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"But we've only now settled in," Raul Wagner said. "We've got jobs." He nodded toward his wife, Magda. "We've finally got a decent house."
"And look what's happening to our kids while we're busting our asses trying to earn enough to live in this city," his brother, Rolf, answered. "We need to live somewhere where we can afford our own business again, where we can make our own hours, make time for the kids.">It's only a game, she told herself, to see if I can snare him. But she wanted to know what was in a human head to make him write that poem, and she wanted to know why he'd stolen the breath from her lips.
As she reached home the front door opened. Gabriel, the inspiration for her mother's latest fight, was leaving. He filled the door frame, blocking her way. His T-shirt clung to his wide chest.
"Hi, Viv," he said. "Lookin' good." His voice rumbled like lazy thunder.
The teasing in his blue eyes made her want to spit. "Save that for Esmé."
Gabriel rubbed his chin and grinned. She noticed the puckered white scar tissue on the back of his right hand. The tip of another scar showed at his throat. "We don't see you down at Tooley's," he said, ignoring her anger.
She glared up at him. "I'm too young to drink."
He looked her over, taking his time. Before she could help it she tugged at the hemline of her shorts. Her shirt felt too tight. She was aware of a droplet of sweat that tickled its way down between her breasts. "Could have fooled me," he finally said.
She stared him in the eye, challenging him; she was out of her depth, but defiant anyway, willing her lip not to tremble. There was silence for a moment and she couldn't read his strong, chiseled face. He reached for her. She jerked back. Then he laughed like a giant and moved aside. She slid past him into the house, angry that she'd flinched, but showing him that she dared go by. She closed the door on his arrogant face.
"Mom!" she yelled shrilly.
Esmé poked her head out from the dining room.
"How long's he been here?" Vivian demanded.
"Only a few minutes," Esmé answered. She looked smug. "He dropped by to invite me for a late-night drink."
"Dammit, Mom. He's twenty-four."
"So?"
"You're almost forty."
"Well, rub it in." But nothing was wiping the smile off Esmé's face.
"Don't you think it's a little bit disgusting?"
Esmé flung her hands in the air. "Well, for goodness' sake, I'm not serious about him."
"Oh great. Now he's your boy toy."
Esmé smirked. "Some boy." She danced up the stairs, her rear end wagging like a tail. Vivian followed Esmé up and slammed the door of her room.
Rudy had gone to Tooley's bar after work, so there were just Vivian and Esmé at the dinner table. Vivian was still brooding about Gabriel's visit. She thought of her father and the aching emptiness that still gnawed at her. Her parents had seemed so happy together. She'd thought her mother shared that ache, but now Esmé was acting like a stupid fourteen-year-old.
"Didn't you love Dad?" she finally said.
Esmé looked startled at this question out of the blue. "Yes, I loved him."
"Then why are you out running around?"
"A year's a long time, Vivian. I'm tired of crying. I'm lonely. Sometimes I want a man in my bed."
Vivian grabbed her plate abruptly and headed for the kitchen. Couldn't her mother talk to her as if she was a daughter? She scraped her leftovers into the trash with a squeal of knife against porcelain.
"Watch those dishes!" her mother yelled.
That's more like it, Vivian thought.
An hour later Vivian was on her bed doing some halfhearted studying for Chemistry, when the phone rang. She picked up the phone on the second-floor hallway expecting to hear one of the pack, but it was Aiden.
