the moonlight created through the window. He slipped her nightgown up her thigh and hooked his finger over the elastic of her panties and pulled them down far enough so he could kiss her lightly on the rump, something he always did before congress with her. He could feel the nocturnal intensity of her body heat through her gown and hear the steady, undisturbed sound of her breathing against the wall. The touch of his hand or his lips seemed to neither awaken nor arouse her, and he wondered if her deep slumber was feigned or if indeed she had dreamed herself back into a time when Nick had not exchanged off their happiness for success in the skin trade.

He put on his slippers and robe and ate a bowl of Grape-Nuts and drank a glass of cold milk in the kitchen and, at six A.M., disarmed the burglar alarm and retrieved the newspaper from the front yard. The morning was cool and damp and smelled of water sprinklers and Nick?s closely cropped St. Augustine grass that his Mexican gardeners had mowed late yesterday and the night-blooming flowers Esther constantly fertilized with coffee grounds and bat guano and fish blood and black dirt bagged from a swamp outside Lake Charles, all of which created a fecund odor Nick associated with a Louisiana graveyard that lay so deep in shadow it was never penetrated by sunlight.

Enough with thoughts about graveyards, he told himself, and went back in the house, the rolled newspaper fat in his hand. Nor did he wish to dwell on thoughts about schoolyard bullies and personal failure and the slippage of his fortune onto the shoals of financial ruin. He wanted to be with Esther, inside her warm embrace, inside the glow of her thighs with the smell of her hair in his face and the rhythm of her breath on his cheek. It didn?t seem a lot to ask. Why had the Fates ganged up against him? He pulled the plastic rain sheath off the newspaper and unrolled the paper on the breakfast table. The lead story dealt with the murder of a young mother and her two children. The primary suspect was an estranged boyfriend. The woman?s face looked familiar. Had she worked in his club? Yeah, it was possible. But what if she had? What was worse, the daily drudgery and humiliation and penury of a welfare recipient or knocking down some quasi-serious bucks by cavorting a few hours on a pole for the titty-baby brigade?

Nick knew the secret source of his discontent. His money had been his validation and his protection from the world, his payback for every time he had been shoved down on line at school or at the movie theater or chased crying into his yard by the army of street rats who claimed they were avenging the death of Jesus. Now a large part of Nick?s income was gone, and some bad ventures in commodities and mortgage companies were about to wipe out the rest of it.

Nick had nail wounds in his wrists and hands for other reasons. Although Esther pretended differently, she would probably never forgive him for his involvement in the deaths of the Asian women, regardless of the fact that he was almost as much a victim as they were. At least that was the way he saw it.

A shadow moved across the breakfast table. