don’t give a damn inch, do you?“
Jesse smiled.
“Siuce you drew it up,” Jesse said,
“you know that my
7°
J— . contract here provides recourse to the selectmen if they are dissatisfied with my performance.“
“So, you’re saying the ball is in their court.”
“Yes.”
They looked at each other. Abby held his look, feeling challenged by it. Then she smiled.
“God, you are so much harder than you
look.”
Jesse smiled again.
“And what’s my name?”
“Jesse.”
They laughed. Abby sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.
“I mean you look like a history teacher,”
she said.
“Who might coach tennis on the side.”
Jesse didn’t say anything. He was looking at her legs.
“And yet you handled Jo Jo Genest.”
“Experience is helpful,” Jesse said.
“Have you had that much experience with people like Genest?”
“In L.A. I worked South Central,” Jesse said. “People in South Central would keep ‘Jo Jo for a pet.”
“No one ever confronted him before like that.”
“Guess it was time,” Jesse said.
“You won, but don’t misjudge him. He can he very dangerous.”
“Anybody can be very dangerous, Abby.”
“I believe he has mob connections.”
“‘Jesse.’”
She smiled.
“Jesse,” she said.
“Good. You married?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with the issue before us,” she said.
“Me either,” Jesse said.
“I’m happily divorced,” Abby
said. “Five years.”
“Taylor your own name?”
“Yes.”
They were silent again. Outside his office he could hear the sporadic murmur of the dispatcher’s voice. The occasional sound of a door opening and closing. It was a lulling sound, it went with quiet summer nights and green space in the center of a small town.
The office itself was very spare. Jesse’s desk was bare except for the phone and a pair of gold-tinted Oakley sunglasses. There was a window behind his chair which looked out at the driveway of the fire station. A green metal file cabinet stood to the right of the window. There was no rug on the floor. No pictures of anyone.
“Have you ever been married?” Abby said.
“Yes.”
“But you’re not married now.”
“No.‘?
“Divorced?”
“Yes.”
“Jesse, one of the rules of con. versation is that when asked a question you don’t give a one-word answer.”
Jesse looked at his watch.
“Okay,” he said. “It’s
