The Professional Part 32

We were having coffee in her kitchen on a Monday morning, before she went to work.

"So it seems," I said.

Susan was in her understated tailored suit, working attire that did its best to conceal the fact that she was gorgeous. Her makeup was quiet; her hair was neat. She wore very little jewelry. And she remained gorgeous.

"If I weren't a sophisticated psychotherapist with advanced degrees from Harvard, I might be faintly shocked," she said.

"They didn't do three-ways in Swampscott?" I said.

"When I was in high school," Susan said, "I doubt that anyone in town knew what a three-way was."

"We're not in high school anymore, Toto," I said.

"Did they know in Laramie?" Susan said. "When you were a kid?"

"Of course," I said.

"Truly?" Susan said.

"Two heifers and a seed bull," I said.

"I sometimes forget you're a man of the West," Susan said.

"Howdy."

Susan smiled. She was eating half of a whole-wheat bagel. I settled for several cinnamon donuts.

"Could you perform in a three-way?" Susan said.

"Two women and me?"

"For instance," Susan said.

"Maybe," I said. "You?"

"No," Susan said. "How about two men and a woman?"

"No," I said.

"Me, either," Susan said.

"So," I said. "Lucky we found each other."

She smiled.

"It has been my experience that at least one member of a threesome is uncomfortable with the deal," Susan said.

"So why do it?" I said.

"To please one, or both, of the other partners," Susan said. "To convince oneself of one's liberation and openness, fear of being a prude."

"Vive la prudery," I said.

Susan nodded.

"You think it can sometimes work?" I said.

"Yes," Susan said. "I think people can often successfully be in a functioning relations.h.i.+p with two other people. You know, that sort of traditional European thing. Husband, wife, and husband's mistress . . . or wife's lover . . . or all of the above."

"Menage a trois?" I said.

Susan shrugged.

"That seems to be Gary and the girls," I said.

Susan nodded.

"What do you think?" I said.

"I would have more hope for it if there was some separation," she said.

"Gary lives with one and visits the other?" I said.

"Or all three live separately," Susan said. "Despite what people say, and even believe, if they are genuinely invested in someone, it is more difficult to share that person with another than they expect."

"So it works better if you don't have to have your nose rubbed in it, so to speak," I said.

"Yes."

"Do you think it's healthy?" I said.

"Healthy is harder to pin down than it seems," Susan said.

She had slid into her professional mode-probably the suit.

"I know a number of people who maintain a happy and productive life with two partners, not under the same roof."

"Think it'll work for Gary and friends?" I said.

"There's something exploitive going on there, I think," Susan said.

"I think so, too," I said. "So?"

"No," Susan said.

"Think we should try it?"

"Who would the other guy be?" Susan said.

"Woman," I said.

"We can't even decide who'd have the extra lover," Susan said.

I nodded.

"How about neither?" I said.

Susan sipped her coffee, and put down her cup, and carefully blotted her lips with her napkin. The she looked at me and smiled widely. I put my right hand up, and she high-fived me.

"There you go," she said.

Chapter51.

BELSON AND I sat in Belson's car outside a Dunkin' Donuts on Gallivan Boulevard, drinking coffee and browsing a box of a.s.sorted donuts. I preferred the plain ones. Belson liked the ones with strawberry frosting and sprinkles.

"What kind of sissy eats strawberry-frosted donuts?" I said.

"With jimmies," Belson said.

"I had too much respect for you," I said, "even to mention the jimmies."

"Thanks," Belson said. "My poetic side."

"Um," I said.

"You know that Jackson's widow has moved in with your boy Goran?"

"And his girlfriend," I said.

"What the f.u.c.k is that about?" Belson said.

"Love?" I said.

Belson looked at me as if I had just spit up.

"They did the will," Belson said. "She is now worth eighty million, seven hundred, and twenty-three bucks."

"More or less," I said.

"That's the number they gave me," Belson said. "I a.s.sume it's rounded to the nearest dollar."

"Might explain why Estelle and Gary have welcomed her into their home," I said.

"But why does she want to go?" Belson said.

"Why do most people do anything?" I said.

"Love or money, or variations on either," Belson said.

"She don't seem to need money," I said.

"So we're back to love," Belson said.

"But you don't like it," I said.

"I don't see that broad doing anything for love," Belson said.

"You don't like Beth?" I said.

"I think she killed her husband," Belson said.

"Not herself," I said.

"No, but there's people who'll do anything you need if you have money."

"She didn't have it until her husband died," I said.

"So maybe she got a trusting hit guy," Belson said.

"Like who?" I said.

Belson shrugged.

"Don't know any trusting hit guys," he said.

We were quiet. Belson ate the last strawberry-frosted.

"Love and money," he said.

"Or s.e.x and money," I said.

"Same thing," Belson said.

"You think they took it out in trade?" I said.

"It's what she's got," Belson said.

"And it's gotten her this far," I said.

"So it's a theory," Belson said.