Silence. Just boring bar music that kept repeating the coda with the bass and lead guitar over and over again.

“Is it such a crazy thought?” asked Linus Major.

“No, Linus, except…”

“Except what?”

“Except we’re poor. You’re an employee of a museum and I’m…I’m…”

“You’re a hooker. So what?”

“An ex-hooker.”

“I don’t care. As long as you come home to me at night.”

“You wouldn’t mind me being a hooker?”

“No.”

“You’re an idiot, Linus. A raving idiot.”

Silence.

“I’m an ex–gang girl, Linus.”

“I don’t care if you were a murderess, Retta Mae. You’ve changed. You’re not a murderess now. Not even close. And even if you are, and you get sent to jail, I’ll bring you cakes with little saws in them and—”

“Like I said, Linus, we’re broke.”

“Okay, so maybe we’re a little broke. But we’ll make ends meet. We’re smart and we’re hard workers. We’ll get to be what we want to be. You wouldn’t have to be a hooker anymore if you didn’t want to. I make enough money at the museum to pay the rent and put food on the table. By the way, I happen to live in one of the last rent-controlled buildings in New York. You could go to college and get a degree. Maybe work in your spare time. It’ll be hard at first but we’ll get it done. You can be anything you want to be, Retta Mae Wagons. You’re still young and bright as hell. You can get yourself into college in a minute. You were a straight-A high school student. Believe me, it won’t be a problem.”

“I’d love to be a doctor,” Retta Mae said, sort of to herself.

“See! We can do it, Retta Mae. We can. We can do it together, I know we can.”

“I’ve got some money stashed away that Rasheed never got his hands on.”

“And I’ve got a good job and I’m going places at the museum. You can count on it. And, like I said, you don’t have to be a damned hooker anymore if you don’t want to and—”

“But Linus, honey, we’ve known each other exactly twelve hours. If that.”

“Listen, Retta Mae, I read somewhere that it doesn’t matter if you marry your high school sweetheart you’ve known since grammar school or someone you met an hour ago. Each marriage has as good a chance of working, or failing, as the other.”

“That’s what you read somewhere, huh?”

“Yes, that’s what I read. I love you, Retta Mae. I know that’s weird—not that I should love you but that I should fall in love with you so fast—but I love you. Listen to me. I know you won’t believe this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. My nose twitches when I’m in the presence of a woman I will be happily married to, and my nose has been twitching up a storm for the last twelve hours.”

“Be serious, Linus. This is important.”