headed down the hall to the twelve-by-sixteen space Angela was sharing with a girl from Lubbock who’d also taken potluck on a roommate. They seemed to get along well already, which he guessed was a good thing, except the girl had a tattoo of some Chinese symbol on her upper arm, a ring through her nose, and frizzy hair dyed death-black.
Angela lifted her arms to put a framed photo onto the top shelf of her bookcase, hiking up her shirt. It was one of those midriff things she wore with jeans slung an inch below her belly button, which was pierced with a silver ring. God in heaven—why had he given in on that?
Because she’d begged for weeks, driving him crazy until he’d finally told her she could pierce anything she could cover up later for a job interview. Then he’d read something in one of her magazines about labia piercing, and that’s when he’d known for a fact that this parenthood thing had gotten totally out of control and he didn’t stand a chance anymore.
“Where do you want this?” Marc asked.
“On the dresser,” Angela said.
He set the box down and turned back, brushing his hands together, but before he could ask Angela if she needed any help unpacking or maybe hanging some stuff on the walls, she said, “I’ll walk you back downstairs.”
Marc wasn’t ready for this. He was even more not ready than he imagined he’d be. “Uh…okay.” He turned to Angela’s roommate. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Cordero,” the girl said with a smile, but her eyes said, Now go away.
Marc and Angela walked back to the elevator lobby. The elevator doors opened, and three boys got off. As they passed by, one of them eyed Angela with too much interest, a hulking jock type who looked as if he was itching for another notch on his bedpost.
“What are you looking at?” Marc growled.
The kid stopped. Swallowed hard. “Uh…nothing, sir.”
“That’s right. You’re looking at nothing. And nothing is over there. My daughter is over here, and she’s not nothing. So if you’re looking at nothing, you’re not looking at her. Are we clear on that?”
The kid’s eyes were big as searchlights. “Yes, sir.”
“Now, beat it,” Marc snapped.
As the kid hurried off with his buddies, Angela spun on Marc, looking horrified. “Dad! Why did you do that?”
“Nothing’s changed just because you’re here and I’m in Rainbow Valley,” he said, striding onto the elevator. “No dumb jock just looking to get laid is going to mess with you.”
“So what are you going to do?” Angela said, following him onto the elevator. “Drive an hour so you can kick his ass?”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
She stabbed the button for the first floor. “I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”
“I trust you. It’s guys like him I don’t trust.”
“Could you embarrass me any more, Dad?” she said, throwing her arms into the air. “Huh? Is it even possible?”
Didn’t she get it by now? He just wanted her to be safe. But in this place…good God. He saw danger around every corner. Why didn’t she?
Right about then, their tiny little town seemed like a 1950s sitcom set in comparison. Everybody knew everybody else in Rainbow Valley, so kids knew if they got out of line, word would eventually get back to somebody who would shove them back in. Marc had always been able to intimidate Angela’s boyfriends with a frown, a gruff voice, and a few subtle words of warning. In fact, there had been times when he swore he was smiling but Angela told him he still looked pissed. That was fine with him if it meant boys kept their distance. But what was he supposed to do now? Could he make sure they didn’t mess with his daughter when he was an hour away in Rainbow Valley?
The problem was that he knew what teenage boys were like because he’d been one. Things could happen that you never expected and certainly weren’t ready to deal with. It was funny how after all these years he could barely remember what Nicole looked like, only that he’d been crazy in love with her and teenage sex had seemed like a wondrous gift from God.
Then came Angela.
Three months after that, Nicole was gone. Couldn’t handle being a mother. As if Marc had been any more prepared to be a father.
In the years that followed, he’d felt as if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Angela’s childhood