“You have got to talk to Esau Wallenberg.”
It’s been two weeks since my encounter with Esau. I talk to Gunther every day—hell, I see him most days, sometimes two or three times—and we have assiduously avoided this topic. I’m not saying my mind hasn’t reviewed the highlight reel once or twice; I could even admit to throwing a load or two when that grin and that ridiculous c**k have popped into my mind’s erotic eye in the wee small hours, but I’ll spare you those details. I’ve certainly spared Gunther. For all he knows, I’ve forgotten all about Esau Wallenberg. And to be perfectly honest, I’m trying. Talking about him isn’t going to help; talking to him is out of the question.
“Um…” I effect the hopeful, uncertain tone of a television game show contestant. “What is, ‘The last thing I ever
