Bob said, “You’re the
ex-husband.”
Jesse nodded.
“Are you all right?” Jenn said to him.
Jesse nodded again.
“You’re some sort of police
chief,” Bob said. “Somewhere on the
North Shore.”
Jesse realized that he was so close to Bob now that their sleeves touched. He nodded.
“Well,” Bob said.
“It’s been good talking to you, but we’re already late for our reservation at 9 Park, and you know how hard they are to get.”
Jesse neither moved nor spoke. He could feel Jenn watching him.
“Jesse,” she said.
He didn’t answer.
“Jesse,” Jenn said again.
“We’ve done a lot of work since I came here from Los Angeles.”
Jesse’s shoulders moved, as if he were trying to loosen
them.
“Don’t ruin it,” Jenn said.
Bob was two or three inches taller than Jesse. His skin had the
smooth blue tone of a man who shaved twice a day. As close as he was, Jesse could break Bob’s nose with the first punch.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jenn
said.
Bob nodded at Jesse, and the two of them walked toward Bob’s
car. Jesse watched them until they drove away. Then he walked slowly to his own car and opened the door and got in. He sat in his car with the door open and one foot still outside, and put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing.
29
She was driving the Saab through the narrow downtown of Paradise. He sat beside her in the front seat with a Canon digital camera, which was small enough to sit comfortably in the palm of his hand.
“Her,” she said.
He photographed a copper-haired woman pushing a stroller.
“We doing a woman next?” he said.
“Even it up,” she said.
“We’ve two men and a
woman.”
He sang, “A boy for you and a girl for me.”
She joined him.
“Can’t you see how happy we will
be.”
They both laughed.
“How about that good-looking black woman?”
he
said.
“Certainly,” she said.
“We’re not racists.”
Again they laughed together. He snapped a picture of the black woman.
“Don’t see many black people in
Paradise,” he
said.
She giggled.
“If we decide on her, you’ll see one less,” she
