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.”
“Lucky for me then. Come on in.”
He had never made it past her foyer before. Ali walked to the kitchen. His stomach knotted. There were family photographs on the wall. Myron did a quick scan. He spotted Kevin’s face. He was in at least four different photographs. Myron didn’t want to stare, but his gaze got caught on an image of Erin. She was fishing with her dad. Her smile was heartbreaking. Myron tried to picture the girl in his basement smiling like that, but it wouldn’t hold.
He looked back at Ali. Something crossed her face.