Jim rises to a new level, a pure overcompetency, his backhand slam begins to work, any opportunity on that side and a snap of the wrist sends over a crosscourt shot angled so sharply that people sitting right at netside take it in the face. Alternate those with down-the-line backhands, tailing away. These slaps plus the bold, not to say idiotic, dives into the wall to retrieve slams when on defense, reverse the game’s momentum. He takes his last serves and wins going away, 21–17.

“Two out of three,” Arthur says, not amused.

But it’s a mistake to go for a rematch when Jim is on like this. So much of ping-pong is just the confidence to hit the thing as hard as possible, after all. Second game Jim feels the power flow through him, and there’s nothing Arthur can do about it.

Jim can even take the luxury of noticing that the video room next door is filling up with spectators. Sandy has turned on the game room cameras, and the watchers are treated to eight shots of live action, all played out on the big screenwall and the various free screens hanging from silver springs that extend down from the ceiling: Jim and Arthur, flying around from every angle. The game room clears out, in fact, as people go into the video room to observe the spectacle, and the two players have room to really go at it.

But Arthur’s out of luck tonight, Jim’s getting a sort of … uncanny ability here, premonitions so strong that he has to hold back on his swing to allow Arthur time to hit it to the preordained spots. What a joy, this silly table game.

Second game, 21–13. Arthur tosses his paddle on the table. “Whew!” He grins, gracious in defeat: “You’re hot tonight, Jim Dandy. Time for those margaritas.”

Jim starts to wind down. He looks around; Tashi and Abe weren’t even in the game room or the video room. Too bad they missed it, Jim likes his friends to see him being more than just The Fool. Oh well. The act is its own reward, right?

Sometimes Jim has a hard time convincing himself of this.

“Nice game,” says a voice behind him. He turns; it’s Virginia Novello.

Adrenaline makes a little comeback. Virginia, Arthur Bastanchury’s ally until just a couple months ago, is Jim’s idea of female perfection. Standing right there in front of him.

Long straight thick blond hair,

Bleached by sun but still full of red and yellow.

Yes, they sell that hair color, and call it California Gold.

She’s a touch under medium height.

It’s the body women go to the spa to work for.

Virginia goes there herself.

Sleeveless blouse, embroidered white on white, scoop neck.

Muscular biceps, little toy triceps,

Perfectly defined under smooth tanned skin. Whoah.

Aesthetic standards change over time, but why?