She cocked her head. "Myron, I'm twenty-four years old."

"I know that."

"That's like 107 in women-tennis years. I'm ranked thirty-one in the world right now. I haven't made two hundred grand over the past two years on tour. This is a big score, Myron. And man, will it change my image."

"Exactly my point."

"No, listen up, tennis is looking for draws. I'll be controversial. I'll get tons of attention. I'll suddenly be a big name. Admit it, my appearance fees will quadruple."

Appearance fees are the money paid to the big names just to show up, win or lose. Most name players make far more in appearance fees than prize money. It's where the potential major dinero is, especially for a player ranked thirty-first.

"Probably," Myron said.

She stopped and grabbed his arm. "I love playing tennis."

"I know that," he said softly.

"Doing this will extend my career. That means a lot to me, okay?"

Christ, she looked so young.

"All of what you're saying may be true," Myron said. "But at the end of the day, you're still appearing at a topless bar. And once it's done, it's done. You will always be remembered as the tennis player who appeared topless."

"There are worse things."

"Yes. But I didn't become an agent to get in the stripping business. I'll do what you want. You're my client. I want what's best for you."

"But you don't think this is best for me?"

"I have trouble advising a young woman to appear topless."

"Even if it makes sense?"

"Even if it makes sense."

She smiled at him. "You know something, Myron? You're cute when you're being a prude."

"Yeah, adorable."

"Tell them yes."

"Think about it for a few days, okay?"

"It's a no-brainer, Myron. Just do what you do best."

"What's that?"

"Get the number up. And tell them yes."

Chapter 18.

Cross River Condos was one of those complexes that looked like a movie facade, like whole buildings might topple over if you pushed against any one wall. The development was sprawlingly cramped, with every building looking exactly the same. Walking through it was like something out of Alice in Wonderland , all avenues mirroring the others, until you got dizzy. Have too much drink and you're bound to stick your key in the wrong lock.

Myron parked near the complex pool. The place was nice but too close to Route 80, the major artery that ran from, well, here in New Jersey to California. The traffic sounds sloshed over the fence. Myron located the door to 24 Acre Drive and then tried to figure out which windows belonged to it. If he had it right, the lights were on. So was the television. He knocked on the door. Myron saw a face peer through the window next to the door. The face did not speak.

"Mr. Gibbs?"

Through the glass, the face said, "Who are you?"

"My name is Myron Bolitar."

A brief pause. "The basketball player?"