Amber looked at the big picture of Ozzie Smith behind the bar.
“Who’s the black guy?” Amber said.
“That’s Ozzie Smith,” Molly said. “He’s in the Baseball Hall of Fame.”
“So why’s his picture here?”
“I guess Jesse admires him,” Molly said.
“How come?”
“Jesse used to be a ballplayer,” Molly said. “He was a shortstop, like Ozzie.”
“Jesse played baseball?”
“In the minor leagues,” Molly said. “He hurt his shoulder and had to stop.”
“Bummer,” Amber said. “And he ends up a cop.”
“I think he likes being a cop,” Molly said.
“How come?”
“He’s good at it,” Molly said.
“That’s all?”
“That’s enough,” Molly said.
“Is that why you like it?”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “Yeah, it is.”
They were quiet for a time. The gossip program gurgled on.
“Must be why I like screwing,” Amber said.
“Because you’re good at it?” Molly said.
“The best,” Amber said.
“My husband always says the worst sex he ever had was great,” Molly said.
“What’s that mean?”
“Maybe everybody’s good at it,” Molly said.
Amber was silent for a time. Then she shrugged.
“What’s the difference,” she said.
54.
Crow came into Jesse’s office and sat down.
“Things happening in town,” he said.
“All of them since you arrived,” Jesse said.
“Think of me as a catalyst for change,” Crow said.
“Or the Grim Reaper,” Jesse said.
