said, looking at me as if I were a pastrami sandwich and he were a starving Jew.
âWhat aboutââ I said, feeling as if someone else were speaking through my mouth. It was probably the echo from all the tile.
âWhat about this evening?â he said.
âIâm busy.â
âMe, too. I have to take my grandmother shopping. But I could meet you afterward, at ten, say.â
Apparently Paul Born in the USA Wilcox was no banana, the Asian equivalent of an Oreo.
âShould I come up or wait for you downstairs?â he asked.
âDownstairs?â
âBank and West, isnât it? Two buildings in from the corner, south side of theââ
âOh, that downstairs.â
âThat is where youâll be, isnât it?â
I nodded.
âIâm coming prepared to talk. Et tu, Dog Paddle?â
I could feel his breath on my face.
âIâll be prepared to listen,â I said.
âThatâs a start,â he said.
He put his hands on the edge of the pool and hoisted himself up and out of the water. I put my hands on the edge, too, but before I could propel myself out of the pool, Paul Wilcox did it for me. He had taken my wrists, and then there I was, standing too close to him, rivulets of chlorinated water running down my thighs and onto the wet tile beneath my bare feet.
âGod,â he said, his voice suddenly husky, âyour hair does the same thing Lisaâs did when it got wet.â
His was jet black and thick. It stood straight up when it was wet, in spiky little clumps.
âAnother family thing?â he asked, his voice soaked with sadness.
I pulled my hands away and brushed the hair off my face.
âNah, itâs a Jew thing. We all have curly hair and big noses.â Big Nose was what the Chinese called Caucasians.
He smiled and ran his finger down my nose. âYour nose isnât so big. Itâs just about perfect,â he said.
âYeah, yeah,â I said. Next thing heâd be telling me I was a hard-boiled egg, white on the outside, yellow on the inside, a Caucasian with an Oriental soul. Like my cousin.
Iâd forgotten how dark his eyes were.
He turned and headed for the menâs locker room.
For a moment in the pool, heâd seemed so angry, Iâd been afraid he was going to push me under. But that couldnât have been my real fear. Hell, my sister did that all the time when we were kids. The real threat was becoming sucked in. The real fear was that something about this man was making me lose my objectivity, even my judgment.
âWait,â I shouted at his back.
âYou bellowed?â He came back to where I was standing.
âAbout tonight,â I said. Avi had said heâd have a surprise for me. I thought he might be ready to talk. âI canât meet you tonight. How aboutââ
âHow about now? Iâm ready for lunch.â
âLunch?â I said, as if I were a parrot.
He simply waited.
âOkay, lunch. That sounds fine.â
I had to talk to the man. He was an important source. Lunch was better than the deep end of the pool. For one thing, Iâd be dressed. Suddenly, lunch sounded safe, it sounded perfect. What the hell could happen at lunch? I asked myself, feeling smug now, as if it had been my idea all along.
âItâll take me ten minutes to get dressed. Can you wait that long? You seem to be a pretty impulsive person.â He picked up a corkscrew strand of my wet hair, shook his head, then let it go and headed for the locker rooms.
âIâll meet you at the front door,â I said to his back, watching his adorable little tochis as he walked away. âIn seven minutes. Donât keep me waiting.â
Iâm not one for fussing. I was showered, dressed, and in front of the gym in six minutes.
âWe can go right across the street,â Paul said a moment later, not breaking stride as he joined me on the steps and swept
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