�Look at me when you speak,� Diane said. Matisse raised his chin and met her gaze.

�Like I said, I was trying to prove myself to the Columbians, working up to bigger and bigger scores. Yvonne was my ticket to the inside of the ring. We called it the �Brass Ring� because the bosses had brass balls.� Matisse laughed. �It became a metaphor for the work I was doing. I was getting close. I had brought all my old contacts on board from my days with Don. That impressed the Brass Ring. I must have added a dozen carefully screened distribution hubs.�

�That�s a dubious honor,� Diane scowled at him.

�Well, it wasn�t enough for them. They wanted to extract their pound of flesh, as it were. They literally wanted me to promise them my firstborn son.�

�No one asks for that anymore!� Diane laughed. She became suddenly quiet and serious when she noticed Matisse wasn�t laughing with her. She rubbed an itchy spot at the center of her forehead and tried to decide if she really wanted to hear this story.

�Shall I continue?�

Diane inhaled deeply, stood taller, and replied, �Yes. Please.�

�The Brass Ring said that since I didn�t already have a son to promise them, I would have to make one. They offered me a delectable assortment of women who were on the payroll already. Needless to say, none of them were the kind of woman who would make a good mother for my progeny.�

Diane�s mouth gaped open. Matisse stopped and stared at her, impatient. She stammered, �I�m sorry. I am just...really surprised at how far you were willing to go.�

�As I was saying, they left it up to me to choose the mother. I thought hard about who could protect my son from these scum, and the only person I could imagine in that role was you. By some quirk of fate, you were seeing Dr. Muzqu�z. He happened to be indentured to the Brass Ring for importing him and his family from Colombia. He does all the ob/gyn work for the families of the Brass Ring, and he takes care of their working girls. So, I hit them up for a favor.� �You unbelievable bastard!� Diane grimaced and slapped Matisse in the face. He put his hand over his stinging flesh. �I can�t believe you�d use me like that!�

Matisse shrugged. �I�m still not sorry for that. Look at the two of you. You�re both beautiful and healthy. How can I be sorry for that?�

�You gave me no warning of what kind of horrible danger I was in. All these months!�

�You have to give me credit, Diane. I would certainly have warned you if your colleagues had failed to collar that bunch at the nightclub a few months back.� Matisse cocked his head and looked at her out of the side of his eyes. �Can you forgive me? Please?