Think Twice

“Did he now?”

“He didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Noble,” Myron said. “But that’s not what happened. Dr. Nakhnikian saw Greg two months before you two ran off. Gave him a clean bill of health.” Myron switched gears, hoping a sudden change might throw her. “Do you know who Cecelia Callister is?”

“No.” Then: “Wait, the name is familiar.”

“She was a big model. She was recently murdered along with her son Clay.”

“Oh right. I read about that. What does that have to do with—?”

“The police think Greg did it. That’s why I’m here. They want to question him.”

“That makes no sense. Greg is dead.”

“Yeah, Grace, that’s not going to fly. I’ll keep digging. But worse — the cops will keep digging. Heck, Joey the Toe will keep digging. I beat them all here, but they’ll find you too. It’s just a question of time.”

“I’m telling you—”

And then from behind Myron, another voice, a familiar male voice, said, “Let it go, hon. Damn, Bolitar, you always were a stubborn son of a bitch who didn’t know when to quit.”

Myron turned around. He had a full beard now covering up his famous baby face. His straight hair had been permed to a curl. But there was no doubt.

It was Greg Downing.

Chapter Fifteen

“Yeah, look, I didn’t lie to you. I planned to run off, just like I told you.”

Greg and Myron sat at an ash-wood kitchen table. The kitchen was white, except for the raw-wood ceiling beams. The refrigerator and freezer had glass doors. Grace was working some kind of gleaming espresso machine.

“I needed to quit coaching. Just like I told you. The game... I mean, you know better than anyone, Myron. It consumes you. It takes everything you have. I had spent my life doing it. The fire just wasn’t burning anymore.”

Grace placed the coffee cup in front of Myron. Myron smiled a thanks.

“Wow, I’m sorry,” Greg said.

“Huh?”

“All that talk about being tired of the game,” he continued. “That probably sounded insensitive. I get how lucky I was. I had a long career. And... and I took that away from you. I’m sorry, man. You know that.”

Myron wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he went with, “No reason to rehash the past right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. How did you find us anyway? Or is that a state secret?”

The room filled with the aroma of top-echelon coffee beans.

Myron ignored the question. “You don’t have cancer, do you?” he said.

“No, I’m fine.”

“So what happened, Greg?”

“A lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Like quitting basketball. Like wanting to start over.”

“I got those.”

“Like meeting Grace.” He gazed up at her and smiled. She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled back. With his eyes still on her, Greg said, “Is it too corny to call her my soulmate? Doesn’t matter. She is.”

“I feel the same,” she said.

“She changed my whole life.”

They held the lovey-dovey gaze to the point where Myron almost told them to get a room, but that line would be too expected.

“So that’s the main reason I wanted to start over,” Greg said. “I fell in love.”

“Lots of people fall in love,” Myron said.

“Yeah, I know, and I would say, ‘Not like us,’ but everyone says that too.” He shifted in his chair. “Look, it’s pretty simple. Grace and I met at a time when both of us needed change. We fell hard. I’d had it with basketball. I was burnt out. So we decided to run off and travel the world for a while. We planned to do it for a year, maybe two, and then see what’s what.”

“You went to Vegas first,” Myron said.

“Right. That’s where Grace’s son lived.”

“Brian.”

“He likes to go by Bo,” Greg said. “Anyway, Bo was having problems.”

“What sort of problems?” Myron asked.

“You and I, Myron, we grew up in way different times.”

Myron waited.

Grace said, “His boyfriend was abusing him.”

“That would be Jordan Kravat.”

“Yes.”

“When you say abusing—”

“Physical, emotional, in every way,” she said.

“The boyfriend owed money to some bad people,” Greg explained. “So he was paying it back by pimping Bo out.”

“It was awful,” Grace said.

“Anyway, Grace and I wanted to help. So we flew down to Vegas. I figured that maybe I could pay off the kid’s debt, and he’d leave Bo alone. That was our plan. Make sure Bo was safe. Then, poof, we would take off for parts unknown.”

“Like we originally intended,” Grace added.

She moved to the chair next to Greg. He took her hand.

“So then what happened?” Myron asked.

“This guy Jordan. I try to talk some sense into him. But he won’t listen.”

“The mob owns him,” Grace said. “Him and his mother.” Her face started to redden. “His mother’s the real criminal.”

“Yeah, that’s where it really went sideways,” Greg said. “Jordan’s mom. I forget her name.”

“Donna,” Myron said.

They looked up at him. Then they glanced at each other.

“You know her?” Grace asked.

“We met. When I was looking for Bo.”

“She owns this mobbed-up club, you know.”

“Owned,” Myron said, stressing the past tense. “Yeah, I know.”

“She teamed up with this awful mobster.”

“Joey the Toe,” Myron said.

“Wow,” Greg said. “You’ve been busy.”