Stranger in Paradise

53.

Suit was outside Jesse’s condo in a squad car. Molly was inside, reading The New York Times. Amber sat crosslegged on the floor in front of the television, watching an inside Hollywood show on E! Amber was bored. She shifted her position, fiddled with her hair, yawned loudly.

“You married?” she said to Molly.

“Yes.”

“What’s your old man do?”

“My husband builds boats,” Molly said.

“Any money in that?” Amber said.

“Some.”

“So how come you work?”

“I like to work,” Molly said.

“As a cop?” Amber said.

“I like being a cop,” Molly said.

Amber shook her head sadly.

“You got kids?”

“Four,” Molly said.

“Any daughters?”

“One,” Molly said.

“You ever fool around?”

“You mean like sex?” Molly said.

“Like, duh?” Amber said. “Of course sex.”

“Might be none of your business,” Molly said.

Amber shrugged.

“So did ya?” she said.

Molly thought for a moment about the way Crow seemed to look through her clothes. She felt her face flush slightly.

“You did, didn’t you?” Amber said.

“No,” Molly said. “I have never cheated on my husband.”

“Why not?” Amber said. “Doesn’t it get boring doing it with the same guy every day?”

Molly smiled.

“When you’ve been married fourteen years, and you both work, and you got four kids, it’s not every day,” Molly said.

“Man, you’re as drab as Jesse,” Amber said. “You have any fun before you got married?”

“I got married pretty early,” Molly said.

“Jesus,” Amber said. “Tell me you weren’t a freaking virgin.”

“No,” Molly said. “I wasn’t a virgin.”

“Christ, I hope not,” Amber said. “You think you might fool around sometime?”

“I have no long-range plan,” Molly said. “I’m pretty sure I won’t fool around today.”

Amber looked at the big picture of Ozzie Smith behind the bar.

“Who’s the black guy?” Amber said.

“That’s Ozzie Smith,” Molly said. “He’s in the Baseball Hall of Fame.”

“So why’s his picture here?”

“I guess Jesse admires him,” Molly said.

“How come?”

“Jesse used to be a ballplayer,” Molly said. “He was a shortstop, like Ozzie.”

“Jesse played baseball?”

“In the minor leagues,” Molly said. “He hurt his shoulder and had to stop.”

“Bummer,” Amber said. “And he ends up a cop.”

“I think he likes being a cop,” Molly said.

“How come?”

“He’s good at it,” Molly said.

“That’s all?”

“That’s enough,” Molly said.

“Is that why you like it?”

“Yeah,” Molly said. “Yeah, it is.”

They were quiet for a time. The gossip program gurgled on.

“Must be why I like screwing,” Amber said.

“Because you’re good at it?” Molly said.

“The best,” Amber said.

“My husband always says the worst sex he ever had was great,” Molly said.

“What’s that mean?”

“Maybe everybody’s good at it,” Molly said.

Amber was silent for a time. Then she shrugged.

“What’s the difference,” she said.