other
doctors in the office. Doesn't their own incidental cigar smoking make this a
double standard? Isn't that a problem?"

    Tim nodded. "It's a big problem. If Cummins selectively applies this
supposed no-smoking criteria, disciplining or discharging only female
employees who refuse his sexual advances, he's up shit creek. That's wrongful
termination and sexual harassment. Plus, this isn't the first time he put the
moves on an employee. There's a history of bad conduct. I think he'll lose
big."

    Claire smiled. This sounded good. She wanted nothing more than to hurt the
dirty bastard, and hurt him bad. "Can I get my job back?"

    "No. Courts penalize employers who harass employees or treat them
unfairly. But even if you win, the most you get is money damages. You won't
get your job back. However, the money damages could be substantial." He took a
deep breath. "You need a lawyer who handles these claims. I only do workers
comp. I'm not your guy. Besides, you need someone objective." He smiled and
took hold of her hand. "My feelings might get in the way," he added gently,
stroking her slender fingers.

    While holding her hand, he removed the cigarette from her fingers and
lifted to his own lips. He took a slow drag and returned it. "Thanks," he
grinned, exhaling a cloud of smoke of his own. "I have the perfect lawyer for
you, too."

    "Who is it?"

    "Her name's Renee Williams. She's with a firm called Johnson & Myers.
You'd like her. Renee smokes. In fact, everyone in that firm smokes. Perhaps
you've heard of them."

    "No," Claire said. But her curiosity was aroused. "Should I know who they
are?"

    "The firm was founded by lawyers from several big firms in town who
rebelled against no-smoking policies in those old line firms. The lawyers at
Johnson & Myers all smoke. I've known Renee for a few years. She's a good
lawyer. You'd like her. She'd do a good job with the case."

    Claire tapped more ashes into the ashtray. "I do like the fact that she
smokes," she admitted with a devious smile. "So, let me get this straight. You
think I should hire this Renee Williams person to sue Dr. Cummins and his
medical practice for wrongful termination and sexual harassment? And you think
I'll win?"

    "You should talk to Renee," he hedged. "But I'm betting she'll say the
case is a winner."

    Claire sighed as she stubbed out her cigarette. "That's great," she said,
exhaling another mouthful of smoke. "But what am I going to do about a job?
I've got some savings, but I can't live on savings forever. Roger Cummins will
make sure no one in private medical practice in this town will even talk to
me. I'm screwed, unless I quit smoking. And I'm not quitting!."

    "Have you thought about taking a government job?" Tim asked.

    "What do you mean?

    "The Workers Compensation Bureau has doctors on staff. It's not as
prestigious as your internal medicine practice, but you're certainly
qualified. Probably over-qualified. There are several positions open right
now. I know the key people at the Bureau. I can get you an interview if you
want. You'd probably get hired right away."

    "I don't know," Claire equivocated. "Unless I miss my guess, it's a job
full of bureaucratic bullshit, you know, reviewing injured workers' files and
making recommendations. The people those doctors see aren't really their
patients. Plus, those positions don't pay very well, compared to what I
make."

    "That's true," Tim admitted with a smile. "But what about the work
schedule? You can't beat it! Every night you go home at five thirty. You're
never on call. You get every weekend and holiday off. And the state has tons
more holidays than the private sector. You'd have time for a life, Claire. You
could party every night if wanted."

    Mindlessly, Claire again reached for her cigarettes. Placing another in
her mouth, she lit up one more time. "That's true," she muttered, exhaling a
small cloud of smoke from around the dangling cigarette. "It's starting to
sound more attractive." She took a longer drag and smiled. "Keep talking."

    "How about this? No one at the Bureau will ever give a damn if you smoke.
Believe me, I know. Lots of my friends at the Bureau smoke. It's a state
building, so technically there's no smoking anywhere on the premises. But
there's a loading dock at the back of the building where the smokers gather
during their breaks. Even the Director smokes. She's quietly made sure that
smokers who work there aren't mistreated. It's the most smoker-friendly state
agency I know. Does that sound good?"

    "God," Claire mused, looking into space. "That sounds fuckin' great. Still
being a doctor, but taking breaks with other smokers at work? Shit! That
sounds too good to be true. God, the evil Claire would be totally in charge of
my life at that point!" She giggled. "No more need for a secret identity."

    "Let me make a phone call," Tim suggested. He watched Claire happily pull
more smoke into her lungs and lavishly exhale through her nostrils. "Put your
resume together tonight. I'll probably have an interview ready for you by
tomorrow."

    "Thanks, Tim," Claire smiled sweetly, still exhaling bits of blue smoke
from her nose and mouth. "How can I make this up to you?"

    He flashed a wicked grin. "I'll think of something," he announced in a
nasty tone of voice. "I've always wanted a woman to smoke and make love to me
at the same time. Does that sound too kinky?"

