One False Move
Page 65

“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“A lot,” he said.
“I’m listening.”
“My friend Horace was murdered.”
Jessica closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“And Esperanza’s leaving MB.”
“You couldn’t work something out?”
“No.”
Myron’s cellular phone rang. He snapped the power off. They stood there, neither of them moving.
Then Jessica said, “What else?”
“That’s it.”
She shook her head. “You can’t even look at me.”
So he did. Myron lifted his head and stared right at her for the first time since entering the loft. Jessica was, as always, achingly beautiful. He felt something inside him start to rip.
“I almost slept with someone else,” he said.
Jessica did not move. “Almost?”
“Yes.”
“I see,” she said. Then: “So why almost?”
“Pardon?”
“Did she stop it? Or did you?”
“I did.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Yes, Myron, why didn’t you consummate the act?”
“Jesus, that’s a hell of a question.”
“No, not really. You were tempted, right?”
“Yes.”
“More than tempted even,” she added. “You wanted to go through with it.”
“I don’t know.”
Jessica made a buzzing noise. “Liar.”
“Fine, I wanted to go through with it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I’m involved with another woman,” he said. “In fact, I’m in love with another woman.”
“How chivalrous. So you held back for me?”
“I held back for us.”
“Another lie. You held back for you. Myron Bolitar, the perfect guy, the one-woman wonder.”
She made a fist and put it to her mouth. Myron stepped toward her, but she backed away.
“I’ve been dumb,” Jessica said. “I admit that. I’ve done so many dumb things it’s a wonder you haven’t dumped me. Maybe I did all those dumb things because I knew I could. You’d always love me. No matter how dumb I acted, you’d always love me. So maybe I’m owed a little payback.”
“This isn’t about payback,” Myron said.
“I know, goddamn it.” She wrapped her arms around herself. As though the room had suddenly gone very cold. As though she needed a hug. “That’s what terrifies me.”
He kept still and waited.
“You don’t cheat, Myron. You don’t fool around. You don’t have flings. Hell, you don’t even get tempted much. So the question is, How much do you love her?”
Myron held up his hands. “I barely know her.”
“You think that matters?”
“I don’t want to lose you, Jess.”
“And I’m not about to give you up without a fight. But I want to know what I’m up against.”
“It’s not like that.”
“So what’s it like?”
Myron opened his mouth, closed it. Then he said, “Do you want to get married?”
Jessica blinked, but she didn’t step back. “Is this a proposal?”
“I’m asking you a question. Do you want to get married?”
“If that’s what it takes, yeah, I want to get married.”
Myron smiled. “My, what enthusiasm.”
“What do you want me to say, Myron? Whatever you want me to say, I’ll say. Yes, no, whatever will keep you here with me.”
“This isn’t a test, Jess.”
“Then why are you raising marriage all of a sudden?”
“Because I want to be with you forever,” he said. “And I want to buy a house. And I want to have kids.”
“So do I,” she said. “But life is so good right now. We’ve got our careers, our freedom. Why spoil it? There’ll be time for all that later.”
Myron shook his head.
“What?” she said.
“You’re stalling.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Having a family is not something I want to fit into a convenient time block.”
“But now?” Jessica put up her hands. “Right now? This is what you really want? A house in the suburbs like your parents? The Saturday night barbecues? The backyard hoop? The PTA meetings? The back-to-school shopping at the mall? That’s what you really want?”
Myron looked at her, and he felt something deep within him crumble. “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I want.”
They both stood and stared at each other. There was a knock on the door. Neither one of them moved. Another knock. Then Win’s voice: “Open it.”
Win was not one for casual interruptions. Myron did as he asked. Win glanced at Jessica and gave her a slight nod. He handed Myron his cellular. “It’s Norm Zuckerman,” Win said. “He’s been trying to reach you.”
Jessica turned and left the room. Quickly. Win watched her, but he kept his expression even. Myron took the phone. “Yeah, Norm.”
Norm’s voice was pure panic. “It’s almost game time.”
“So?”
“So where the hell is Brenda?”
Myron felt his heart leap into his throat. “She told me she was riding on the team bus.”
“She never got on it, Myron.”
Myron flashed back to Horace on the morgue slab. His knees almost buckled. Myron looked at Win.
“I’ll drive,” Win said.
They took the Jag. Win did not slow for red lights. He did not slow for pedestrians. Twice Win veered up on sidewalks to bypass heavy traffic.
Myron looked straight ahead. “What I said before. About your going too far.”
Win waited.
“Forget it,” Myron said.
For the rest of the ride, neither man spoke.
Win screeched the car into an illegal spot on the southeast corner of Thirty-third Street and Eighth Avenue. Myron sprinted toward the Madison Square Garden employee entrance. A police officer sauntered toward Win with major attitude. Win ripped a hundred-dollar bill and handed one half to the officer. The officer nodded and tipped his cap. No words needed to be exchanged.
The guard at the employee entrance recognized Myron and waved him through.
“Where’s Norm Zuckerman?” Myron asked.
“Press room. Other side of the—”