it wouldn't be the last. "I can't do it, Stevie."

"Christ, Bri, just a couple grams. Nothing major. AJI they give me in

here's Tinkertoy drugs. It's like going cold turkey with aspirin."

Brian pulled his hand away and turned around. He couldn't bear to look

at those dark, haunted eyes. Pleading eyes. "I'm not going to

score c.o.ke for you, Stevie. The doctors say it'd be like putting a gun

to your head."

"I already tried that." Fighting tears, Stevie pressed both hands to his

face. "All right, no c.o.ke. You could get me something else. Some

Dolophine. It's a good drug, Bri. If it was good enough for the n.a.z.is,

it's good enough for me." He began to whine, staring at Brian's back.

"It's just a subst.i.tute, man. You've done it for me before so what's

the big tucking deal? It'll keep me straight."

Brian sighed. When he turned, opening his mouth to refuse yet again, he

saw Emma in the doorway. She stood like a statue, her lush hair caught

back in a braid, baggy blue pants. .h.i.tched with white suspenders lying on

a crimson shirt. There were big gold hoops at her ears, and she carried

a game of Scrabble. Brian thought she looked sixteen, until he saw her

eyes.

They were cold. A woman's cold, accusing eyes.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No." Brian stuck his hands in his pockets. "I've got to get on."

"I'd like to talk with you." She didn't look at him as she spoke, but

moved to the opposite side of Stevie's bed. "Maybe you could wait

outside for me. I won't be long. The doctor said Stevie needed rest."

"All right." It was ridiculous, Brian thought, but he felt like a child

about to be scolded. "I'll see you in a day or two, Stevie."

"Right." He said nothing else, but his eyes begged as Brian left the

room.

"I bought you this." Emma laid the board game over Stevie's bony knees.

"I figured you could practice up so you could try to beat me."

"I always beat you."

"When I was a kid, and because you cheated." She lowered the bedguard to

sit beside him. "I'm not a kid anymore."

He couldn't keep his hands still. His fingers played a nervous tatoo on

the box. "I guess not."

"So you want some drugs." She said it so matter-of-factly, it took a

moment for it to register. His fingers picked up the rhythm against the

box as he looked at her.

"What was the name of it again? I'll write it down. I imagine I can

get my hands on some in a few hours."

"No."

"You said you wanted it. What was the name?" She'd taken out a pad and

held a pencil poised over it.

There was hope, and a desperate greed, before shame flushed his

skin. For a moment, he looked almost healthy. "I don't want you

involved."

She laughed at that, a low, amused sound that made the sweat break out

on the back of his neck. "Don't be soft, Stevie. I've been involved

since I was three. Do you really believe I had no idea what went on at