had that specials board memorized.
She faced front for barely a second. “I just had an audition for a Mountain Dew commercial,” she said, turning around.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I was also in Six Characters in Search of an Author. I was one of the six characters. And I was in Top Girls.”
“Were you one of the top girls?”
“How did you know? Actually, I wasn’t, so—ha. I was one of the second-tier girls. You’re not a producer by any chance, are you?” She appraised his suit. “Maybe I could audition for you.”
He demurred. “The kind of producer I am you don’t want to audition for.”
“Why?” She batted her eyes. “Are you in . . . naughty films?”
“No.” He lowered his gaze, took a step back. “I sponsor and train some fighters at a gym near here.”
“Oh my God, really? I love boxing!”
“You do?” He tried to remain impassive.
“Oh, sure.” She put up her fists. “Hey, can you train me, too?”
It was hard to stay impassive. “I don’t train girls, sorry.”
“Why not? That’s sexist. Girls can fight.”
“They sure can. I just can’t train them. I’d be like, don’t get hit, duck, move away, run.”
“So maybe somebody should train you to be a trainer of girls.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
She kept looking him up and down, reviewing the shine on his shoes, the cut of his jacket. She roamed his face, from his forehead to his chin, peered into his eyes, studied his full mouth, his twice-busted nose, stared at his Adam’s apple above the open top button of his shirt. He had taken the tie off. He had to. “This is how you dress for fight training?”
“No, suit is for a meeting,” he said. “The boxing’s usually first thing.”
“What kind of meeting? I didn’t know there was a gym around here.”
“Freddie Roach’s place, just up on Vine.”
“Yeah, I know it. The Chiquis Taco food truck in the parking lot is pretty good.”
“I prefer the Han Tai Vietnamese truck next to it.”
“Oh yeah? I’ve never had Vietnamese food.” She waited.
“Oh yeah?” Was she expecting him to say something else, like invite her out? “You should try it. It’s very good.”
“I bet. Did you know I used to run the Gotham Girls Roller Derby rink?”
“I don’t think I knew that, no. But it doesn’t surprise me.”
“I did. On Coney Island. That’s me, I’m a Gotham Girl. I bet I roller blade better than you box.” She smiled.
“I bet I roller blade better than you box, too.” He smiled.
She laughed and edged half a foot closer. “Have you ever been to Coney Island?”
He stayed put. “I haven’t, no.” There was nowhere for him to go; the small place was packed.
“It’s awesome. We have a boxing gym there, too. Plus a Ferris wheel and amusements. We have fortune-tellers and a kiss me quick promenade”—she grinned—“and we had Sideshows by the Seashore where I used to work with my dad. I was the emcee, an amazing emcee, by the way, I was a carnival performer, did a little of everything, including juggling knives while riding a unicycle.”
“That sounds pretty great.”
“Oh, it was incredible. But we closed unfortunately. Coney Island still has a world-famous roller coaster, the Cyclone, and a boardwalk, and the best pizza joint in the entire world.”
“Thank you.” He couldn’t help smiling. “I know what Coney Island is.”
“Oh!” She almost blushed, but quickly regrouped. “So what do you do, Mr. Boxing Guy? Do you just train others, or do you box yourself? Oh, you box, too, really? Maybe I can come to one of your fights. What do you mean, not professionally? But you used to? Wow. Were you any good? You were? Why’d you quit? Oh no!—that sounds terrible. Head injuries are the worst. No, I never had one myself, knock wood”—she rapped on her own head—“but I knew a guy who dived into the shallow end of the pool, and he was never the same after. Mind you, he probably wasn’t all there to begin with, to dive into the shallow end. I really do like boxing, you know. I’m not just saying that.”
“Why would I think you were just saying that?”
“Like to try to impress you or something.”
“Why would I think you were trying to impress me?” He twinkled at her.
She twinkled back at him. “I used to follow this blog online,” she said. “Then I got busy, I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I’m in both film and theatre . . .”
“Yes, you mentioned it.”
“Well, I have no spare time is what I’m saying. But