Maybe that was what he should have said to the girls.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning Myron headed into work.
His office was on the twelfth floor of the Lock-Horne Building — as in Win’s name — on Park Avenue and Fifty-second Street in midtown Manhattan. When the elevator opened, Myron was greeted with a big sign — a new addition to the place — that read
MB REPS
in some funky font. Esperanza had come up with the new logo. The M stood for Myron. The B for Bolitar. The Reps came from the fact that they were in the business of representation. Myron had come up with the name by himself. He would often pause after telling people that and wait for the applause to die down.
Originally, when they just worked in the sports field, the firm was called MB SportsReps instead of MB Reps. Over the past five years the company had diversified, representing actors, authors, and celebrities of various stripes. Ergo the clever shortening of the name. Getting rid of the excess, cutting away the fat. Yep, that was MB Reps right down to the name.
Myron heard the baby cry. Esperanza must be in already. He poked his head into her office.
Esperanza was breast-feeding. He immediately looked down.
“Uh, I’ll come back later.”
“Stop being an ass,” Esperanza said. “You’d think you’ve never seen a breast before.”
“Well, it’s been a while.”
“And certainly not one this spectacular,” she added. “Sit.”
At first, MB SportsReps had just been just Myron the super-agent and Esperanza the receptionist/secretary/Girl Friday. You may remember Esperanza during her years as the sexy, lithe professional wrestler named Little Pocahontas. Every Sunday morning on Channel 11 here in the New York area, Esperanza would take to the ring, donning a feathered headband and drool-inducing bikini of pseudosuede. Along with her partner, Big Chief Mama, known in real life as Big Cyndi, they held the intercontinental tag-team championship belt for FLOW, the Fabulous Ladies Of Wrestling. The wrestling organization had originally wanted to call itself the Beautiful Ladies Of Wrestling, but the network had trouble with the ensuing acronym.
Esperanza’s current title at MB Reps was senior vice president, but she pretty much ran the sports division now.
“Sorry I missed your coming-out party,” Esperanza said.
“It wasn’t a coming-out party.”
“Whatever. Hector here had a cold.”
“Is he better now?”
“He’s fine.”
“So what’s going on here?”
“Michael Discepolo. We need to get his contract done.”
“The Giants still dragging their feet?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’ll be a free agent,” Myron said. “I think that’s probably a good move, what with the way he’s been playing.”
“Except Discepolo is a loyal guy. He’d rather sign.”
Esperanza pulled Hector away from her nipple and put him on the other breast. Myron tried not to look away too suddenly. He never quite knew how to play it when a woman breast-fed in front of him. He wanted to be mature about it, but what exactly did that mean? You don’t stare, but you don’t divert your eyes either. How do you mine the area between those two?
“I have some news,” Esperanza said.
“Oh?”
“Tom and I are getting married.”
Myron said nothing. He felt a funny twinge.
“Well?”
“Congrats.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m surprised, that’s all. But really, I think that’s great. When’s the big day?”
“Three weeks from Saturday. But let me ask you something. Now that I’m marrying the father of my baby, am I still a fallen woman?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Damn, I like being a fallen woman.”
“Well, you still had the baby out of wedlock.”
“Good point. I could run with that.”
Myron looked at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“You, married.” He shook his head.
“I was never big on commitment, was I?”
“You change partners like a cineplex changes movies.”
Esperanza smiled. “True.”
“I don’t even remember you staying with the same gender for more than, what, a month?”
“The wonders of bisexuality,” Esperanza said. “But it’s different with Tom.”
“How so?”
“I love him.”
He said nothing.
“You don’t think I can do it,” she said. “Stay true to one person.”
“I never said that.”
“Do you know what bisexual means?”
“Of course,” Myron said. “I dated a lot of bisexual women — I’d mention sex, the girl would say, ‘Bye.’ ”
Esperanza just looked at him.
“Okay, old joke,” he said. “It just…” Myron sort of shrugged.
“I like women and I like men. But if I make a commitment, it’s to a person, not a gender. Make sense?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Now tell me what’s wrong with you and this Ali Wilder.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Win said you two haven’t done the deed yet.”
“Win said that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Win just came in here and said that?”
“First he made a comment about my increased cup size since giving birth, then yes, he told me that you’ve been dating this woman for almost two months and haven’t done the nasty yet.”
“What makes him think that?”
“Body language.”
“He said that?”
“Win is good when it comes to body language.”
Myron shook his head.
“So is he right?”
“I’m having dinner at Ali’s house tonight. The kids are staying with her sister.”
“She made this plan?”
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t…?” With Hector still feeding, Esperanza still managed to gesture the point.
“We haven’t.”
“Man.”
“I’m waiting for a signal.”
“Like what, a burning bush? She invited you to her house and told you the kids would be away for the night.”
“I know.”
“That’s the international signal for Jump My Bones.”
He said nothing.
“Myron?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a widow — not a cripple. She’s probably terrified.”
“That’s why I’m taking it slow.”
“That’s sweet and noble, but stupid. And it’s not helping.”
“So you’re suggesting…?”
“A major bone jump, yes.”
CHAPTER 5
Myron arrived at Ali’s at seven P.M.
The Wilders lived in Kasselton, a town about fifteen minutes north of Livingston. Myron had gone through a strange ritual before leaving his house. Cologne or no cologne? That one was easy: no cologne. Tighty-whities or boxers? He chose something between the two, that hybrid that was either tight boxers or long tighties. Boxer briefs, the package said. And he chose them in gray. He wore a Banana Republic tan pullover with a black T-shirt underneath. The jeans were from the Gap. Slip-on loafers from the Tod’s outlet store adorned his size-fourteen feet. He couldn’t be more American Casual if he tried.
Ali opened the door. The lights behind her were low. She wore a black dress with a scooped front. Her hair was pinned back. Myron liked that. Most men, they liked it when the hair came down. Myron had always been a fan of keeping it off the face.
He stared at her for another moment and then said, “Whoa.”
“I thought you said you were smooth.”
“I’m holding back.”
“But why?”
“If I go all out in the smooth department,” Myron said, “women all over the tri-state area begin to disrobe. I need to harness the power.”