Understand?”
“Let him go,” Joey said tiredly from the office to my right.
I looked to my left. The old man was in the doorway that led to the store, slicing me open with his watery brown eyes. I released Caruso’s shirt and straightened my overcoat, shifting my shoulders underneath. Caruso exhaled and attempted a vicious stare but didn’t say a word. I walked out into the store, sidestepping the old man. The old man followed. Finally I reached the front door.
“I’m sorry, Mr. DiGeordano,” I said. “He had that coming.”
“Not in my place, he didn’t.”
“I apologize.”
“You have your grandfather’s quick hands,” he said. “But you don’t have his class.” Lou DiGeordano looked me up and down and made sure I saw it.
I pushed on the door and walked to my car, where I slid behind the wheel. I watched my hand shake as I touched the key to the ignition. The car came alive. I swurm alive. ng it out on onto Georgia Avenue and ignored an angry salutation of blaring horns.
SIX
'Say that again?”
Jackie Kahn said, “You heard me.”
We were seated at a four-top near the kitchen in a restaurant called Giorgaki’s on Pennsylvania Avenue in Southeast, a place that was decorated to approximate one of those sparse, white-stuccoed cafenions that are all over Greece. On the wall next to our table was a large framed photograph of the windmills of Mykonos. Waiters were hurrying through the outward swinging metal doors, and when they came out from the kitchen the excited shouts of argumentative Greeks came out with them. Jackie dipped her bread in the tarama that was dolloped next to the tzaziki on the appetizer tray and kept her eyes on mine as she tore a bit off with her teeth.
“I heard you,” I admitted. “But why me?”
“You’ve got good genes. And you’re… reasonably attractive.”
Our African waiter arrived and set down a plate of marinated octopus just as Jackie spoke. He asked, in Greek more fluent and correctly accented than mine, if there would be anything else. I ordered an American beer and a retsina for Jackie. The waiter winked at me before he left. I squeezed some lemon over the octopus and had a taste.
“Knock it off, Jackie,” I said as I swallowed a rubbery cube of octopus.
“There’s nothing to knock off, Nick.” Jackie rearranged the silverware around her plate and folded her hands. “Listen. I’m a person who’s generally content. In that respect I’m very lucky. And I’m very comfortable with my sexual proclivity. I have a wonderful career, and I’ve found an extremely compatible person to share it with. There’s only one thing now that I’m missing, and I see no reason why I can’t have it.”
“A child.”
“Right.”
“So adopt one,” I said. “There’s laws now that prevent discrimination against gay couples who want to adopt.”
“I’m not interested in getting into some long, protracted process involving miles of red tape, or the expense that goes along with it. And like most people, I prefer to bear a child from my own blood, especially if I’m able.”
The waiter brought our drinks and took our dinner order. Jackie asked for a country salad, and I ordered souzoukakia, a meatball dish in a spicy tomato sauce served over rice. He left and I had a pull off my beer, then studied Jackie’s face.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Never been more serious, Nicky.”
“How do I fit in?” I said. “So to speak.”‹5nt›
Jackie smirked. “I thought that part would interest you.”
“Only in the scientific sense.”
“Uh-huh.” She sipped her retsina and set down the glass. “Actually, the ball is rolling right now. A week from now I’m scheduled for a sonogram. If everything goes according to schedule-that is, if I’m ovulating-we could have intercourse next Sunday night.”
“Intercourse? You make it sound so romantic.”
“I just want to be efficient. It’s not that the thought of being with you is so awfully repulsive.”
“Now, stop. You’ll make me blush.”
“What do you think?” she asked.
I lit a cigarette and aimed the exhale away from her face. “Normally, I’d say something wise. But I can see you’re not bullshitting me. I can tell you right off the bat that a guy like me has no business being a father.”
“You wouldn’t be, not in that way. I’ve had my lawyer draw up a waiver that would limit any parental rights you might have, even if you were to have a change of heart up the road. Of course I’d never stop you from seeing the child, if that’s what you wanted.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“That’s right,” she said, and her eyes softened. “What else?”
“I’ll tell you the first thing that came to my mind. Bringing a kid into this world-it’s a huge decision, and sometimes it’s one based entirely on selfishness. And I’ve got to admit, you know, as much as I wear my heart on my sleeve, who’s to say that the fact that you’re gay is not rattling around somewhere in the back of my mind?”
“What bothers you about it?”
“Are a gay couple going to make proper parents? I don’t know. I don’t know if it does bother me. I’m just being honest with you. I’ve gotta think about it. All of it.”
“I didn’t expect you to decide right here,” she said. “But don’t drag your feet. I’ve scheduled you for an appointment at the clinic on Wednesday morning. I want you to have a blood test, and I want them to check your sperm count while you’re there.”
“Don’t trust me, huh?”
“If your sperm count’s low, there’s no reason to go through with it. As for the blood test, the fact is that I’m monogamous. And you’re an active heterosexual. I’m not taking any chances.”
“No chances, huh? Kind of takes the fun out of it.”
“Fun?” Jackie said. “You’ll find a way.”
I dropped Jackie off and drove north on Wisconsin through an alternation of f Cernsize='2lurries and freezing drizzle. The radio was on, a sports-talk program on WHUR. The caller was saying something derogatory about Larry Bird. He called and said roughly the same thing at about the same time every week. What he really objected to was the fact that Bird was white. But tonight I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about Billy Goodrich.
I had called him at his house in Scaggsville after my meeting with DiGeordano. There had been a pause on his end when I told him about the money. The pause in itself could have meant a lot of things-shock, fear for his wife, a moment to strategize-and as I was waiting for his response, I realized my mistake. I should have brought the matter up in his presence; there are, after all, more clues in one face than in a hundred telephone conversations. In any case, when I hung up with Billy, he knew more than I did, and I knew nothing.
I found a spot near Lee’s apartment in Tenleytown and killed the engine. On the way to her stairwell I hawked the remainder of a mint onto the brown lawn of the property. At Lee’s door I straightened my overcoat and knocked twice. I watched my breath hit the metal door until the door swung open.
Lee had on a jade green shirt, buttoned to the top, the one that made her green eyes seem violently alive. The large brown speck in one of those eyes appeared hazel in the yellowish light of the stairwell. Her dark hair was drawn back, but a twist of it had come unbound and had fallen across her forehead and then down the side of her angular face. Her smile caused small lines to flower at the corners of her eyes.
“Hello,” she said.
