Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection (Stark World 2.50)

Wince grinned. "Not yet. They did a brain transplant."

Keisha raised her eyebrows like that was a fine idea. "Dad, it's three and I'm still a mouse, mostly?"

To Wince. "S'my daughter. Keisha."

"I had a hunch." Wince's smile did that thing where it stopped joking and shone on her gently. He extended his hand. "Wince." They shook. "Farley."

"Nice to meet you." Keisha's brow creased. "Are you his friend?" Like he had only one. Well, back in the day, true enough.

"Jug and I went to Walton together, back when dinos roamed the earth." Wince's voice turned polite and got very sitcom-dad square. "Thanks for rescuing my kid."

She shrugged. "That was all my dad. I was putting on my mouse getup for the third graders." She turned and lowered her voice. "I'm gonna be late for rehearsal. Forty minutes?"

Wince squinted at Jerome.

"Nutcracker."

Keisha was having none of that. "We refer to it as The Ball-buster."

Jerome grimaced. "She's dancing at Lincoln Center."

"That's so groovy. I never seen a ballet." Wince bobbed his head.

Keisha set the bait. "It's pretty dippy an' all. But I'm in two parts this year. Mice and Polichinelles." She glanced back with her mom's ruthless, elegant aim. "We can bring guests to the dress rehearsal, Mr. Farley. You should come."

What? Jerome tried to read her eyes.

Wince lit up at the invite. "Sure!"

Keisha approved. "He's cool." A peek at her dad.

Jerome shook his head. "You don't have to. Don't blackmail him. Not everyone likes Tchaikovsky."

"Butts in seats, yo. Dancers are athletes." She looked at Wince. "I think you should. Nuts will be cracked. Bring Flip. After his brain transplant heals." She motioned to Jerome, looked at her watch. "I gotta go."

"We'll be there." Wince nodded and stood.

Keisha didn't wait another second. Like Olivia. She hated being late, breaking the rules, disappointing anyone. Over her shoulder, she said, "Whole hospital smells like that stupid pig."

Wince crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Great kid."

"She is." Jerome stared after her. "So much like her mother."

"I'm glad."

"She was a soap actress. Her mom was ..." And then he flat ran out of the words.

Wince watched him for a moment before he asked. "She died?"

Meaning Olivia. Meaning that whole other life and wife Wince had missed. Meaning Wince's forked path through exes and overdoses. Jerome nodded. Embarrassed at these feelings. Embarrassed to be embarrassed with Wince. Olivia would've made fun of him for not speaking up, not introducing her to his oldest friend with some panache. "Bone cancer."

Around them the hallway had emptied, a row of curtained areas to hide the people in pain from each other.

"Sucks. Sorry." Wince looked at the linoleum floor, fiddling with his watchband. "Flip's mom ditched us when he was three. She had ... problems."

Jerome gave a tight frown. "You got burned, too."

"Not really. I got Flip. Fun job. Travel. Cool digs." He looked so tired. Beaten. "I made out great." He held up his fist.