Harlan Coben - One False Move

The image of a steamroller approaching a bruised peach flashed through his mind.

«Er, a Yoo-Hoo would be great.»

«Right away.» Big Cyndi bounced toward the refrigerator. Myron moved toward Esperanza.

«She does give a great backrub,» Esperanza said.

«I’ll take your word for it.»

«I told Big Cyndi you were the one who wanted to hire her full-time.»

Myron nodded. «Next time,» he said, «just let me pull a thorn out of her paw, okay?»

Big Cyndi held up the can of Yoo-Hoo. «Do you want me to shake it for you, Mr. Bolitar?»

«I’ll handle that, Cyndi, thanks.»

«Yes, Mr. Bolitar.» She hopped back over, and Myron was reminded of the scene where the boat flips over in the Poseidon Adventure. She handed him the Yoo-Hoo. Then she smiled again. And the gods shielded their eyes.

Myron spoke to Esperanza. «Any more word on Lester’s trade?»

«No.»

«Get me Ron Dixon on the phone. Try his home number.»

Big Cyndi took that one. «Right away, Mr. Bolitar.»

Esperanza shrugged. Big Cyndi dialed and used her English accent. She sounded like Maggie Smith in a Noel Coward play. Myron and Esperanza went into his office. The call was transferred.

«Ron? It’s Myron Bolitar, how are you?»

«I know who the hell this is, moron. Your receptionist told me. It’s Sunday, Myron. Sunday is my day off. Sunday is my family day. My quality time. My chance to get to know the kids better. So why are you calling me on a Sunday?»

«Are you trading Lester Ellis?»

«That’s why you’re calling me at home on a Sunday?»

«Is it true?»

«No comment.»

«You told me you wouldn’t trade him.»

«Wrong. I told you I wouldn’t actively put him on the block. If you recall, Mr. Super Agent, you wanted to put in a trade approval clause in his contract. I said, no, unless you wanted to shave fifty grand off his salary. You refused. Now it’s coming back and biting your ass cheek, ain’t it, hotshot?»

Myron shifted in his seat. Sore ass cheek and all. «Who are you getting for him?»

«No comment.»

«Don’t do this, Ron. He’s a great talent.»

«Yeah. Too bad he’s not a great baseball player.»

«You’re going to look foolish. Remember Nolan Ryan for Jim Fregosi? Remember Babe Ruth, uh» – Myron forgot who they got in the trade – «being traded by the Red Sox?»

«Now Lester Ellis is Babe Ruth?»

«Let’s talk about this.»

«Nothing to talk about, Myron. And now, if you’ll excuse me, the wife is calling me. It’s strange.»

«What’s that?»

«This quality time stuff. This getting to know my children better. You know what I’ve learned, Myron?»

«What?»

«I hate my kids.»

Click.

Myron looked up at Esperanza.

«Get me Al Toney at the Chicago Tribune.»

«He’s being traded to Seattle.»

«Trust me here.»

Esperanza gestured to the phone. «Don’t ask me. Ask Big Cyndi.»

Myron hit the intercom. «Big Cyndi, could you please get me Al Toney? He should be at his office.»

«Yes, Mr. Bolitar.»

A minute later Big Cyndi beeped in. «Al Toney on line one.»

«Al? Myron Bolitar here.»

«Hey, Myron, what’s up?»

«I owe you one, right?»

«At least, one.»

«Well, I got a scoop for you.»

«My nipples are hardening as we speak. Talk dirty to me, baby.»

«You know Lester Ellis? He’s being traded tomorrow to Seattle. Lester is thrilled. He’s been bugging the Yankees to trade him all year. We couldn’t be happier.»

«That’s your big scoop?»

«Hey, this is an important story.»

«In New York or Seattle maybe. But I’m in Chicago, Myron.»

«Still. I thought you might want to know.»

«No good. You still owe me.»

Myron said, «You don’t want to check with your nipples first?»

«Hold on.» Pause. «Soft as overripe grapes already. But I could check again in a few minutes, if you’d like.»

«Pass, Al, thanks. Frankly I didn’t think it would fly with you, but it was worth a try. Between you and me, the Yankees are pushing hard on this trade. They want me to put on the best spin. I thought you could help.»

«Why? Who they getting?»

«I don’t know.»

«Lester’s a pretty good player. Raw but good. Why the Yankees so interested in getting rid of him?»

«You won’t print this?»

Pause. Myron could almost hear Al’s brain awhirring. «Not if you tell me not to.»

«He’s hurt. Home accident. Damaged the knee. They’re keeping it quiet, but Lester will need surgery after the season.»

Silence.

«You can’t print it, Al.»

«No problem. Hey, I gotta go.»

Myron smiled. «Later, Al.»

He hung up.

Esperanza looked at him. «Are you doing what I think you’re doing?»

«Al Toney is the master of the loophole,» Myron explained. «He promised be wouldn’t print it. He won’t. But he works by trading favors. He’s the best barterer in the business.»

«So?»

«So now he’ll call a friend at the Seattle Times and barter. The injury rumor will spread. If it gets public before the trade is announced, well, it’s doomed.»

Esperanza smiled. «Highly unethical.»

Myron shrugged. «Let’s just say it’s fuzzy.»

«I still like it.»

«Always remember the MB SportsReps credo: the client comes first.»

She nodded and added, «Even in sexual liaisons.»

«Hey, we’re a full-service agency.» Myron looked at her for a long moment. Then he said, «Can I ask you something?»

She tilted her head. «I don’t know. Can you?»

«Why do you hate Jessica?»

Esperanza’s face clouded over. She shrugged. «Habit, I guess.»

«I’m serious.»

She crossed her legs, uncrossed them. «Let me just stick to taking cheap potshots, okay?»

«You’re my best friend,» he said. «I want to know why you don’t like her.»

Esperanza sighed, crossed the legs again, tucked a loose strand behind her ear. «Jessica is bright, smart, funny, a great writer, and I wouldn’t throw her out of bed for eating crackers.»

Bisexuals.

«But she hurt you.»

«So? She’s not the first woman to commit an indiscretion.»

«True enough,» Esperanza agreed. She slapped her knees and stood. «Guess I’m wrong. Can I go now?»

«So why do you still hold a grudge?»

«I like grudges,» Esperanza said. «They’re easier than forgiveness.»

Myron shook his head, signaled her to sit.

«What do you want me to say, Myron?»

«I want you to tell me why you don’t like her.»

«I’m just being a pain in the ass. Don’t take it seriously.»

Myron shook his head again.

Esperanza put her hand to her face. She looked away for a moment. «You’re not tough enough, okay?»

«What do you mean?»

«For that kind of hurt. Most people can take it. I can. Jessica can. Win certainly can. But you can’t. You’re not tough enough. You’re just not built that way.»

«Then maybe that’s my fault.»

«It is your fault,» Esperanza said. «At least in part. You idealize relationships too much, for one thing. And you’re too sensitive. You used to expose yourself too much. You used to leave yourself too open.»

«Is that such a bad thing?»

She hesitated. «No. In fact, it’s a good thing, I guess. A bit naive, but it’s a lot better than those assholes who hold everything back. Can we stop talking about this now?»

«I still don’t think you’ve answered my question.»

Esperanza raised her palms. «That’s as good as I can do.»

Myron flashed back to Little League again, to being hit by Joey Davito’s pitch, to never planting his feet in the batter’s box the same again. He nodded. Used to expose, Esperanza had said. «Used to.» A curious use of words.