‘He’s good,’ Franky said. ‘I mean, in a Pizza Hut commercial you can’t tell if the guy’s gonna be the next Bobby De Niro, know what I mean, but you can tell he knows how to act. He’s got that whatchamacallit, too. Star quality. The guy’s definitely got star quality.’

  ‘Hey, you hear he’s gettin’ married?’ Carlos asked.

  Ryan had climbed to the top of a stepladder, and now he stumbled, nearly falling off it.

  ‘Whoa, you okay?’ Franky said.

  ‘Yeah, man,’ Carlos said. ‘You all right?’

  ‘The fuck’re you talking about?’ Ryan said to Carlos.

  ‘What?’ Carlos said.

  ‘Who’s getting married?’ Ryan said.

  ‘J.T.,’ Carlos said. ‘It said so in the paper. He’s marrying his high school sweetheart or some shit.’

  Ryan’s legs buckled, and he felt light-headed. He started losing his balance again, and Franky had to rush over and grab him by the waist to keep him from falling.

  ‘Whoa, what’s wrong with you, man?’ Franky said.

  ‘Where?’ Ryan said to Carlos. ‘What paper?’

  ‘Daily News,’ Carlos said. ‘Hold up - I’ll show you.’

  Carlos went into the dining room and returned with a folded newspaper. Ryan got off the stepladder and took the paper from him. First he looked at the picture of Jake picking up Christina and kissing her, taken when Christina arrived at the party last night, and then he saw the headline: ‘J.T. to Wed!’

  He stared at the short article for several seconds, unable to think or see clearly. He felt like he’d just left the eye doctor’s office with his eyes dilated and then someone sneaked up behind him and hit him on the head with a sledgehammer. Finally he was able to read random portions of the article - ‘a sad day for single girls,’ ‘bachelor days behind him,’ ‘announced he will wed his high school sweetheart, Christina Mercado, next winter,’ - and portions of quotes from Jake - ‘both very excited about this,’ ‘our wedding is going to be magical,’ ‘we hope the public respects our privacy.’

  Ryan was outside, calling Christina at work. He was so frazzled and dazed that he didn’t remember anything about the ten or so seconds it must have taken him to leave the house and make the call. He kept telling himself that there had to be some mistake; the article couldn’t be true. Even if something had happened between Jake and Christina last night, if they had decided to stay engaged, the news about their wedding plans couldn’t have made it into the papers so quickly.

  ‘Hey, it’s Ryan. Is Christina there?’

  ‘Urn, no,’ Allison said, ‘not yet.’

  Ryan knew she was lying.

  ‘Just put her the fuck on

  ’ ‘But she’s not here.

  ’ ‘Put her on the fucking phone,’ Ryan said, nearly screaming.

  ‘It’s a fucking emergency, all right?’

  After a pause Allison said, ‘Hold on.’

  Ryan started pacing back and forth along the sidewalk. He kept telling himself, Stay calm, but he couldn’t.

  Allison came back and said, ‘I just checked. She’s not here yet.

  ’ ‘Did she tell you to screen my calls?

  ’ ‘What?’

  Ryan clicked off and headed toward his car. He reached into the pockets of his painting pants, so angry and distracted that it took him a few seconds to realize that his car keys were in his jeans, inside the house.

  He returned to the house, going right upstairs and changing back into his jeans and Lott jersey.

  Franky came into the room and said, ‘What’s the matter?

  ’ Ryan pushed past him, heading toward the stairs.

  ‘Hey, where the hell you goin’?’

  Ryan left the house, got in his car, and sped away.

  He ran a red on Avenue U, just missing a laundry truck. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his heart was pounding.

  He zipped along the Belt Parkway, weaving in and out of traffic, almost crashing into the railing and into other cars several times. He excited at Bay Parkway. Several minutes later he arrived at McDonald Avenue and left the car double-parked in front of the dental office where Christina worked.

  The office was on the second floor, above a pizza place. He took the stairs two at a time, then pressed the button on the intercom. When he was buzzed in he bypassed the waiting area and the desk where Allison was seated. ‘Hey, wait, where’re you going?’ she said, but he ignored her and went down toward the short hallway, toward the examination rooms.

