we could be seen from outside the stall. If we could, it didn‟t seem to concern her. She stepped even
closer, put the riding crop behind my neck, and, holding it with both hands, drew me closer. Her
mouth opened a hair, her eyes narrowed.
“Oh, God, I‟m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I didn‟t know Chief had written
that letter until Teddy told me. You just stopped writing and calling, like you‟d died.”
“The phone works both ways,” I heard myself say, and I thought,
Shut up, you fool, play it out. Let her talk. You‟ve been dreaming about this moment for twenty years;
don‟t blow it now.
“Pride,” she said. “We all have our faults. That‟s one of my worst. I wanted to write, then Teddy told
me to leave you alone. He said you‟d had enough. Please forgive me for being so foolish.”
I wondered if she really thought we could puff off twenty years so easily. Say we‟re sorry and forget
it. Was she that sure of my vulnerability? „The armour started slipping around me but she moved
closer, six inches away, and shaking her head gently, she breathed, “There will never be anyone like
you for me. Never again. I‟ve known it ever since I lost you, just as I knew you wouldn‟t come last
night.”
“How did you know that?” I said, my voice sounding hoarse and uncertain.
“Because I don‟t deserve it,” she said, and her lips began to tremble. “Because I wanted you to come
so much and—”
“Hey, easy,” I said, putting a finger against that full, inviting mouth.
What‟s happening here? I thought. How about all the decisions I had silently made to myself the night
before? Is this all it takes to break old Kilmer down?
Yeah, that‟s all it takes.
Then she closed her eyes, and her lips spread apart again, and she moved in and it was like the old
days. I got lost in her mouth, felt her tentative tongue taking a chance, and responded with mine. And
then she was in my arms and it was all I could do to keep from crushing her. I felt her knee rubbing
the outside of mine, heard the riding crop fall into the sawdust, felt her hands sliding down the small
of my back, pressing me closer to her.
I forgot all the things I was going to say to her. The accusations, the questions that would clear up the
dark corners of my mind. Whatever anger lurked inside me vanished at that moment. I slid my hands
down and felt the rise of her buttocks and pressed her to me.
“Oh, Jake,” she said huskily, “I wish it was that summer again. I wish the last twenty years never
happened.”
Don‟t we all, I thought; wouldn‟t that be nice. But I didn‟t say
“Forget all that,” I mumbled without taking my lips away. “Nothing to forgive.”
“Oh, Jake, I want it to be like it used to be,” she said, with her lips still brushing mine. “Come tonight.
Please come tonight. Don‟t stay away again.”
And without thinking any more about it, I said, “Yes.” And I knew I meant yes. I knew I would go
and the hell with Dutch and the Taglianis and the bell with safety and distance and vulnerability. I
would go because I wanted to and because it was my payoff for twenty years. I said it again. And
again.
“Yes... yes. . . yes.”
32
UP JUMPS THE DEVIL
When I left the stable, the first person 1 saw was Stick. He was leaning against the dreaded black
Pontiac and was looking right at me when I came out. She was a couple of feet behind me, standing
inside the stall but visible nevertheless. His expression never changed; he simply looked the other way
as he took out a cigarette and lit up.
“Later,” I said quietly, without turning, and walked straight to the car. Stick had traded in his slept-in
seersucker for a pair of ratty chinos, dirty tennis shoes, and a black boatneck T-shirt, but the brown
fedora was still perched on the back of his head.
“Sorry if I‟m late,” I said, staring out the windshield.
“First things first,” he said, swinging around and heading back out the gate.
We drove a couple of minutes in silence and I finally said, “That wasn‟t what it looked like.”
“I didn‟t see a thing.”
“Look, I knew her a long time ago. It‟s no big thing.”
“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.”
“It‟s no problem.”
“Hey, this is the Stick, my friend. You can bullshit me about not finishing things properly and all that
crap, but don‟t tell rue it‟s no problem.”
“It‟s no problem,” I said emphatically. It sounded more like I was trying to convince myself than him.
“Jake, getting into it is never the problem. Getting out of it, that‟s the problem.” :I‟m already out of it.
What I‟m trying to avoid is getting back
“Oh, that‟s what you‟re trying to do?”
“Yes!”
“You got a unique approach,” he said, and after a few seconds he asked, “Are you still in love with
her?”
“Shit.”
“No shit.”
I sighed. “Hell, I don‟t know. Maybe I‟m in love with the idea of her. Maybe I never took the time to
get out of love with her. I haven‟t worked it out.”
“When are you going to see her again?”
I had a moment of panic, as though I‟d told him too much already. The old paranoia.
“What time tonight are you going to see her?” he repeated.
“Who says I‟m going to see her tonight?”
He shot me another crazy smile.