The Axeman's Jazz

think she was right about any of the stuff she said—about your not being perfect?”
    “I don’t know if I really want to talk about that.”
    “Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t blame you. I was thinking you were being awfully forthcoming for someone talking to a stranger.”
    “You mean I don’t have to?”
    “Don’t have to what?”
    “Talk about this stuff. I thought women expected it. It’s supposed to make us seem vulnerable or something.”
    Skip failed in all attempts to avoid laughing. “Sorry,” she said when she had gained control, “but you don’t seem at all vulnerable to me.”
    He made a fist and set it sideways on the table. “You know, I don’t know what to do with you. I thought women liked to talk about themselves, so I tried to talk about you. I know they love to hear personal stuff, so I tried that. What the hell else am I supposed to do?”
    “You don’t have to be vulnerable to be attractive.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I just want to get to know you. You don’t have to present some kind of false identity to get me to like you. We could just have a little quiet conversation, maybe.”
    “I’ve already gone through all my subjects.”
    ”No you haven’t. You could tell me about your children.”
    “What’s to tell? Two lovely daughters. Real smart. Pretty.”
    “Names?”
    “Why should I tell you their names?”
    She wondered if a lot of his dates walked out in the middle of dinner and hailed the nearest taxi.
    But probably none of the others have been cops. I could just pull out my gun and shoot him.
    It was tempting, but instead she took a deep breath. “Oh, hell, let’s talk about us.”
    He looked so shocked it was almost worth it. She said, “Are you dating anyone else?”
    “I’m not even dating you.”
    “I got a good recommendation on you. I hear you date a lot of women from that inner-child group.”
    “Tell me something—will you just tell me something? Why do women think this kind of stuff is any of their business?”
    “I really like you, Abe. I’m just trying to find out what you’re all about. Isn’t that reasonable?”
    He looked wary. “What do you want to know?”
    She smiled, trying to look as pleasant and non-threatening as a six-foot cop can look. “Oh, where you live, for instance. What part of town and whether you like it there.”
    “I can’t take this. I just can’t take it.” He flung down his napkin and strode out, possibly to fling himself in front of an oncoming car. It didn’t occur to Skip to follow. She ordered coffee and peanut-butter pie, hoping he wouldn’t be joining her.
    If it had been a genuine date, she probably would have been close to tears, but in the circumstances she could hardly keep from laughing alone and loudly, making a perfect spectacle of herself.
    She made a mental note to phone Steve Steinman first thing in the morning. Thank God her real life—as opposed to her professional one—didn’t require any Awful Abes or even Exciting Alexes. As Cindy Lou had said, teddy bears were so good for the inner child….
    Abe slipped back into his chair, face washed, hair combed. “I guess I kind of blew the evening, huh?”
    “
Au contraire
. ‘Memorable’ is exactly the way I’d describe it.”
    “Listen, my wife always tried to get me to to ‘open up’—that’s what she called it, ‘open up,’ like a dentist. I don’t know what it is—when women start asking me questions, I just freak.”
    “I can ask non-threatening questions. I promise.”
    “No you can’t. No woman can—I mean it’s not about them, it’s about me.”
    “Abe. How about those Saints?”
    “What does that mean?”
    “What do you mean what does that mean? All I said was, how about those Saints?”
    He looked at the table, apparently truly embarrassed. “I don’t follow baseball.”
    “Or any sports, I gather.”
    “How’d you know that?”
    “Just a guess. Here’s one: Seen any good movies lately?”
    “No, wait. Why’d you say that about sports? You don’t think I’m very masculine, do you?”
    Are you kidding? I barely think you’re human.
    “Of course I do—it’s just that the Saints are a football team. So that was a clue.” She felt as if she were talking to a child. What on earth was wrong with this man?
    But of course she knew. His inner child was a big fat mess.
    On the way back to their cars, Abe reminded her that she was going to tell him why they should pretend they