"You jerking me around?" I asked. Bobby's known for his practical jokes.
"Nah, the company's going to be in L.A. next week and Joe said if you was still looking for work, he might give you a shot. One thing, though."
"What's that?"
"How's the knee?"
"Fine," I lied. ćAs good as new."
"Great. Joe was asking me about it. I told him you were in the best shape of your life."
"I'm dying out here in Lotus Land, Bobby. I can't get a good slice of pizza anywhere. I dream about Sal's. You hear what I'm saying?"
"I hear you. Look, Mikey, Joe's heard some rumors about why you got fired. Are you...okay? If you know what I mean?"
"I'm clean. Tell Joe not to worry."
"That's good. I gotta go. I'll call you when we get there. I'll bring youone of Sal's pies in my carry-on. See ya."
"See ya, Bobby."
In a week-- Good bye L.A.!
Eric switched off the viewing light.
"Okay." he said. "You're off the dance floor for four to five weeks."
"But I just got an audition!"
"I'd recommend against it."
"Why?"
"You've been dancing on a bad knee for too long. You need to let it heal or you'll end up laid up for 4 to 6 months; and possibly off the dance floor permanently."
"I have to go to this audition. This is a huge break for me."
"I can't stop you, but I have to tell you -- if you don't let your knee heal, you're looking at permanent damage."
"I understand," I eyed the prescription pad in his coat pocket.
"I'll give you something, but you have to promise me you'll use it only when you have to. Donāt use it numb your self. Get the problem taken care of, okay?"
Eric scribbled on the pad, tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to me. 
