“You.”
He lifts his cocktail in salute to me.
I again cannot form any words as he smiles at me. His dark eyes are locked on mine, and I finally notice he has the cutestlittle dimple in the chin of his strong jaw, as if a small sliver of granite was chiseled away to make him look a little bit more vulnerable.
I set down my martini glass and try to act casual. I place my chin in my hand and pull up the loose skin on my face with my fingertips.
“Are you okay?” Leo asks. “I hope that didn’t come as too much of a shock.”
I release my head from my hand. I can feel my face fall.
“It is a little,” I say. “You’re a reporter? You kept that a secret.”
Leo laughs. “I’m superstitious like my Ima.”
And I have confirmation: Leo Levy, as his name implied, is Jewish.
Hot Jew in the house.
“I’m a TV reporter,” Leo explains. “Earlier this year I was let go from a station in the Bay Area after working there for nearly thirty years, and I was planning on retiring until I came to Palm Springs to lick my wounds. I fell in love with the desert, which I didn’t expect. I ended up having lunch with an old friend who is the GM at a local TV station. He told me he was hiring for a morning anchor, and I told him I was too old to get up at four in the morning.” Leo pauses. “And goodness knows I’ll be hitting the early bird specials and going to bed at sevenp.m. before too long.”
I laugh and take a sip of my martini. Leo continues.
“But I started watching the local news in the desert, and I discovered there was a vital piece of reporting missing. Nearly half of Palm Springs is gay, and a quarter of the Coachella Valley is over sixty. Very little news was being reported specifically for those populations. On a lark, I created a segment called ‘Gray and Gay.’”
“Very clever.”
“Thank you,” Leo says. “I thought about ‘You Bet Your Sweet Bippy,’ but that seemed too much.”
“True.”
“I ended up recording a few segments about issues that directly impact those communities,” he continues, “from affordable housing and health care to elder abuse and elder care. And the GM offered me a job. I’m moving to Palm Springs full-time. I didn’t want to jinx it when I was talking to you at the track. I’m a little superstitious.”
His announcement makes me feel as giddy as a schoolgirl. I choose my words carefully, so I don’t blurtI love you, Leo!orSuspicious mole!
“That’s so fascinating and so needed,” I say instead. “But why do you want to interview me?” I smile at him. “I’m not that interesting. You really should talk to Barry or Teddy about the show. They’re the masterminds behind it. They have all the talent.”
Leo surveys my face.
“A source at the library told me what happened to you in the parking lot after your Reading Hour.”
My heart stops. I glance around to see if Ron or Barry heard what Leo just uttered. I motion him to come closer.
“I haven’t said a word about this to anyone. How did you find out?”
“A good reporter has his sources,” he says.
“Tell me. Please.”
“The incident was recorded on the security cameras at the library,” Leo says. “It was reported to the police by the administration. No one could identify the woman—her face was blurry, she parked out of sight so they couldn’t ID her license plate, but they suspect it was likely her first time coming to the library, obviously with the intent to harass you. But someone from the Palm Springs Police Department is planning to take a report from you. They will probably be monitoring your next reading at the library.”
I shake my head. “If I ever go back.”
Leo puts his hand on my arm. It is strong and warm.
“You have to go back,” he says.
“No, I don’t,” I say firmly. “That woman’s attack brought upso much forgotten deep-seated self-hatred. It revived so many memories I thought I had buried but are still living underneath the surface. I’m eighty-one years old, and she made me feel as weak and vulnerable and disgusting as I did growing up in the closet.”
