and tucked them against his face, stil bent into the circle of

his arms. I drank some soda while I thought of what to

say.

"Family is important," was al I could come up with.

Jeremy looked at me again, though his tears had to be

embarrassing. "He was married before my mom."

"Yeah. I know. To Gretchen and Steven's mom. But that

was before you were born, guy."

"But not," Jeremy said in a voice laced thick with disgust,

"before you were born."

He'd only just now figured it al out. Wel, I'd known it

younger than twelve and it hadn't made it any easier for me

to know my father had been married to another woman

when he had me. I was three before my dad realy started

making an effort to see me, his first marriage already over.

He was dating Stela by then. I never realy knew him with

anyone else.

"My mom…" Jeremy shuddered and swiped at angry

tears. "She's the reason he got divorced from Gretchen

and Steve's mom. Isn't she?"

"I don't know, Jeremy. I never asked. It's not my business.

And, realy, not yours." I didn't want to come off hard on

him. I understood. But I also knew it wouldn't change

anything for him to be angry over it.

"If family is so important, why did he do that?"

I sighed, at a loss. "I don't know."

Jeremy scrubbed at his face, the tears gone. His bright

eyes were shaped like Stela's though they were my dad's

color, and he looked like her when he frowned that way.

"He cheated on his first wife and had another baby, and

then he did it again!

That's not putting family first. That's not treating them like

they're important!"

Of al my dad's kids I'd thought Gretchen or Steven might

have had the most to bitch about. After al, their lives had

been turned upside down and torn apart by their dad's

infidelity. Mine hadn't been al strawberries and cream, but

it had been al I'd ever known. Jeremy and Tyler had lived

the lives of princes from birth.

"What are you worried about?" I asked him quietly. "That he'l do it again?"

He didn't have to answer with words. I reached across the

island and took my half brother's hand. In my pocket, my

island and took my half brother's hand. In my pocket, my

phone buzzed, but I didn't reach for it.

"Your dad loves you. And he loves your mom. Crazy

like."

Jeremy let me hold his hand but didn't squeeze my fingers

in return. "Did he love your mom, Paige?"

I let go of his hand. "I don't know. That's between them."

"And it doesn't make you mad?"

I shrugged. "It used to, I guess. But what can I do about

it? I'm a grown-up now, kiddo. I have to do my own thing.

At least I know my dad, you know? Some kids never do."

He nodded finaly and wiped at his face again with the

grimy, shredded tissue. "It makes me so mad, though."

"It's okay to be mad. Maybe you should talk to him about

it, though, instead of being bad in school."

Jeremy looked stricken. "He'd tel Mom that I know!"

I didn't point out that it wasn't just our dad who'd done

wrong. Stela had known what she was doing, or at least

I'd always assumed so since she wasn't a woman who

ever did anything by accident. I just patted his hands and

washed my own before I finished my soda.

The sound of the garage door opening had us both on our

feet. Jeremy hopped up the stairs without a word from me,

while I dumped his can in the sink and stashed the can in

the recycling bin. By the time my dad and Stela got in the

house, silence reigned from upstairs and I was flipping

through a back issue of some home-and-garden magazine.

"How did it go?" Stela bustled into the kitchen and stuck

an aluminum swan in the fridge. "You got our message?

The fund-raiser had only the tiniest hors d'oeuvres and we

were starving, and since you were here, wel, we just

decided to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out."

"No problem. I took them to Jungle Java."

Stela raised a brow. "That junky place?"

My dad had come in behind her and let out a long, loud

belch. "What junky place?"

Stela roled her eyes. "Paige took the boys to Jungle

Java."

Java."

"Yeah?" He looked at the clock and yawned. "That place is stil around?"

I got the not-so-subtle hint. "Yeah. They're upstairs, but

I'm not sure if they're asleep."

Stela sighed. "Did they bring home a bunch of junk?"

I grinned unapologeticaly. "Absolutely."

She gave me a second glance, then a smal smile. "I'm

going up to say good-night. Are you leaving, Paige?"

