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"Maybe we should go inside," I said.
"It's fine, thanks."
"Do you think it's smart to jerk a guy like Tony around?"
She crossed her legs and raised her chin.
"He's got a burner turned on in his head. I wouldn't mess with his male pride," I said.
"Is there something wrong with the way I look? I wish you'd stop staring at me."
"I think you've got a guilty conscience, Kim."
"Oh you do?"
"Did you drop the dime on us?"
She watched Jess putt across the green. The red flag on the pin flapped above his head in the distance. Finally the ball clunked into the cup. My eyes never left the side of her face. She pulled her dress tight over her knee. Her hips and stomach looked as smooth as water going over stone.
"Somebody told the Man. It wasn't Lionel or Fontenot," I said.
"Do you think Tony would be taking me out for lunch if he thought I was a snitch?"
"I think only Tony knows what goes on in Tony's head. I think he likes to live on the outer edge of his envelope. Eating black speed is like sliding down the edge of a barber's razor."
"Why do you keep saying these things to me? I have nothing to tell you."
"Do you know a Vice cop named Nate Baxter?"
I could see the color in her cheeks.
"Why should I know—," she began.
"He was following you the day you were in Clete's place. This guy's a lieutenant. Why's he interested in you, Kim?"
Her eyes were wet, and her lip began to tremble.
"All right, come on now," I said.
"You're a shit."
Jess had stopped putting and was looking at us. The gray hair on his chest grew like wire out of his golf shirt.
"Maybe I'm just a little worried about you," I said.
"Leave me alone. Please do that for me."
"I'll buy you a drink inside."
"No, you stay away from me."
"Listen to me, Kim—"
She picked up her purse and walked in her high heels across the lawn toward the club. Her calves looked hard and waxed below the hem of her knit dress. Jess walked off the green with the putter hanging loosely at his side.
"What's wrong with her?" he said.
"I guess I don't know how to talk to younge
