“Claudia had a boyfriend, but she wouldn’t tell Rachel his name,” I said. “She said she didn’t want me to find out. She and Martin were definitely in touch. And I came back to New York that weekend. What if—”

“Honey, there’s just no way.”

“Claudia came on to him a couple of times when she was living with me. She tried to sit in his lap once.”

“And how did that go? He ratted her out, and didn’t he refuse to stay over if she was there?” Jesse pointed out. “Look, I despise Martin Sklar. I think he’s a low-down, dirty creep who can’t be trusted. But I’ve been in the same room with him and your sis. He looks down on her like she’s trash.” He touched my chin and lifted my face so that I couldn’t avoid his eyes. “I’d never defend him. But honestly, I can’t see him hooking up with her. Going from you to your sister would be too big a trade-down for him.”

“That’s harsh,” I said, but his words made me feel a little better. Martin liked shiny, polished trophies with smooth skin. Claudia’s tattoos and track marks would have been off-putting for him. Still, if the relationship was a secret from the rest of the world, maybe Martin was indulging his dark side.

“Sorry, Lil, but your taste in men stinks. It’s like your fatal flaw. You’re smart and witty and kind and you look like Ava Gardner, but your love life is the pits. Just like Ava’s. Look at the men she married. Mickey Rooney? Then that control freak Artie Shaw. Then Sinatra.” He shook his head. “You ever think that the reason you like Ava Gardner so much is because you relate to her life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, her daddy died when she was thirteen, same age you lost yours, Lil. She had a lot of relationships with older men… Like maybe she was looking for a daddy.”

“Is that what you think I’m looking for?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Claudia had said the same thing to me before. “Do you think I want Martin to be my father?”

“Your problem is that you think you deserve creeps,” Jesse backpedaled. He’d intuited that a nerve had been struck. “You deserve better.”

“Are you done with the pep talk? Your dinner’s getting cold.”

Jesse ruffled my hair. “And you can cook! I forgot that part.” He sat down again. “Does it make you feel any better to be a gay Southern boy’s dream girl?”

“A little bit.”

“You know one of the worst things about you livin’ so far away? We never do spontaneous stuff anymore. Everythin’ has to be all planned out when one of us visits.”

“What did we do that was so spontaneous?”