"You're being simplistic, Win."

"It is simple, my friend."

They both settled back. Myron stared up at the exposed beams. Aiter some time, he said, "You have it wrong."

"How so?"

Myron wondered how to explain it. "W'hen I played basketball," he began, "I mean, when I really got into it and reached these levels you're talking about I barely thought about the score. I barely thought about my opponent or about beating somebody. I was alone. I was in the zone. This is going to sound stupid, but playing at the top of my game was almost Zen-like."

Win nodded. "And when did you feel this way?"

"Pardon?"

"When did you feel your most to use your word Zen?"

"I don't follow."

' 'Was it at practice? No. Was it during an unimportant game or when your team was up by thirty points? No.

What brought you to this sweat-drenched state of Nirvana, my friend, was competition. The desire the naked need to defeat a top-level opponent."

Myron opened his mouth to counter. Then he stopped.

Exhaustion was starting to take over. ' 'I'm not sure I have an answer to that," he said. "At the end of the day, I like to win. I don't know why. I like ice cream too. I don't know why either."

Win frowned. "Impressive simile," he said flatly.

"Hey, it's late."

Myron heard a car pull up front. A young blond entered the room and smiled. Win smiled back. She bent down and kissed him. Win had no problem with that. Win was never outwardly rude to his dates. He was not the type to rush them out. He had no problem with them staying the night, if it made them happier. Some might mistake this for kindness or a tender spot in the soul.

They'd be wrong. Win let them stay because they meant so little to him. They could never reach him. They could never touch him. So why not. let them stay?

"That's my taxi," the blonde said.

Win's smile was blank.

"I had fun," she said.

Not even a blink.

"You can reach me through Amanda if you want"

she looked at Myron, then back at Win "well, you know."

"Yes," Win said. "l know." .

The young woman offered up an uncomfortable smile and left.

Myron watched, trying to keep his face from registering shock. A prostitute! Christ, she was a prostitute! He knew that Win had used them in the past in the mideighties, he used to order in Chinese food from Hunan Grill and Asian prostitutes from the Noble House bordello for what he called "Chinese Night" but to still partake, in this day and age?

Then Myron remembered the Chevy Nova and his whole body went cold.

He turned to his friend. They looked at each other.

Neither one of them said anything.

"Moralizing," Win said. "How nice."

"I didn't say anything." .

"Indeed." Win stood.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

Myron felt his heart pound."'Mind if I go with you?"