    Claire grinned. She took an interminable drag on her cigarette and, upon
removing it, briefly opened her mouth to reveal a massive ball of smoke. After
hanging for two seconds, it disappeared quickly down into her lungs. She
smiled. "That would be great. It sounds wickedly fun.." She turned and gave
him a perfect profile of a splendid mixed nose and mouth exhale. She gave him
a wanton stare. "I'm smoking a lot more now, you know. I guess I'll start
smoking in bed, too."

    Tim smiled. Perhaps he'd have his secretary cancel his afternoon
appointments.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Claire sat at her computer typing her resume. Long ago the extra bedroom
in her apartment changed into an office. She rarely used it, but she liked
having an area set aside for paper work.

    On the table beside her sat a large, new, cut-glass ashtray. After coming
home from Tim's this afternoon, she stopped at the store to buy some needed
supplies. She bought a carton of cigarettes and a half dozen disposable
lighters. The purchase gave her quite a rush! It seemed particularly
degenerate to buy cigarettes by the carton. It was a clear demonstration that
she was a real smoker. Her other purchases included ashtrays for every room in
her house. After all, she told herself, if I'm going to be a real smoker, I
need more than one ashtray.

    She tapped some ashes into the ashtray. It was good-looking. She smiled.
She'd been tempted to search for a store that sold expensive, customized
lighters. Seeing Amanda's yesterday impressed her. It was not a disposable
lighter, but a stylish, gold and expensive-looking one. She also liked
Amanda's cigarette case. Amanda looked like a smoker. Claire wanted a fancy
case, too. She sighed. Eventually she'd acquire those accouterments. Appearing
like a serious, seasoned smoker would soon be part of her own everyday look.

    She glanced at the clock. She been thinking about calling her sister.
There was still time before the business day ended in Chicago. "I'm going to
call Liz at her office," she decided, picking up her cigarettes and moving
into the kitchen where she sat down by the phone. Another new ashtray awaited
her by the phone. She was so pleased. She felt happy seeing ashtrays
everywhere throughout the apartment. Before long, she'd fill them up, too!

    She looked up Liz's number in her book. She wanted to discuss recent
events with Liz. They hadn't talked since the fateful discussion at breakfast
several weeks ago. Since then, much had happened.

    When she called Liz at work, she usually got voice mail. Accountants were
often out of the office. To her surprise, however, this time her sister picked
up the phone on the first ring.

    "This is Liz Davis. How may I help you?"

    "This is your sister, Liz. How are you doing?"

    "Holy shit, Claire," Liz exclaimed. "I've been meaning to call you. I'm
glad you called first. Hey, I just finished a project, so I've got time to
chat. How the hell are you?"

    "You won't believe it," Claire lamented. "You've gotten me into a shitload
of trouble."

    "Me?" she replied with surprise. "How did I do that?"

    Claire explained the events of the last several weeks, starting with the
contact lenses, the new hair style, the secret identity and (finally) the
smoking. 

    "God, I can't believe it," Liz laughed. "You're actually smoking? Wow! I
don't believe it, Doc," she repeated. "I never really expected you to follow
my lead."

    "I want to ask about that," Claire explained. "But hang on a second. "She
paused to light a cigarette. "I need to ask you a few questions."

    Liz interrupted. "Did you just light up?" she asked. "Was that the sound
of a lighter I heard? God, you're smoking a cigarette right now, aren't you?"

    "Damn straight," Claire giggled, purposely exhaling into the receiver.
"I'm already into my second pack today."

    "No shit?" Liz whistled. "God, you aren't kidding, are you?"

    "No, I'm not kidding," Claire confirmed. "I'm hooked, Liz. I'm hopelessly
addicted to these things. All I think about anymore is when and where I get to
smoke my next cigarette. I never tire of lighting up. Each cigarette I smoke
gives me so much pleasure. It's kind of scary." She interrupted the discussion
for a prolonged drag. "That's what I need to ask about," she added, inhaling
the smoke into her lungs as she spoke. "You told me you only smoke with your
smoking buddies. Is that really true? Do you really control your smoking that
much? Or were you lying to me?" She exhaled through her nostrils awaiting
Liz's reply.

    There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, she
answered. "I didn't tell you the whole truth, Doc. Actually, I smoke all the
fuckin' time anymore, at least a pack a day. Sometimes more. It didn't start
that way, but it's been that way for months. When we were in Springdale for
the funeral, I hid it from you and Janice. That was pure hell! I really needed
to smoke, but I was afraid of you guys. When I could, I sneaked off to grab a
quick cigarette. My room at the hotel was safe. I smoked like a fiend every
night and first thing each morning. I covered the smell perfume and
breath-mints. Don't you remember how much perfume I wore, especially that
morning at breakfast? Didn't it seem strange? It was 'cause I'd just finished
smoking three consecutive cigarettes!"

