All those grandmothers lined up at the slot machines . . . Cross
over the Delaware Bridge by Wilmington. I'm in northern Maryland, not
too far from there." She gave him directions, and they agreed to meet
around one o'clock.
"Behave yourself with the working girls," she said. "I'll see you in
two weeks."
"Bye," Oliver said.
Jacky hung up, and Oliver turned to Verdi. "I'm in trouble," he said.
At least she hadn't said anything to Francesca. He paced around the
room. What was happening? He was sliding into a life with Jacky. She
could keep him going while he looked for work; he could work anywhere.
Maybe he would do most of the cooking. What would it be like to wake up
next to her every morning? His head spun. What was wrong with this
picture? Anything? Something.
Atlantic City. When Oliver was confused, he tended to put himself in a
situation and see what happened. He was better at resilience than
calculation; he relied on his ability to pick himself up, dust himself
off, and learn from experience. When he tried to think about the
future, his mind turned off. He needed something more concrete to think
about. Casinos.
The next morning, he bought a book on gambling from the bookstore next
to the Victory Deli.
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