"Glad you remember her," I said.

"Top-quality, world-class derriere."

"Yeah, I got that the first time."

Win had been my college roommate at Duke and was now my business partner and, along with Esperanza Diaz, my best friend. His real name was Windsor Horne Lockwood III, and he looked like it: thinning blond locks parted by a deity; ruddy complexion; handsome patrician face; golfer's V-neck burn; eyes the blue of ice. He wore overpriced khakis with a crease to rival the hair part, a blue Lilly Pulitzer blazer with a pink and green lining, a matching pocket hanky that puffed out like a clown's water-squirting flower.

Effete wear.

"When Terese was on TV," Win said, his snooty prep-school accent sounding as though he were explaining the obvious to a somewhat slow child, "you couldn't tell the quality. She was sitting behind the anchor desk."

"Uh-huh."

"But then I saw her in that bikini"-for those keeping score, that would be the Class-B-felony one I told you about earlier-"well, it is a wonderful asset. Wasted as an anchorwoman. It's a tragedy when you think about it."

"Like the Hindenburg," I said.

"Hilarious reference," Win said. "And oh so timely."

Win's expression was permanently set on haughty. People looked at Win and would see elitist, snobby, Old-World money. For the most part, they'd be right. But the part where they'd be wrong… that could get a man seriously maimed.

"Go on," Win said. "Finish your story."

"That's it."

Win frowned. "So when do you leave for Paris?"

"I'm not going."

On the basketball court, the second quarter began. This was fifth-grade boys' basketball. My girlfriend-the term seems rather lame but I'm not sure "lady love," "significant other," or "love monkey" really apply-Ali Wilder has two children, the younger of whom played on this team. His name is Jack, and he wasn't very good. I say that not to judge or predict future success-Michael Jordan didn't start for his high school team until his junior year-but as an observation. Jack is big for his age, husky and tall, and with that often comes lack of speed and coordination. There was a plodding quality to his athleticism.