Stranger in Paradise

“Suit’s fucking somebody?” Amber said from the doorway.

“Well put,” Jesse said.

“So maybe this Miriam Fiddler or whatever is fucking him so he’ll tell her stuff,” Amber said.

“Maybe,” Jesse said.

“So,” Amber said, “big deal. It happens all the time.”

“You think?” Jesse said.

“How else do you get anything?” Amber said.

“Sometimes women have sex with men because they like them,” Jenn said. “Even sometimes because they love them.”

“Yeah, you bet,” Amber said. “You like him?”

She nodded at Jesse.

“Yes,” Jenn said. “I probably love him.”

“So how come you don’t fuck him?”

“Right now it doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Jenn said.

“So you like him, but you won’t fuck him. And you love him but you’re divorced.”

“That’s about right,” Jenn said.

“You ever fuck some guy to get what you want?” Amber said.

“Yes,” Jenn said.

“See?” Amber said. “No big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Jenn said. “Because every time you do it you feel weak and worthless.”

“Maybe you do,” Amber said. “Not me.”

“You will,” Jenn said. “It’s cumulative.”

“Huh?”

“The more of it you do,” Jenn said, “the more you feel bad.”

“I like it,” Amber said. “When I’m balling a guy, I’m in charge, you know?”

“Like Esteban,” Jesse said.

Amber didn’t say anything for a moment. Then her eyes filled, and she turned and went through the living room to her bedroom.

“You hurt her feelings,” Jenn said.

“Esteban hurt her feelings,” Jesse said.

“And you reminded her of it.”

“She can’t be lying to herself,” Jesse said. “How is that good for her?”

“Maybe she has so little else,” Jenn said. “You ever see The Ice Man Cometh?”

“No.”

Jenn shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said.

“My parenting skills are limited,” Jesse said. “But I’m pretty sure the truth is good.”

“Maybe it’s not always,” Jenn said.

“Maybe it isn’t,” Jesse said. “But I’m not too sure about lying, either.”

“I know.”

They were silent. Jesse sipped his scotch. Jenn stared out at the harbor, where the darkness had thickened enough so that the lights on some of the yachts were showing.

“I can check the legal stuff about the Crowne estate,” Jenn said. “Deed, title, whatever. Hell, I can probably get an intern to do that.”

“Might be useful,” Jesse said.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Jenn said. “Now I’m going in to the bedroom and pat Amber on the shoulder for a little bit.”

“Maternal impulse?” Jesse said.

“Damned if I know,” Jenn said, and went inside.

Jesse put his feet up on the railing and looked at the harbor. Across it the lights were going on in houses along Paradise Neck. Suppers were being cooked. Spouses were having a cocktail together while it cooked. Jesse looked at his moisture-beaded glass. He liked the look of it with the dark gold booze and the translucent silver ice. Still half-full. And he could have another if he wished. Two drinks was reasonable. And after the two drinks, he and Jenn and maybe Amber would have supper in a not distasteful caricature of the lives being lived across the harbor.

I wonder how much Crow drinks, Jesse thought.

50.

“It was Crow,” Francisco said on the phone.

“I didn’t see him,” Romero said.

“It was Crow,” Francisco said. “Forget about him. Get Amber and bring her home.”

“He killed Larson,” Romero said.

“There’s a million other Larsons,” Francisco said. “Bring the kid home.”

“I don’t like having some guy shoot one of my people and walk away,” Romero said.

“I don’t give a fuck what you like. Farm Crow out to the local gangbangers. Bring the kid home now.”

“How much to the gangbangers?” Romero said.

“Ten, same as if they brought the kid home.”

“Ten?” Romero said. “To kill Crow?”

“That’s more money than they can even count,” Francisco said. “How many are there?”

“Maybe a dozen,” Romero said.

“So if Crow kills a few, no sweat,” Francisco said. “Still plenty left to do the job.”

“Ten grand,” Romero said.

“And they’ll be happy to get it,” Francisco said. “Turn Crow over to them. Bring the kid home. We got a lot of business to do down here.”

“Okay, Lou,” Romero said.

The phone went dead. Romero folded his cell phone and slid it back in his pants pocket. He looked at the other two men, Bobby Chacon and a guy named Mongo Estella, for whom Bobby had to translate.

“We give the Crow hit to Esteban,” Romero said to Bobby. “And bring the girl home.”

“We know where the girl is?” Bobby said.

“No,” Romero said.

Bobby nodded and spoke to Mongo in Spanish. Romero started the Escalade.

“First thing,” Romero said, “we make the deal with Esteban and his people.”

“You think they good enough?” Bobby said.

“No. But they are maybe crazy enough. Crazy might work better than good, with Crow.”

Bobby nodded.