“Yeah. I am,” Jerry answered without enthusiasm. Becoming an expert on centaurowls instead seemed a lot more interesting. So did making a go of it as a writer, if he could swing that. So did almost anything that didn’t involve faculty meetings.

So before very long he’d need to go up to UCLA and deal with whatever forms he had to fill out and sign because he was leaving the TAship. He didn’t know what they were, but he was sure Professor Krikorian or somebody in the department offices or at Murphy Hall would be able to tell him in great detail. He was also sure he wasn’t going up there today. After driving back and forth across the country, he was damned if he wanted to hop on the San Diego Freeway again.

He played with the King of Siam. Then he lay down on the couch to read. The cat hopped up on his stomach and purred and shed hair on his shirt while he scratched it. They both fell asleep, the King of Siam curled into a croissant just north of Jerry’s belly button. He felt better after the nap, but he needed to use the john. The King of Siam’s hooded blue stare said he did not approve of being ousted from his nice, warm cat mattress.

After Jerry did the dinner dishes that evening, he called Tim Ishihara. “Hey, I’m back in town,” he said when his friend picked up the phone.

“Yeah, I buzzed you last week. Anna said you were up north—something to do with your cousins,” Tim said. “Everything work out okay, I hope?”

“Pretty much. Feel like hitting some fungoes Saturday morning?”

Tim laughed. “That’s what I called you about then, only for last Saturday. Sure, let’s do it. Show the Dodgers and the Angels what they’re missing.”

“What we’re missing, you mean—talent.”

“I got good looks. What more do I need?” Tim said. “Pick you up at eight thirty?”

“See you then.”

Jerry stood on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building with ball, bat, and glove. Tim pulled up right on time. “Holy crap, man!” he exclaimed when he took a look at Jerry. “You got trimmed!”

“Protective coloration,” Jerry more or less explained.

They headed for the park off El Segundo where they pretended to be better than they were. Jerry was going to warn Tim if his friend asked any questions about what he’d been up to. He didn’t know if the CIA could plant a mike and a radio transmitter in a car; he also didn’t know if they couldn’t. Better to take no chances.