"Yes," George said. "Yes." He walked up the stairs to the upper level.
"He's been known to burst into arias," Oliver said.
Jacky sipped her martini. "Ah . . ." She put the glass down carefully.
"I like him."
"He's a good guy," Oliver said. "Good painter." He told her about the
casting adventure, leaving out the bronze valentine.
Midway through dinner, Jacky reminded him of their last session on her
bed. "That was very special," she said. "You please me in so many ways,
Oliver." She put down her fork. "I've been transferred. That's why I
was in such a bad mood that night. We acquired a bank. I'm supposed to
run it, turn it around. I thought I could get out of it, but I
couldn't."
"Transferred?"
"Maryland," she said. "It's a promotion, really."
"Oh," Oliver said. He put down his fork. "Damn."
"Come with me." It was part command, part question.
"No--I can't." He knew it was true as soon as he said the words. Am I
crazy? he thought, looking at her closely. "It is you who are
beautiful," he said.
She tapped the fingers of one hand on the table. "Are you sure, Oliver?
Money is no problem." He nodded slowly.
"Oh, Oliver .
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