She touched his soft little tummy, feeling the swell of ample nourishment through terry cloth.

Blue jammy. Darius would approve.

The baby smiled in his sleep.

Maddy said, “Angel. You have no idea.”

A slamming door whisked her out of her reverie and she hurried out of the room, shut the door softly, continued into the kitchen.

Ready to shush the obvious culprit. How many times had she told him?

Aaron was a smart boy, maybe he did it on purpose.

One thing for sure, he knew what was coming because he shouted, “Mommy!” as if they'd been apart for months and flashed a thousand-watt smile.

That smile. She couldn't help but spread her arms as he ran toward her.

Aaron's little head made contact with her belly. He nuzzled her. She got down on one knee and held him tight. Taking in that little-boy smell.

School clothes grimy with dust, he still managed to look more put-together than any other four-year-old on the face of the planet.

“Good to see you, Mommy! How was your day?”

“Oh, you charmer.”

Maddy hugged him harder. Aaron squirmed away. “I must have Froot Loops! Please!”

“Baby, it's too-”

“Pleeeeeze. It's important! Oh, my belly needs Froot Loops, needs it so bad!”

Dancing around the kitchen, not even pretending to take himself seriously. Sometimes she thought he was forty, not four.

He swayed, eyes as big as the universe. “I'm so hungry, Mommy!”

Little con man; Maddy fought not to laugh.

The preschool teacher had been more diplomatic.

“Aaron is a charming boy, but sometimes he relies on social skills a little too much.”

Blood ran thicker than…

“Froot Loops! I will fall over tired, Mommy, on my face, without Froot Loops!”

“Shh. Baby Moe's sleeping.”

“Baby Moe,” said Aaron, turning pensive. “He is my brother and I love him,” he stage-whispered. “He wants me to have Froot Loops, without Froot Loops everyone will be sad and Baby Moe will cry-”

“Shh, Aaron. Please.”

Aaron turned instantly silent. Stood at attention. Saluted.

Maddy said, “Wash your hands, mister, then go sit at the table like a civilized person and I'll fix you a nice snack.”

“Froot Loops is a nice snack,” said Aaron. “With chocolate milk. Real dark.”

“That's way too much sugar, honey.”

“Just a little dark.”

“Even a little is too much sugar-”

“Puhleeeeeeze?”

“Shh.”

“Mommy, I can't be quiet unless my head is happy. What makes me happy on today is-”

“Froot Loops,” said Maddy. “With regular milk.”

“A leeetle chocolate?”

“Fine.”

“A leetle more than a leeetle?”

“Don't push your luck, Handsome Boy.”

Aaron grinned. “Or it could be Smirnoff.”

Maddy froze. “What do you know about Smirnoff.”

“Jack likes it. There's a bottle in your room.”

Maddy placed her hands on his shoulders. The boy's eyes didn't waver. “Aaron Fox, have you been rummaging in other people's personal belongings?”

“I saw it when I came in to kiss you, Mommy. You weren't there. You were with the washing machine, but I saw it.”

“Where was this bottle?”

Aaron didn't answer.

“I need to know, sweetheart.”

“Jack did a bad?”

Maddy sighed. “No, Jack didn't do a bad. Tell me where-”

“On the table next to the bed. On Jack's side.”

She said, “Sweetheart, Smirnoff's for grown-ups.”

Aaron smiled wider. Knowing he'd boxed her into a corner, the little devil.

“Exactly, Mommy, and chocolate milk's for kids. A leeetle more dark. Please?”

“Two teaspoons of Nestlé's and that's it.”

“Three.”

“Two and that's final.”

Then it hit her. Aaron had come in by himself.

Her heart began to pound. “Where is Jack?”

“Sitting in the car,” said Aaron.

“Why?”

Shrug.

“Is he okay?”

Shrug.

“He did pick you up from school?”

“Uh-huh. Can I have my Froot-”

Rushing to the front of the little house, Maddy flung the door open.

The van was parked in the driveway. Jack sat behind the wheel.

Staring at nothing.

She went over to him and he let out one of his crooked smiles.

This was her life. Staring at male teeth. “What are you doing, Jack?”

His hair, beginning to gray, was windblown. His eyelids drooped. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Reeking of booze.

“You drank before you picked him up?”

“Hours ago, gorgeous-”

“I can smell it on you, don't gorgeous me!”

Jack didn't answer.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Maddy,” said Jack, “you're blowing this way up.”

“I'm talking about my child-”

“I love him like he's-”

“So you say-”

“I love him to pieces, Maddy.” Tears filled Jack's eyes. “Love him maybe not like you do, but he's… I love him, honey, he's a great kid, you know I'd never hurt him, honey, you know that, you know that, right? All I want to do is take care of my family…”

“Then how could you-”

“It was hours ago,” Jack insisted.

“At the Drop Inn.”

“Couple of beer-and-shots is all.” Jack reached out to touch her arm. She avoided him. “Aw, c'mon, hon. I'da used vodka, you'da never known.”

Maddy turned to leave.

Jack got out of the van and hurried to her side.

He did seem to be walking okay.

“I'll call the station, get 'em to bring a Breathalyzer, okay?”

Maddy said, “It's not funny.”

“I'm not trying to be funny,” Jack lied.

Bad liars were the worst. At least with the good ones you could fantasize they were sincere. Jack's inability to dissemble had caused her to lose respect within weeks of their marriage.

She said, “Don't do it again. Aaron should never smell that on you.”

“I'm sorry, honey.”

“Forget it.”

“Love you, honey.”

Maddy didn't answer.

“Either way,” said Jack.

By the time they returned to the kitchen, Aaron was at the table snarfing from a huge bowl of Froot Loops. His free hand grazed a glass of milk so saturated with chocolate that undissolved clumps floated on the surface like water lilies.

Cereal speckled the floor. Not too big of a mess, considering. The boy had always been coordinated.

He'd climbed up to the cereal cupboard, taken the time to close the door, move the chair back into place.

When he saw her, he opened a mouth full of Technicolor mush and said, “Yum!”

Jack winked and said, “Hey, that looks good.”

From down the hall came the chuffing of Baby Moe's initial wake-up cries.

Time for his snack.

Maddy left the kitchen, freeing her left breast.

CHAPTER 7

Instead of heading for the parking lot, Moe began walking toward Santa Monica Boulevard.

Aaron said, “We're hiking to the Peninsula?”

“Forget the Peninsula.”

“Too rich for your blood?”

Moe picked up his pace.

“Okay, I bite. Where we going?”

“Suzy Q's.”

“That dump?”

“Too cop for your blood?” said Moe.

“Bacon on sausage on lard on trans fat with a side of LDL cholesterol? Suit yourself, bro.”

A flush spread from Moe's pecs up to his face. His father-the man whose name Aaron had never taken-had dropped dead of a heart attack at thirty-nine. Last year, Moe had finally dug up the death report.

The deceased had fallen off a bar stool, probably cold before he hit the floor.

Moe ate a lot of skinless chicken breasts.

“Suzy's too much for you to handle? Let's do Indian.”

Aaron said, “That place where they worship Sturgis?”

“That a problem for you?”

“Life is beautiful, I've got no problems.” Four steps later: “You like working with Sturgis?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“No reason. So tell me what you've done on Frostig.”