Paolo King was sitting at the country club bar, as he often did after a training session with one of the club’s tennis students. It was late afternoon. Some kind of mellow jazz played in the background. Paolo had no clue what the tune was. He rarely heard that kind of music outside the club.
This particular student was somewhat older than the usual women who favored Paolo. She was in her forties, with perfectly styled blond hair that settled high on her neck. Her tennis skirt showed off tan, athletic legs that were crossed at the ankles.
He knew her only as “Jimmy’s mom.”
Paolo had once played a game of tennis for money with Jimmy, her idiot teenage son. He’d been tricked into swindling the kid out of a forty-thousand dollar Corvette. Even though Paolo had been basically blackmailed into the con by a guy who’d long since hit the road, Jimmy’s mom held him responsible. She’d agreed to keep the matter away from the cops, but only if she and Paolo got on real good terms.
He’d been doing a pretty good job at keeping up the pretense—minus one small detail. Somehow, her name had eluded him. She’d told him once but he’d forgotten. Now that they’d been intimate it seemed just plain rude to ask her again. Paolo had hoped that they’d never meet again. But no. Today, she’d lain in wait for him at the club.
“Your hair looks great,” Paolo said as Jimmy’s mom switched his Diet Sprite with the Tom Collins cocktail she’d ordered for herself. He picked up his new drink. “Are you sure you don’t want this?”
“Better not.” She smirked. “I’m driving.”
So was Paolo, but in this woman’s company he was wary of saying anything that might annoy her. The subject of Paolo’s age—sixteen—was a sketchy one between them, on account of how they’d slept together. Technically, it was illegal, but this wasn’t Paolo’s first time with an older woman. He was pretty sure she’d drag out the names of all those other women he’d slept with at the tennis club, if he tried to use their relationship against her. He didn’t want that.
He took a sip and tried once again to remember her name. She would be annoyed that he couldn’t remember.
“I enjoyed watching you play against your coach.” She smiled. “But my dear, it’s exhausting. I thought he had you beat for sure.”
Paolo humored her. “Victory tastes sweeter when you snatch it from the jaws of defeat.”
Jimmy’s mom would have known that if she’d stuck around to watch the whole match he’d played against her son. Darius, Paolo’s doubles partner that afternoon and the architect of the entire scam, had made sure they’d let themselves be held down, almost until the end. A classic hustle. Jimmy had fallen for it, and hard.
She gave him a long, thoughtful look. Paolo avoided looking back, feeling the full weight of the years between them. He thought back to their last encounter. He already felt uncomfortable, the way you did when a girl came on to you and you knew you were going to deny her in the end. He did it all the time with girls from school who seemed to think he was some kind of trophy—to be snatched up and displayed.
“Are you quite sure that you can’t move your class to another evening?” she asked suggestively.
Paolo’s fingers closed around his glass. “I really can’t. My student’s already here—I saw her car in the parking lot.”
She pouted. “Too bad.” There was a hesitation, as though even she had some qualms about broaching the subject of their one-time affair. Then her voice dropped. “I’ve been thinking about you, you know.” She tried to look him in the eye and couldn’t. Suddenly, she seemed almost vulnerable.
Paolo struggled to maintain an even expression. She wanted him to say something similarly flirtatious, he could tell. When she noticed his reluctance, a smile spread across her lips.
“Come along, Paolo, don’t be so bashful. We’re hardly Mrs. Robinson and Benjamin, now are we?”
His eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “And they are?”
“You never saw The Graduate?”
“The Graduate?” He shook his head and took a sip. “No.”
Jimmy’s mom sighed patiently, as though dealing with a slow but fondly regarded student. “It’s a marvelous movie, a classic. Mrs. Robinson is the bored, wealthy housewife and Benjamin is a recent college graduate, the son of her family friend. They get together. Ben’s very shy about it all, at first. And then he starts to like it. Just the way you did, Paolo, that afternoon we spent together.”
“How does it turn out?” Paolo asked, dreading the answer.
She shrugged. “Not altogether well. Benjamin runs off with Mrs. Robinson’s daughter.”
Paolo fumbled for words. This conversation was getting pretty bizarre. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. “Are . . . you not happy with Mr. . . . with Jimmy’s dad?”
She leaned back in her seat, regarding him. “Happy? Paolo, you really believe that a happily married woman takes a sixteen-year-old tennis coach to bed?”
