He remembered, though he wished he didn't. He'd been nineteen and full

of music and rage. Someone had brought cocaine and after he'd snorted

for the first time he'd felt like a thoroughbred stud. Quivering to

tick.

"So you had a baby and you think she's mine. Why did you wait until now

to tell me about her?"

"I told you I couldn't find you at first." Jane moistened her lips and

wished she'd had just one more drink. She didn't think it would be wise

to tell him she'd enjoyed playing the martyr for a while, the poor,

unwed mother, all alone. And there'd been a man or two along the way to

ease the road.

"I went on this program, they have them for girls who get in trouble. I

thought maybe I'd give her away, you know, for adoption. After I had

her, I couldn't, because she looked just like you. I thought if I gave

her up, you'd find out about it and get mad at me. I was afraid you

wouldn't give me another chance."

She started to cry, big fat tears that smeared her heavy makeup. They

were uglier, and more disturbing, because they were sincere. "I always

knew you'd come back, Brian. I started hearing your songs on the radio,

seeing posters of you in the record store. You were on your way. I

always knew you'd make it, but, Jesus, I never knew you'd be so big. I

started thinking-"

"I'll bet you did," Johnno murmured.

"I started thinking," she said between her teeth. "That you'd want to

know about the kid. I went back to your old place, but you'd moved and

n.o.body would tell me where. But I thought about you every day. Look."

Taking his arm she pointed to the pictures she'd crowded on the walls of

the flat. "I cut out everything I could find about you and saved it."

He looked at himself reproduced a dozen times. His stomach turned.

"Jesus."

"I called your record company, and I even went there, but they treated

me like I was n.o.body. I told them I was the mother of Brian McAvoy's

baby daughter, and they had me tossed out." She didn't add that she'd

been drunk and had attacked the receptionist. "I started reading about

you and Beverly Wilson, and I got desperate. I knew she couldn't mean

anything to you, not after what we had. But I had to talk to you

somehow."

"Calling Bev's flat and raving like a maniac wasn't the best way to go

about it."

"I had to talk to you, to make you listen. You don't know what it's

like, Bri, worrying about how to pay the rent, whether you've got enough

for food. I can't buy pretty dresses anymore or go out at night."

"Is money what you want?"

She hesitated just an instant too long. "I want you, Bri, I always

have."

Johnno tapped out his cigarette in the base of a plastic plant. "You

know, Bri, there's been a lot of talk about this kid, but I don't see

any sign of her." He rose, and in a habitual gesture, shook back his

gleaming mop of dark hair. "Ready to split?"

Jane sent him a vicious look. "Emma's in the bedroom. And I'm not