  He opened the door to one room where Dr Hoffman, the dentist, and Lisa, another hygienist, were working on a patient. They were wearing surgical masks and Dr Hoffman had goggles on.

  Dr Hoffman, who knew Ryan, said, ‘Yes?’ looking surprised and sounding angry.

  ‘Where’s Christina?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Look, I’m busy here,’ Dr Hoffman said. ‘You can’t just come in here and—’

  ‘Ryan.’

  Ryan turned around and saw Christina standing there. He knew, just looking at her, that it was all true.

  Dr Hoffman said, ‘Christina, you’re gonna have to take this outside.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Christina said.

  ‘What’s going on with this shit?’ Ryan said.

  ‘Ryan, please—’

  ‘What the fuck happened last night? Did you fuck him? Is that what happened? Did you fuck that asshole?’

  The patient, a middle-aged woman who seemed out of it, was looking over.

  ‘Christina,’ Dr Hoffman said angrily.

  Christina pulled Ryan away by the arm, and then Ryan jerked free.

  ‘I want you to say it to my face,’ Ryan said. ‘Say it’s all true.’

  ‘Let’s go outside.’

  ‘Say it. Say it right here.’

  Christina stared at Ryan. She was crying.

  ‘I can’t believe you did this to me,’ Ryan said. ‘Why? What the hell is wrong with you?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’re sorry?’ He was yelling. ‘You lie to me, you tell me all this bullshit, saying you love me, saying we’re gonna be together—’

  ‘I do love you.’

  ‘Bullshit! You lied to me! You lied to my fucking face!’

  Dr Hoffman poked his head out of the office and said, ‘I want this outside - right now.’

  ‘You’re gonna get me fired,’ Christina said.

  ‘What do you care? You got Jake’s money now. What do you need this stupid job for?’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Christina said, then walked ahead of Ryan toward the waiting room. She left the office and started toward the stairs that led to the street, when Ryan grabbed her arm from behind at the top of the landing.

  ‘What did he say to you?’ Ryan said. ‘What fuckin’ lies did he tell you?’

  ‘He didn’t tell me any lies.’

  ‘Something must’ve happened last night. He must’ve laid it on real good, but you can’t believe anything he tells you. You know how full of shit he is. I know you wouldn’t fall for that. You’re way too smart for that shit.’

  ‘It’s complicated.’ More tears dripped down her cheeks.

  ‘What’s complicated? You were supposed to break up with him and stay with me. Is it money? Because if you’re worried about money, I’m telling you I’m gonna make it someday. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, if it’ll be my painting business or something else, but I know I’ll have money someday. I won’t have as much as Jake, but I’ll have enough to—’

  ‘It’s not about money.’

  ‘Then what is it? I know you don’t love him.’

  ‘That’s not true, I .. . I mean, we’ve been together for a long time and it’s not easy to .. . I mean, I feel like I have to give it a chance to—’

  ‘You’re so full of shit.’ Ryan was raising his voice again. ‘You know he’s a scumbag, that he treats you like shit, but you just wanna stay with him for the money. That’s all you care about -his goddamn bank account!’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘What the hell were you doing with me for ten fuckin’ months, huh? Were you just using me, trying to get him to get off the pot to marry you?’

  ‘Come on,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘You know it wasn’t like that.’

  Ryan pulled his arm away, said, ‘Then what was it like? I mean, I know what you’ve been telling me, but I guess I was an idiot for believing any of that.’

  Christina was crying harder now, her lips trembling.

  ‘I really didn’t want to hurt you,’ she said slowly, struggling to get the words out.

  ‘Bullshit. You couldn’t even tell me to my face. I had to read about it in the fucking newspaper.’

  ‘I have no idea how it got into the papers - I swear to God. I just got here, and Dr Hoffman said congratulations, and I was like, “What’re you talking about?” I called you, but I hung up - I didn’t know what to say. Please - please don’t hate me. I still love you. I know that’s hard for you to believe, but I really do love you. I’m just in a really complicated situation right now. I mean, you knewr that all along - you knew I was engaged, and I really did want to be with you, but I also feel like I have to give me and Jake a chance. It might not work out, but I just have to see. And I’m really, really sorry you had to read about it in the newspaper. Jake must’ve called them last night or something and told them - I honestly had no idea. . . . But, look, we should talk about this. Maybe we could, like, meet for coffee later, or maybe we could have dinner or . . . Why won’t you look at me?’