“I guess I don’t know a lot about married people.”
She touched his hand affectionately. He found his eyes drawn inexorably to the place where her fingers had lightly landed on his.
“Why would you? You’re just a kid. Out of your head with testosterone, maybe, but that’ll calm down, in time. I’m guessing you don’t have a girlfriend?”
“Why’d you say that?” The words, too defensive, were out before he could stop himself.
She gave a curious smile.
“I don’t have a girlfriend because the girl I want isn’t interested.”
A flicker of genuine interest. “Ah. Unrequited love, is it?”
“I don’t know about love.” Paolo could hardly believe he was talking about these feelings to a predatory stranger. It was as though she’d mistaken him for one of her girlfriends, someone with whom to share a confidence. Just the same, he tried to give a helpful answer. Jimmy’s mom could still cause a lot of trouble for him. It was better to keep her on his side.
“I like this girl a lot. We kind of hooked up once and she wasn’t into it. I thought I’d be angry. But I dunno. Somehow, it just made me want her more.”
Jimmy’s mom gave a satisfied smile. “My, my. Sounds to me like your little girlfriend has you exactly where she wants you.”
“It’s not like that.” That didn’t describe Lucy Long at all. He’d had enough experience with women to be able to tell when a girl really wanted him. Lucy hadn’t shown those signs, not really. Not until she kissed him and it seemed like she finally wanted to get close to him . . . until she didn’t.
“What I think,” he said carefully, “is that she didn’t like me, not that way, at least. She only wanted to hook up with me to forget about everything else happening in our lives. The timing was all wrong.”
“Well, now,” murmured Jimmy’s mom, evidently surprised. “How unusually perceptive of you.”
She pulled out her credit card as the waiter dropped the check. Paolo craned his neck until he could make out the name on the card.
Meredith Eriksson.
Her name was Meredith. Wouldn’t even have been in his top ten guesses. Paolo sank into his seat, barely holding back a sigh of relief.
“Perhaps you need to get that girl out of your system,” she continued. “You know the saying; the best cure for an old love is a new one.”
But you and me, we can’t ever be in love, Paolo wanted to say. It had been a one-time thing only to stay out of trouble, nothing more. He nodded a little and sipped nervously at his Tom Collins, quickly thinking of a way to let her down. “Meredith,” he started, tentative with the use of her name. “You got any daughters? Maybe we can totally Mrs. Robinson this whole situation.”
“Come near my house or my family, and it’s good-bye to your tennis career,” she said, with a sharpness that felt like a slap. “And as for law school, a few calls to some lawyer friends of mine would put an end to that, Mr. King.”
Paolo played along, pretending it was a joke, but he knew it wasn’t. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” he managed to say after a while.
“All right,” she said, her tone crisper now, formal. “Paolo, where would you say this leaves us?”
He glanced up, bewildered. “Us? I thought you said . . . ?”
“I know what I said, but I expect some flexibility, naturally. Given the extent of your misdemeanor, I mean. The total cost of your little scam.”
“It wasn’t just me,” he added resentfully.
“Yours and Darius’s, then,” Meredith said, widening her eyes. “Darius was rather more effective than you at making a hasty getaway.” She leaned closer and smiled. “He’s also far less attractive.”
There it was again, the calculatingly ravenous look that made Paolo feel as though he were a strawberry cream pie.
“You cost me upward of forty thousand dollars, Paolo King. And as memorable as our afternoon was, on reflection, one time doesn’t quite cut it.”
Paolo felt himself swallowing his revulsion. He wasn’t at all sure that he could make himself go through a repeat performance.
Reluctantly, he said, “What did you have in mind?”
“I have your number. When the mood strikes me, Paolo, I’ll give you a call.” Meredith stood. “Don’t worry. I could be good for you. I suspect that when it comes to young women, you’ve a lot to learn. What we have is fun, but I wouldn’t be averse to helping you win the girl of your dreams.”
She touched his cheek thoughtfully. After a second or two, it turned into a caress. “Don’t look so worried. I guarantee that you’ll have a great time.” She leaned in like she wanted to kiss him but remembered where they were. She brought her mouth close to his ear instead and whispered, “Grow your hair longer, and use a little bit of product. You’re looking so good these days, Paolo, I could scream.”