Kill All the Lawyers

sentiments for Steve.

'Stephen has a good heart. Sometimes, I fear you're too harsh with him.'

'Me? Harsh?'

'And judgmental. And if I may so, a bit fussy and priggish.'

'What!'

'I thought I'd raised you to be a bit more fun.'

'And when did you do that, Mother? When you were off in Gstaad or Monaco?'

'Don't get huffy. All I'm saying, a woman has to support her man. Steve's in a real pressure cooker right now. And to throw a hissy fit because he happens to chat with an unclothed girl-well, if you ask me, that's a bit priggish.'

Victoria had been too stunned to be angry. The Queen seldom spoke about anyone at great length, other than herself. And it was practically unheard of, a solar eclipse of an event, for her to say anything nice about Steve. But this was the second time in a matter of days that she'd taken his side. So what was going on? Bewilderingly, from the crab cake appetizer to the banana creme brulee, her mother practically oozed affection for Steve.

'When are you moving in together, dear?'

'What's the hurry?'

'I have my eye on a charming housewarming gift.'

'So, suddenly, you think Steve is right for me?'

'Trust me where men are concerned, dear. Despite that thorny exterior, deep inside, Stephen is a loving, caring man who adores you.'

Just what were they putting in the sparkling water, anyway?

But the more Victoria thought about Steve, the more she thought her mother was right.

Meaning I've been right, all along. Beginning that night in the avocado grove-Bruce's avocado grove- when I sneaked off with Steve.

He had so many good qualities. His love for Bobby. His quest for justice, even if the road he took was usually off the beaten path. His quirky sense of humor. And, of course, one more thing, something her mother nailed as she sipped her after-dinner cognac.

'May I assume Stephen's good in the sack?'

'You may assume anything you wish, Mother.'

'I always liked lanky, wiry men. Stephen looks pretty limber to me.'

Right now, Mr. Limber was in the backyard, squirting fluid on the charcoal, lighting a fire for the steaks. T- bones, sweet potatoes, tossed salad, followed by a discussion of feelings, along with Key lime pie. Yes, this was going to be a special night.

Five minutes later, Steve came into the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator. What shoes and purses were to women, Victoria thought, the fridge and the TV were to men. He poked around a second and pulled out a cold Sam Adams.

He liked cold beer and rare steak. She liked white wine and grilled salmon. But tonight none of that mattered. Tonight they would get closer than ever. She just knew it.

'How long until you put the steaks on?' she asked.

'A while. You know I like the coals to be glowing. The secret to a great steak-'

'Is the hottest possible fire. Sear the outside, keep the inside juicy. I know, I know. Make mine well done?'

He made a face. 'If you say so. Where's the Bobster?'

'In his room, studying.'

'Alone?'

She gave him a bittersweet smile. Bobby had been moping around ever since he'd been exiled from the Goldberg house, and Maria had been forbidden from even setting foot on Kumquat Avenue. All by royal decree of the Munoz-Goldbergs.

Complicating the situation was Janice. Steve had begun allowing her to visit Bobby at home, but so far refusing to let her take him anywhere alone. He'd been afraid Janice would snatch him and run.

Now Steve picked up the salad bowl and shook it, shuffling the lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers, everything sliced thin, the way he liked it.

'You make a great salad,' he said.

'Thanks.' She sipped at the wine to let him go on without interruption. When a witness is ready to talk, best to keep quiet.

'You're really terrific in the kitchen,' he continued. 'A lot of women these days just don't take the time. But the way you balance work and everything else- well, it's pretty impressive.'

She picked up the cheese grater and went to work. In truth, her culinary skills were limited to a couple of dishes, but she sensed this was just a warm-up, Steve taking a few practice swings. He looked a little nervous. Apparently, stalking a serial killer was not as scary a task as plumbing his own emotional depths.

'You're good at so many things,' Steve went on. 'You're amazing with Bobby; the kid adores you.'

'It's mutual.'

Okay, now we're moving in the right direction, though at the speed of a manatee. C'mon, Steve. Let's go from the nephew's feelings to the uncle's feelings.

'Maybe you and I can talk a bit while Bobby's still in his room,' Steve said. 'About personal stuff.'

She stopped grating the cheese in midstroke. 'Sure.'

'There are things I've wanted to say to you for a long time, but you know how it is. . '

He plucked a tomato slice out of the bowl and let the words dangle in the air. Tongue-tied. Not his usual state. His dark hair was messed, and there was a smudge of charcoal on his cheek. He looked like a kid, she thought, in part perhaps because of his T-shirt: 'I Am Not Infantile, You Stinky Butt Poophead.'

'Go ahead, Steve. It won't hurt.'

'So why does it feel like opening a vein?'

'When you're in a relationship, you've got to trust the other person. You can share feelings, expose your fears, your weaknesses.' She reached over and wiped the smudge from his face.

He took a breath and sighed, as if to say, 'Here goes.'

She picked up her wineglass and waited. It was a two-sip wait. There was so much she wanted to hear. Words like 'love' and 'plans' and 'future,' and even 'marriage' and 'children.' Sure, she knew he was conflicted. Men were like that. They yearn for the love of a woman, and then when they get it, they break into a cold sweat.

'You remember how I always told you about the College World Series?' Steve said.

That puzzled her, but she went with it. 'U.M. down by a run in the ninth inning. You got picked off third base to end the game.'

'What else? What do I always say?'

This must be some sort of metaphor, she thought, but what could it be? Steve was bringing back the most humiliating day of his life. He'd let his teammates down. So maybe he wanted to say: 'I want us to be a team forever, Vic, and I'll never let you down.'

'You always say you got in under the tag,' she replied. 'The ump blew the call.'

'Yeah, maybe the photos make it look that way. But the thing is, I felt the third baseman's glove swipe my hand when I dived for the base. All this time, Vic, I've been lying to myself and everybody else. The damn truth is, I was out.'

Okay, Steve, you were picked off. Your team lost. What's it have to do with us?

But she didn't want to appear critical. What was it her mother had said?

'A woman must support her man.'

She wrapped both arms around his neck and moved so close, their noses nearly touched. 'I understand, sweetheart. You feel your life has been a lie.'

'Well, not my whole life. But I feel so much better telling you what really happened.'