  Ryan, who’d been staring at the floor, looked up at Christina standing there, crying, with her back to the stairs, and imagined pushing her. It would be so easy - just one little push and she’d go tumbling backward.

  He stood there for a few more seconds, staring into her eyes, hating her.

  Then he said, ‘Just stay the fuck away from me,’ and he went by her and headed down the stairs.

  He was hoping she’d say, ‘Wait, come back,’ or, ‘Don’t go,’ or something to show she gave a shit. But she said nothing - zippo. She just let him walk out to the street as if she didn’t care whether she saw him again or not.

  A meter maid was standing in front of Ryan’s car, writing a ticket. She handed it to him, explaining that he was parked illegally. Without an argument, Ryan snatched it and drove away.

  A few minutes later, as he drove along Bay Parkway, it hit him. Christina was gone, really gone - they might never even talk to each other again. How could everything have turned to shit so quickly? Just yesterday, at her place, she was saying all those things about how great it would be when Jake was out of the picture, about how much she loved Ryan and wanted to be with him forever, and now she was back with Jake. How could she have done this to him? How could she be so sick and heartless?

  Ryan managed to drive a few more blocks, but then he couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled over, sobbing, with his head resting against the steering wheel. After his baseball career ended he had cried on and off for weeks, but this pain was much worse. Christina had meant everything to him. When he was down and out and had nothing left, she had given him hope, a reason to live. But now she was gone, and that hope was gone too. He wanted to take pills, slit his wrists, jump in front of a subway, end his stupid fucking life.

  He continued to sob, occasionally pounding the dashboard with his fists. His beeper started vibrating. He wasn’t going to check it, but then he realized it could be Christina.

  He looked at the display, angry to see Franky’s number flashing. How could she not call him? How could she not give a shit? What the hell was wrong with her?

  He stopped crying, wiping the tears off his cheeks with his forearms. He was angry at himself for losing control, for being weak. He remembered standing in front of Christina on the landing, listening to her ‘explain’ why she’d treated him like total dogshit and feeling like he wanted to push her down the stairs.

  Franky beeped him again and he turned the beeper off. He didn’t give a shit about work - he didn’t give a shit about anything.

  He started the car, made a sharp U-turn, and headed back toward the dental office. Lie was imagining going in there, grabbing her, taking her someplace, and beating the living hell out of her.

  He pulled over again. With his eyes closed he took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down.

  After a couple of minutes he made another U-turn and drove away. He put on 50 Cent with the volume all the way up and kept going. He had no idea where he was going - he just wanted to keep moving. He took Flatbush to downtown Brooklyn, and then he drove through the streets of Williamsburg and Bed-Stuy. He drove through parts of Brooklyn he’d never been to before, slums where white boys got killed if their cars broke down, and then wound up in Queens, and on Long Island. Eventually, after he’d been riding around for about two hours, he returned to Brooklyn and drove through East New York back toward Canarsie.

  He was tired, empty, numb, and nauseous, and he wanted to go home, get into bed, and sleep for a very long time, maybe forever. Then he turned onto East Eighty-first Street and saw the crowd in front of Jake’s house, and that huge banner still hanging over the street, and he felt the blood rushing to his head again.

  Without realizing what he was doing, he screeched to a stop, backed out onto Flatlands Avenue, and started speeding toward Christina’s office. Then, after going about ten blocks, he decided he had to get a grip and he pulled into a spot near Cousin’s, a sports bar his father used to take him to on Sundays to watch football games. It had just opened for the day, and there was only one old drunk at the far end of the bar. Ryan sat at the other end and the bartender came over.

  ‘What can I get you?’ the bartender asked.

  Ryan recognized him. His name was Mike and he’d been working there for years.

  ‘Rum and Coke - heavy on the rum,’ Ryan said. Then he handed Mike a MasterCard and said, ‘Start a tab.’

