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were there?”
    “Just lucky, I guess. Apparently the pawn shop owner kept his promise and called them yesterday after Luca left.”
    “So he did believe what Luca said about an old man and the coin. How did he know it was Vitelli?”
    “Luca said he walked by every day.”
    “Yeah, he did.”
    “Something’s not right, Mack. The old guy was pretty tore up, pretty upset, although he was hiding it as much as he could. I mean, I understand the strain of getting tied up and all, but I think there’s more than what it looks like on the surface.”
    “Are you sure you’re all right? You sound exhausted.”
    “I’m wrung out, that’s all. How’s the kid?”
    “Kid’s all right. Come out here, I miss you.”
    “I don’t know if I have the energy, Mack.”
    “All you need to do is get in the car. I’ll make dinner. Let’s rent a couple of movies. You can choose.”
    “I’ll want to drink some wine tonight, and it wouldn’t be good to drive home that way.”
    “Spend the night and you won’t have to.”
    “Not with Luca there, it wouldn’t feel right.”
    “You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. If you keep resisting, I’ll just chalk it up to suspicion you don’t want me to get a look at that eye.”
    She’d forgotten all about it. Her hand came up to her face and she winced at her own touch. He must have heard her groan, because his voice went stern with his next words.
    “You should have somebody look at it, Genny.”
    “All right, you can take a look. I’ll be there about three, how’s that?”
    “I didn’t mean me, wiseacre.”
    “I’m fine, really. Nothing a bottle of Jack wouldn’t cure.”
    “How about a bottle of red wine instead?”
    “I suppose that will do. Two would be better, though.”
    “Okay, we’ll see you then.”
    “We? Already with the ‘we?’”
    “I meant me and Stella and the cat.”
    She laughed and said goodbye, then thumbed in Oliver’s number.
    “Hey Liv. I’m home.”
    “Where’ve you been? No, never mind. Can you come up?”
    “I’m on my way.”
    She hiked down to the elevator and rode up to the seventh floor. Livvie’s fuchsia front door was unlocked, and she went in.
    “In the bedroom,” he called.
    She found him in the midst of a sea of women’s clothing. From the looks of it, he was about to drown. Oliver had announced last summer that he was finished dressing like a woman, and was just going to be a gay man again. Giving away his feminine gear was the final step, and the semi-move south had been the catalyst to go through everything he owned.
    “These are for you. Size twelves, they’ll all fit.” He didn’t look up, just indicated an enormous stack of garments. “I’ve saved some things for Bree, too, but she’s on assignment in Haiti, so I’m going to take them down the hall and leave them for her.”
    “She’ll be sad she missed seeing you off.”
    He tilted his head and pulled a face, still sorting through the piles. “Don’t be dramatic, Genny, that’s my thing. Mostly all Bree and I get to do anymore is talk on the phone, anyway. We’re used to having a long-distance friendship.”
    Then he raised his eyes to hers. “Oh. My. God. Genevieve Delacourt. You better tell me you got that jumping on a bed.”
    “Okay. I got this roughhousing with Mack.”
    “Don’t lie to me.”
    She threw up her hands and gave him a look that was halfway between what do you want from me and let it go .
    Oliver came over and took her by the hand, then led her into his bathroom. “Take a good look,” he said.
    Gen was taken aback when she caught sight of her face. The area around her left eye was swollen like an eggplant and about the same color. Burst blood vessels were slowly coloring the area red-purple in a circular pattern.
    Yeah, it was a beaut.
    “Look at yourself, Genny. A walking oxymoron. Great hair, good bod, nice outfit, black eye. What’s wrong with this picture?”
    She got over her shock and grinned in the