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His old life It was here, standing in front of hi hair and a s but cynicisain, wanted to be the sa hell-raiser he’d once been He wanted that life that sarette smoke and cheap perfume

Grinning, he stepped aside “Valentine Where in the hell have you been?”

“Trying to find booze in a town that shuts down at twilight—and sells liquor only in state stores” He shuddered dramatically “Christ, what an archaic custom”

Angel led the way into the darkened cabin, turning on a few lights as he went Val followed, his boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor

Val set the bottle down on the table with a clunk “Cuervo Gold Your favorite”

Angel looked longingly at the bottle Could one drink really hurt?

The smoke tantalized hi its stamp on the air

Val collapsed on the overstuffed sofa, one ar strand of hair behind an ear “Nice furniture—what did you do, get a Ralph Lauren credit card?”

Angel thought of his high-rise in Vegas—the stark white walls and black leather furniture, the chrolittered in a dozen shades of gold when the lights came on “Madelaine picked this stuff out”

One eyebrow shot upward “Ah …”

Angel saw the cynicism in his friend’s eyes

, the inability to understand or appreciate a hoain he felt adrift and lost A ht suddenly of Lina, of the way she looked at his she asked of hi her mouth

Be my daddy … I love you … be there … be there … be there…

He would only disappoint her if he tried to be a real father What the hell did he know about being a father? And yet, he’d break her heart if he failed

“Have a drink,” Val said softly,the bottle toward him