Night Passage by Robert B. Parker

Jesse picked up a wedge of sandwich.
    “Do you?” Abby said.
    “Still love her?”
    “Un huh.”
    Jesse put the sandwich wedge back down on the plate and leaned back in the booth.
    “I don’t know where it will go with Jenn,” Jesse said. “I don’t even know where I want it to go.”
    “That’s comforting,” Abby said.
    “What I know is that I’m not a good basket to put all your eggs in at the moment, you understand. I don’t know if I love Jenn or not right now. I don’t know if I can love anybody but Jenn right now. I like you, and we have fun together, but I don’t know what it will be like between us next week or next month. Until I get myself clear about Jenn …” He didn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t know how to. So he let it hang unfinished. Abby met his look for a moment and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her eyes glistened. Then she looked down at her sandwich.
    They were quiet for a time neither talking nor eating.
    Then Abby said, “Well, consider myself warned, I guess.”
    She looked up at him and smiled very brightly.
    “Doesn’t mean we can’t eat lunch,” she said and her voice was as bright as her smile. Jesse didn’t feel very hungry at the moment, but he started on his sandwich because he didn’t know what else to do.
    Jo Jo Genest came into the restaurant and took a seat at the counter. He was wearing a sleeveless black tee shirt and his arms bulged obscenely. He swiveled on the counter stool and rested his back and elbows against the counter and looked at Jesse. Jesse finished chewing a bite of his sandwich and looked back at Jo Jo. He was a city cop, and he had long ago mastered the dead-eyed city cop stare. Jo Jo’s stare was more of a smirk, Jesse thought. They held the stare for about a minute, which to Abby, sitting in the booth watching them, seemed like an hour. Then Jo Jo wheeled slowly around on his stool and faced the counter and ordered a steak sandwich.
    “Doesn’t he scare you?” Abby said softly.
    Jesse shrugged.
    “Like hell,” Abby said. “No shrugging. I asked you a question I want you to answer.”
    Jesse didn’t like her tone and it showed in the look he gave her. But Abby held his look.
    “Talk about yourself, Jesse. I want to know you.”
    “What’s to know?” Jesse said.
    “Well, for instance, are you scared of Jo Jo Genest?”
    Through his nose Jesse took a long inhale and a long exhale, and pursed his lips. His right hand rested on the tabletop and he tapped it several times, as if listening to music that Abby couldn’t hear. She waited.
    “On the one hand,” Jesse said, “Jo Jo’s big and strong and stupid and mean and he’s mad at me. I’d be an idiot not to be scared of him. On the other hand, if I have to, I can shoot him just as easy as if he were small and weak and smart and kindly.”
    “And you’d be willing to do that?” Abby said.
    “I’d be willing,” Jesse said.
    “You ever shoot anyone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Kill him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you tell me about it?”
    Jesse shifted uncomfortably.
    “He had a machete,” Jesse said. “Nine years ago.”
    “You would have been, what? Twenty-six?”
    Jesse nodded. Abby waited. Jesse didn’t continue.
    “So you shot him dead?” Abby said.
    “Yes.”
    “Did you mean to?”
    “Yes.”
    “You didn’t try to wound him, you know, shoot him in the leg or something?”
    “You shoot, you always shoot to kill. It’s not the movies. You’re in a crisis situation, you got about a half second to do what needs to be done. Your heart’s pounding, you can’t swallow. It feels like you can’t get your breath and you got some guy with a machete. You aim for the middle of the mass and you try to remember not to jerk the trigger.”
    Abby nodded slowly as she watched his face.
    “Listening to you talk,” Abby said. “It’s in there.”
    “What exactly?” Jesse said.
    “I don’t know exactly. I sensed it when we made love. I guess I thought of