    Claire smiled. She _did_ remember the overpowering aroma of Liz's perfume
that day. Shit!. She never suspected its true purpose. She shook her head.
"You did a good job of hiding it, Liz. I never suspected. You're a pro. I'd
never have guessed you were smoking the whole time we were together."

    Liz was pleased to learn she'd successfully deceived her sister. "Well, I
sure was smoking," she went on. "You understand why I hid it. If you knew the
truth, I was sure you'd disapprove. God, I didn't want to be lectured. I get
enough of that shit from my non-smoking friends. It was important to keep you
in the dark. After all, you're a doctor, Claire. I knew you'd chew me out if
you discovered I was smoking all the time." 

    "You're right, I would have," Claire admitted. "But why did you tell me
you were smoking socially? Wouldn't it have been smarter to keep your smoking
a complete secret?"

    "Maybe," Liz acknowledged. "But maybe not. I feared you'd smell it on my
clothes and in my hair. I needed an excuse to deflect your criticism, but
didn't want you to know I was hooked. I thought if you knew I smoked, but
thought I only smoked occasionally, it'd explain why my clothes smelled."

    "That's pretty smart," conceded Claire.

    "Thanks," Liz said proudly. "Plus, that story I told you wasn't complete
fiction. Some of it was true. In the beginning, I _did_ only smoke with my
friend Tina from work. At first, I never smoked anywhere else, even in my
apartment. I smoked socially, and that was it. That lasted for about a month.
After awhile, smoking got under my skin. One morning I thought how nice it
would be to smoke just one cigarette before work. It started innocently, just
one cigarette with my coffee on one special morning. Pretty soon, it was one
cigarette _every_ morning. Then it turned into _two_ cigarettes every morning
before work. The problem was, I liked smoking too damn much. I couldn't
control it. God knows I tried. But the fact was, I wanted to smoke more than I
wanted to control it. After awhile, I was smoking all the time I was at my
apartment. Then I started smoking in my car. One day, I took my cigarettes to
work. Just for the fun of it, I wanted to join Tina for one afternoon smoke
break. It was fun, all right. Pretty soon, I was taking smoke breaks at work
all the time. In short, before I knew it, I was hooked, smoking a pack a day
every fuckin' day. I'm sorry. I should've told you. If I had, this wouldn't
have happened. I feel terrible."

    "Don't feel bad," Claire reassured her. "I'm not mad or anything. I just
wanted to know the truth. That's all. The funny thing is, almost the same
thing happened to me. I started smoking because I thought we shared the same
defective genes. I thought if you controlled your smoking, I'd be able to
control mine, too. It worked for a short while. Like you, I started smoking an
extra cigarette in the mornings. But that crisis at the hospital made me
realize how much I really need nicotine. Now I can't control my smoking any
more than you can."

    "That's right," Liz conceded. "I tried to control it, but I can't. I'm
hooked, Claire. I'm sorry. I should have warned you."

    "Don't be sorry. Believe me, I'm not. Maybe you didn't understand. I like
smoking, Liz. I'm glad you encouraged me to try it."

    "Are you sure? But what about your health?" Liz asked. "Aren't you
scared?"

    "No," Claire announced, exhaling again into the phone. "I'm don't know
why, but the health stuff doesn't scare me anymore. Nothing that's worthwhile
is without some risk. And smoking is definitely worthwhile."

    "So, you're not thinking about quitting?"

    "No, I'm not going to quit," Claire repeated. "I haven't thought about it.
In fact, I'm moving in the other direction. I'm serious. I just bought
ashtrays for every room in my damn apartment. Next, I want to buy a fancy
cigarette case and an expensive lighter. I can't quit now. Smoking is too much
fun, Liz."

    "Isn't it?" Liz agreed with a giggle. "I love lighting a cigarette and
taking that first hit. I know what you mean. It's not politically correct to
say this, but I like smoking. I'm glad you do, too. But good luck with the job
thing."

    Claire took a last hit and crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. "I have
an appointment at the Workers Comp Bureau tomorrow morning. Then I'm meeting
with Tim's lawyer friend tomorrow afternoon about my case. In the meantime, I
have great new girlfriends, all of whom smoke, and a boyfriend who smokes. I'm
a new person. I have you to thank, Liz. None of this would be happening unless
you encouraged me to indulge the evil Claire Davis who's always been inside
me."

    "The evil Claire Davis," Liz repeated with a gentle sigh. "God, it sounds
like the evil Claire we've created is totally in control of your life these
days!"

    "Sis, the evil Claire _is_ my life now," Claire corrected her. "That's how
it's going to stay."


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