"Weird. I won. It wasn't what I was expecting." Jacky took the crab
cake mix from the refrigerator. She turned on a burner under a Dutch
oven half full of oil. "I thought I might get into a big deal
all-or-nothing scene, a go-down-in-flames kind of thing. I brought all
my money." He told her about the pit boss and the icy focus that had
come over him and taken control. "I didn't even drink," he said. "It
was tiring, but I won."

"Very good," she said. She flicked drops of water into the oil. The
drops sizzled and danced. "You're safe now. There's a nice Sauvignon
Blanc in the refrigerator. I think it's time."

Oliver responded to her choreography. He uncorked the wine and poured
two glasses. "To us," Jacky said. Oliver clinked his glass against hers
and sipped.

"Yowzir! You must have gotten a good raise."

"Wait until you taste these," she said, lowering crab cakes into the
hot oil.

The crab cakes were delicious. "What's your secret?" Oliver asked.

"Mustard and capers," she said, pleased. The bottle was quickly empty
and they opened another. Drinking with Jacky usually made Oliver softer
and more open. Today, he began to feel focused again, revved up, not
unlike the way he had felt in Atlantic City. Jacky was smiling.

"Oh, this is so much better," she said. Let me show you the rest of the
house . . . I could use some of your special attention." She led him
through a comfortable living room and up the stairs. Oliver looked at
the ceiling in the bedroom.

"No eye bolt," he said.

Jacky giggled. "Funny you should mention that." She opened a drawer and
took out a large bolt. "I thought maybe you could help me with this.
Maybe tomorrow." She laid the bolt on the dresser. "Take your clothes
off, Oliver."

The focus inside him strengthened. He dropped his clothes at his feet
without changing expression, kicked off his shoes, took three steps,
and pulled her to him. "Aren't we strong, today," she teased. He turned
her backwards onto the bed. She fell beneath him and wrapped her legs
around him. "My fierce little man."

This was the way it was going to have to be, Oliver realized. Talk
wasn't going to do it. A counselor wouldn't work. This was their
language.

He pulled up her skirt and curved his right hand between her legs. His
left hand reached up under her head and took a fistful of hair. He
pulled her head down, immobilizing it, and rubbed slowly with his right
hand. Her shoulders strained upward tw