“No big thing. Gotcha.”
“It?s no big thing!”
“Jake, it?s nothing to me,” he said. “See no evil, hear no evil, that?s me.”
“What do you mean; evil!”
“It?s a saying. Hey, there?s no need to be touchy, man.” He drove a moment or two more and added,
“I admire the hell out of the way you gather information.” Arid he started to laugh. I started to get
burned, then he looked over at me and winked. He reminded me of Teddy. I was waiting for him to
add the “Junior” on the end of the sentence. I started laughing too.
“Shit,” I said.
“Is it that important?”
“I don?t know,” I said with disgust. „It?s one of the balls I?ve been juggling.”
I was surprised at how easily it came out.
“Well, if you want an amateur?s opinion, I sure wouldn?t throw that one away.”
“Her husband?s the fucking racing commissioner,” I said.
“I know who her fucking husband is, “he said with a chuckle. “Anybody who?s been in town for
fifteen minutes knows who her husband is.”
More driving. More silence. Then he started to chuckle again. “I got to tell you, Jake, I really do
admire your style.”
“It hasn?t got anything to do with the job,” I told him. “This is old, personal business. Something that
was never finished properly.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the “Oh” for about five minutes. “Well, I?m glad you?re doing it up right
this time.”
“Don?t be an asshole,” I grumbled.
“Why don?t you talk about it?”
“1 don?t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” A long pause. “But I know you want to.”
“4 don?t want to talk about anything!
“It?s just like the blues. I can tell.”
“Damn it, Stick, drop it.”
“Done,” he said, and dropped it. I didn?t. He was right—I had to get it off my chest.
“There was a time—in my. . . late-blooming youth—when I thought I was going to marry her. I took
it for granted, one of my more spectacular mistakes.”
“Marry her, huh. Shit, you do have a problem.”
