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Chapters (62)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Epigraph
  4. Dedication
  5. PART ONE - Berlin, 1934
  6. Chapter 1
  7. Chapter 2
  8. Chapter 3
  9. Chapter 4
  10. Chapter 5
  11. Chapter 6
  12. Chapter 7
  13. Chapter 8
  14. Chapter 9
  15. Chapter 10
  16. Chapter 11
  17. Chapter 12
  18. Chapter 13
  19. Chapter 14
  20. Chapter 15
  21. Chapter 16
  22. Chapter 17
  23. Chapter 18
  24. Chapter 19
  25. Chapter 20
  26. Chapter 21
  27. Chapter 22
  28. Chapter 23
  29. Chapter 24
  30. Chapter 25
  31. Chapter 26
  32. Chapter 27
  33. Chapter 28
  34. Chapter 29
  35. Chapter 30
  36. Chapter 31
  37. Chapter 32
  38. PART TWO - Havana, February 1954
  39. Chapter 1
  40. Chapter 2
  41. Chapter 3
  42. Chapter 4
  43. Chapter 5
  44. Chapter 6
  45. Chapter 7
  46. Chapter 8
  47. Chapter 9
  48. Chapter 10
  49. Chapter 11
  50. Chapter 12
  51. Chapter 13
  52. Chapter 14
  53. Chapter 15
  54. Chapter 16
  55. Chapter 17
  56. Chapter 18
  57. Chapter 19
  58. Chapter 20
  59. Chapter 21
  60. Chapter 22
  61. Chapter 23
  62. Chapter 24

“I don’t know. I’ve said I would. But I’m kind of squeamish about working for a gangster.”

“Is that what you think he is?”

“I told you. It doesn’t matter what I think. And all he offered me was a job, angel. Not a proposal of marriage. If I don’t like working for him, I can quit, and he won’t lose any sleep over it. But somehow I have the romantic idea that he feels differently about you. Any man would.”

“You’re not making a pass at me, are you?”

“If I was going to do that, I’d be in the swimming pool.”

“Max is going to help me become a movie actress.”

“So I heard. Is that why you’re going to marry him?”

“As a matter of fact, it isn’t.” She colored a little, and her voice became more petulant. “It just so happens that we love each other.”

It was my turn to pull a face.

“What’s the matter, Gunther? Weren’t you ever in love with someone?”

“Oh, sure. Your mother, for instance. But that was twenty years ago. In those days I could still tell someone I was in love with her and mean it with every fiber of my being. These days they’re just words. A man gets to my age and it’s not about love. He can persuade himself it’s love. But it’s not that at all. It’s always about something else.”

“You think he just wants to marry me for sex, is that it?”

“No. It’s more complicated than that. It’s about wanting to feel young again. That’s why a lot of older men marry younger women. Because they think youth is infectious. And it isn’t, of course. Old age, on the other hand, now, that is infectious. I mean, I can more or less guarantee that, in time, you’ll catch it, too.” I shrugged. “But like I keep telling you, angel, it doesn’t matter what I think. I’m just some slob who used to be in love with your mother.”

“That’s not such an exclusive club.”

“I don’t doubt it. Your mother’s a beautiful woman. Everything you got, you got from her, I guess.” I nodded. “What you were saying. About her being suicidal. I’ll look in on her before I go.”

I quickly went away from her and back to the house before I said anything nasty. Which was what I felt like saying.