He spotted her across terminal A. She was chatting with a businessman as they glanced through magazines at a news stand. He stared, at first to make absolutely sure it was her, and then to make sure she noticed him. She never turned her head, but after two minutes she ran a hand through her hair, twice.

He remembered the old signal. Don't approach. He wondered, without any real interest, who the mark was.

With slow deliberation he strolled down the terminal and entered a Dunkin' Donuts. He ordered two coffees, took them to a table in back, and sat down carefully. He tried to look utterly calm. Disinterested.

Eight minutes later she entered the little coffee shop. She walked over to his table and sat down across from him. She looked calm. Disinterested.

"Hullo, Ed." she said.

"Hi, Karen," he said.

"How long has it been?"

"Since you gave me the blow off?"

"Well. There it is," she said. Her eyes betrayed nothing as they sized each other up.

She saw a tall, scruffy man afflicted with the vague fatigue that comes from sitting in an airplane seat for many hours. His short brown hair was tousled. He wore comfortable old jeans, and only a T-shirt under his jacket. He'd clearly been spending more time in the gym over the last few years. Maybe it was just that his smile was put away , but she thought he was losing the distinction between boyish charm and Peter Pan syndrome.

He saw a woman pretending to be something she wasn't. She looked ready for a trip to the mall in black yoga pants, a simple white top, and pink cardigan. Her makeup softened the strong cheekbones and sensuous lips. Her hair was its natural brown, styled in a simple shoulder length cut.

Behind her eyes there lived a different woman. A woman who made him feel like his clothes were rumpled and his feet were too big. Karen was vital, ruthless and dangerously clever. Right now looked like she was on her way to pick up the kids from daycare, but they might have to wait until she'd broken some hearts and robbed a bank.

He pushed a styrofoam cup to her. She took the lid off, looked at the coffee.

"Light, two sugars," Ed said.

"You remember."

"I never forget." He smiled wryly, making it a joke. She didn't smile back. She sipped coffee and frowned.

"Where'd you get that shiner?" she asked.

"Fell off your boyfriend."

Her lips formed a smile. "Ah, the old jokes," she said.

"How is John?"

"You didn't hear?" She looked away a moment. For her, that was flustered.

"Hear what?"

"He's doing ten to fifteen. Manslaughter."

"What happened?"

She looked at her watch. "It's a long story." She cradled the coffee cup in her hands and stared into it. "There was this guy..."
"There always is," Ed said.

She stared up at him. Anger burned in her eyes.

Karen and John. Ed's teachers, idols, fairy godparents. They'd taught him how to put his talents to use. How to make people do what he wanted. How to con and steal and live the good life.

When they had adjoining rooms, Ed would stay up late to listen to them fucking on the other side of the wall.

And now John wasn't in the picture. Ed thought of Seattle, felt his cock wake up. He'd made her mad. That made him feel excited, powerful. He thought of taking her someplace, right now, and bending her over. He'd pound her hard, make it hurt a little. Slap her around some.

The fantasy deflated. He pushed the violent thoughts away. Karen regarded him, cataloging, her anger cooling into curiosity.

They drank coffee.

"What's different about you?" Karen wondered aloud. Hazel eyes  searched his face.

Ed shrugged. "Older and wiser?"

"God, I hope not," she said.

Ed tried to think that was funny. It was hilarious.

They drank coffee.

"So what brings you to Atlanta?" Karen asked.

"Just passing through."

"Me too. I was at a real estate seminar in Miami."

"Real estate seminar," Ed repeated.

"Hey, mister art gallery, you're not the only one who can go legit."

Ed sat up a little straighter and pulled back. Karen put a hand on his arm. He felt her warmth through his light jacket.

"I had Jason look you up a year ago," she said. "Back when...when I was deciding if the gang was going to stay together or not.'

"And you decided not." He leaned back in. Her hand stayed where it was. "Funny," he said, "I can't really imagine you out of the game."

"I'd have said the same about you." The faintest of smiles flickered across her face.

"I might have some things on the back burner," Ed said. "Just some ideas, you understand."

"Mmm," she said. "I'm keeping my eyes open. Got some ideas, but no in yet." She ran her hand up his arm. "Maybe I'll call you sometime."

"Think I can replace John?"

She stood up. "I'm tired of wondering."
                              
                         
Twenty minutes later they were in a room at the Comfort Suites.

Thirty minutes after that, they were quietly wondering if the anticipation hadn't been better.
                                                                
                    
"Are we friends, Ed?" Karen asked. She watched him in the mirror while she ran a comb through her hair.

"Don't know if that's the right word," Ed replied absently. He zipped up his jeans, looked around for his shirt.

"But we're cool?"

He stepped up behind her. HIs lips brushed the back of her neck. "We're cool," he whispered.

She rested her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and sighed.
                                  
                                    
They walked briskly to Gate 21. The PA system was announcing the final boarding call.

"Nick of time," Ed said. "If you're ever in Hudson City..."

"And if you're ever in Chicago..."

"I don't know how to find you."

"Check your inside left pocket," she said.

They stopped and faced each other. "Well..." they said together, and grinned.

"Well." Ed repeated. Gently he took her hand and kissed it. His eyes held hers for a moment.

"Be well," he said softly.

"Christ, don't get sentimental on me."

He released her hand, winked, and sprinted for the gate.

Karen watched him board. When the plane was in the air, she took out her cell phone and tapped out a text message.

It read: Ready to bait the hook.