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to resign or go through the firing process. Jesse resigned. And went home and sat in his small kitchen with ice and scotch and found himself without connection or purpose. I’ll drink to that. He sat and drank scotch and the tears ran down his face.

8
    Her sister had agreed to take the kids for the night, and Carole Genest had the house to herself. Before she went to dinner with Mark she had changed the bed linens. She and Mark had had two margaritas and a bottle of white wine with dinner and they were laughing as Mark pulled the BMW sedan into her driveway and parked under the big maple tree near her side door.
    “You better lock the car,” Carole said when they got out. “I don’t think you’ll be leaving for a while.”
    As Mark beeped the lock button on his key ring, and the power locks clicked in the car, Jo Jo Genest loomed out of the shadows by the side door.
    Carole said, “Jesus.”
    “Where’s the kids?” Jo Jo said.
    “Get out of here, Jo Jo,” Carole said.
    “You gonna fuck this pipsqueak?” Jo Jo said.
    “Watch your mouth, pal,” Mark said. But he didn’t say it with conviction. Hulking before them in the half light, Jo Jo looked like a rhinoceros.
    Jo Jo put his huge hand against Mark’s face and slammed his head back against the roof of the car. Mark’s legs buckled and he staggered but remained upright, leaning on the car, clasping his head with both hands, rocking slowly from one side to another.
    “Get outta here,” Jo Jo said.
    Mark went around the car, still holding his head, got into it, and backed down the driveway, the car running off of one side of the driveway and then the other as he overcorrected, going too fast backward in the dark.
    “You son of a bitch,” Carole said. “I got a court order on you. I’m going to put you in jail, you bastard.”
    “Kids are at your sister’s, aren’t they? You stashed them there so you could come home and fuck that faggot.”
    “And if I did, what’s that to you. Don’t you get it, you jerk. We’re divorced, D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D .”
    She unlocked the side door as she talked and pushed past him into the house. He followed her.
    “Get out of my house,” she said.
    “Your house? Your fucking house? You paid for it?”
    Jo Jo kicked the side door shut with his heel.
    “I’m calling the cops,” Carole said.
    “No,” Jo Jo said. “No. I came here to talk. Lemme talk with you.”
    “Nice start to a talk,” Carole said. “Smacking my date against the car.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jo Jo said. “I just can’t stand seeing you with somebody, you unnerstand? I can’t. You and me are forever, Carole. I can’t stand it, you’re with somebody else.”
    “Well, you better get used to it, Jo Jo, because that is how it is.”
    Jo Jo felt frantic. She was killing him. How could she kill him like this.
    “I was hoping maybe, we could, you know, have sex, just one time, for old times’ sake, you know?”
    “Are you crazy? You come up here, two years we been divorced, you beat up my date and push in here and tell me you want to have sex? Get the hell out of here, Jo Jo. I’m calling the cops.”
    “Carole, please, I need it. I’m going crazy without it. Please.”
    She turned toward the phone and Jo Jo pushed her away. She tried to step around him and he grabbed her arm. She hit him with her free arm, a wild swing punch with her fist closed. He shoved her backward, away from the phone and onto the couch.
    “Please,” he said. “Please.”
    She was trying to hit him, but he held her wrists as he forced her down. She kicked at him, but it seemed to have no effect.
    “Please,” he said. “Please.”
    Her skirt was up over her thighs. He tore at her hose. His mouth pressed against hers. She tried to twist away. She punched, she kicked, she tried to bite him. But he was so oppressively strong, so irresistibly huge, that her struggles had no impact. His face was pressed against hers. She could smell liquor on his breath, or maybe it was