"Yeah." I glanced at my dad, who was rooting around in

the fridge for something.

"Vince! We just ate!"

"I need a drink," he said and came out holding a bottle of designer water.

"Fine. Good night, Paige. Thanks for watching the boys."

"No problem."

My dad and I turned to watch her head up the steps. I

My dad and I turned to watch her head up the steps. I

thought he'd ask me about Jeremy since that was the

whole reason I'd come over in the first place, but he didn't.

He drank his water with a sigh and tossed the empty bottle

in the trash. Then he puled out his walet and handed me a

fifty-dolar bil.

"For watching the kids," he said.

The paper, crisp and sharp edged, rubbed my fingers.

"Dad, I don't need this."

"Jungle Java isn't cheap."

"I wanted to take them."

"Take the money, Paige," my dad said amiably enough.

"I'm sure you can use it."

I straightened my shoulders and folded the bil in half, then

shoved it in my pocket. "You don't have to pay me for

watching the boys. I'm doing al right."

My dad laughed. "I'm sure you are. I'm not paying you for

anything, I'm just being your dad, okay?"

"Wel, then. Thanks." Gratitude stuck in my throat but I

forced it out.

My dad had periodicaly tossed me some money over the

years. Never enough. Never when I needed it. It would

have been better if he'd done right by my mom and given

her child support so I could've had the stylish jeans in

middle school or the warmer winter coat. I'd have

appreciated that more than the occasional twenty or even

fifty dolars, or the sudden flurry of birthday gifts three

weeks late and al in the wrong sizes.

"Do you want to go to lunch with me next week?" He

yawned again, and I started toward the front door.

"Sure, Dad. Cal me."

"I wil," he told me at the door and gave me a hug and a

kiss on the cheek. "Drive safe."

It was so fatherly it felt foreign. Driving home, my phone

vibrated against my leg again, but I didn't pul it out until I

got to the parking garage. Two messages waited for me.

In bed. Not tired. What should I cal you?

And the second, Stil not sleeping.

I hadn't forgotten how I'd looked forward to every note.

I'd imagined the sender, my secret commander, crafting

each word with the intent of forcing me one more step

along a path so curved I couldn't see the end. I'd never

thought about how difficult it would be to come up with

detailed lists every time, or how it felt to hold someone so

firmly in my command.

There were limits. There had to be. I'm sure I'd have found

them had the notes kept coming, pushing me harder, or if

they'd ordered me to do something so foreign to me I

couldn't manage it. I didn't think I'd have committed a

crime or done something against my personal code, like

have bareback sex with a stranger, or taken drugs.

I didn't know Eric's limits, or how far I wanted to push

him, but the thought sifted heat al through me. I thought for

another few moments, then got out of my car. It wasn't

terribly late, not for a Saturday, but the parking garage

was quiet. Across the street I could see a few lights on in

apartments, though many windows were dark. Most of the

Manor residents would be out and about until much later.

By the time I got to the front doors, I was already tapping

out a message. Grinning, I tucked my phone, set to silent,

back in my pocket. It was a risk that might not play out the

way I'd planned, but it was a good risk.

If you're not sleeping, you should put your time to good

use. Go to the lobby. Greet the first person you see. If it's

a man, you wil engage him in whatever conversation you

want. But if it's a woman, you wil find a way to serve her.

Not to please her, and not to please yourself. To please

me.

It was a lot of typing, but the fact it took longer meant he

had to wait longer for it. I was already in the lobby, which

was stil empty. Al I had to do was wait.

I caught sight of my face in the mirror above the fireplace

nobody ever lit. Blond hair slicked back in a high ponytail,

blue eyes smudged with gray liner. The sun had brought

out some freckles and my lips stil could've used some

gloss, but overal, it wasn't a bad picture.

I turned my face from side to side, envisioning heavier

makeup and a leather suit replacing my workout clothes. A

whip in my hand. Spike-heeled boots. None of that