23.
Jenn sat across from Jesse in the Gray Gull, at the window overlooking the harbor. He was sipping a scotch and soda. Jenn had a mojito.
“You’re working,” Jesse said.
“Why do you think so?”
“You’re on expenses,” Jesse said, “or you wouldn’t have promised to pay for dinner.”
Jenn smiled.
“I missed you,” she said. “I wanted to talk. You can pay if you’d rather.”
“That’s okay,” Jesse said.
“Secure in your manhood?”
“Something like that,” Jesse said.
“I need a favor.”
“Sure.”
“We have been all over the gang infiltration story,” Jenn said. “And I’m not so sure there is a story.”
Jesse nodded.
“We keep getting information from a group called Paradise Preserved about gang activity here. But we can’t verify much more than a couple of instances of graffiti.”
Jesse nodded.
“Are we being jerked around?” Jenn said.
“You are,” Jesse said.
“What do they want?”
“They want the Crowne estate project to fail,” Jesse said.
“So they are trying to convince people in Paradise that gang invasion is a collateral result?”
“Something like that,” Jesse said.
“I suppose it’s better than being opposed to education of the young,” Jenn said.
“They’ve discovered, I think, that intimidating five-year-old kids doesn’t look good on TV,” Jesse said.
“When we talked about this before, I thought you were being defensive and you thought I was being careerist.”
“Neither of us was entirely wrong,” Jesse said.
Jesse’s first drink had been a very small drink. Jenn still had half of hers. His drinking always bothered her. What would she think if he ordered another one? They were divorced and she was sleeping with other men. How much did he have to lose? He gestured toward the waitress.
“No,” Jenn said. “I am a careerist, I guess. My job means a great deal to me. As yours does to you.”
“I’m good at it,” Jesse said. “If I can keep being good at it, maybe I’ll get to be good at other things.”
“You’re good at a lot of things, Jesse.”
“Marriage doesn’t seem to be one of them,” Jesse said.