  ‘You got it,’ Mike said.

  Mike brought the drink, and Ryan sucked it down like there was no rum in it and ordered another. After he chugged the second drink, Mike said to him, ‘You feeling okay, guy?’

  ‘Just get me another,’ Ryan said, already slurring.

  Mike stared at him for a couple of seconds, then went and made the third drink.

  Ryan finished it in several gulps and immediately held up the empty glass and shook it, signaling for number four.

  ‘Let’s take it easy now,’ Mike said. ‘Maybe you want to wait ten, fifteen minutes and—’

  ‘Just make it,’ Ryan said.

  ‘I want you to slow down, buddy. You’re drinking way too .. . Wait a sec - I know you, don’t I? You’re Rocco Rossetti’s kid.’

  ‘Wrong,’ Ryan said.

  ‘No, come on, you’re Ryan Rossetti - the baseball player.’ ‘Okay, that’s me, but I’m not a baseball player anymore; I’m a house painter. Can I just get that drink?’

  ‘I thought you looked familiar when you walked in here. I just couldn’t place the face. You haven’t been by here in a long time, huh?’

  Ryan was getting drunk, but the rum wasn’t lessening his rage. He needed another drink fast.

  ‘Few years,’ Ryan said. ‘Can you just—’

  ‘You used to be buddies with Jake Thomas, right?’ Mike said. ‘I remember your old man coming in here, talking about you two all the time, and he’d show me all the articles about you guys in the papers. You got drafted by who? St Louis?’

  ‘Cleveland,’ Ryan said.

  ‘Right, the Cleveland Indians. Yeah, your old man was real proud of you - never shut up about you, matter of fact. Hey, your old buddy Jake’s in town, ain’t he? Read about it in the paper -they had some big party for him yesterday, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Ryan said, ‘but—’

  ‘Guy’s some ballplayer,’ Mike said. ‘Can do it all - hits, runs, and the ladies love him. The guy’s got a charmed life, don’t he?’

  Ryan stared at his drink.

  ‘So what’s up with you, anyway?’ Mike asked. ‘Why’re you sucking down the rum and Cokes like you’re going to the chair?’

  ‘I’m just thirsty.’

  ‘Come on, I been tendin’ bar long enough to know when a guy’s got something on his mind, and you definitely got something on your mind. You can tell me all about it - I’m a real good listener.’

  Ryan didn’t feel like talking, then decided maybe it was a good idea. Maybe it would help get all of the sick ideas out of his head.

  ‘Okay, you really want to know,’ Ryan said, ‘my girlfriend just dumped my ass, all right? She swore we were gonna be together forever; then she just flat-out dumped me.’

  This didn’t come out the way Ryan meant it to. It didn’t sound serious enough. It sounded like he was some brokenhearted high school kid.

  ‘Look, I’m sure this girl was real special and everything,’ Mike said, ‘but trust me when I say this - no woman is worth it.’

  Ryan was going to go on, explain that this wasn’t any woman; this was Christina Mercado, Jake Thomas’s fiancee. He was going to tell him how he’d been in love with her since kindergarten, and how they’d planned to spend the rest of their lives together until he read in the newspaper this morning that she and Jake had set a wedding date. But he knew he’d just be wasting his time, that Mike would never understand. Everybody loved Jake. Jake was a hero - he could do no wrong. If anything Mike would feel sorry for Jake for almost losing his fiancee to some other guy.

  ‘Never mind,’ Ryan said. ‘How ‘bout just bringing me that refill?’

  ‘Drinking’s not gonna get your girl back,’ Mike said.

  ‘I just need one more. I’m not driving, and I know how to handle my liquor. It’s not a big deal.’

  Mike thought it over for a few seconds, then said, ‘All right, but you better nurse this one or I’m cutting you off.’

  Mike made the new drink and brought it over. Ryan took a sip, then rested the glass on the bar and looked around. The guy at the end of the bar had left, so now Ryan was the only customer. Old-fart music, maybe Tony Bennett, was playing at a low volume, and the air was musty, making it hard to breathe. Ryan looked in the mirror behind the bar and saw himself sitting with his shoulders slumped, looking bitter and depressed.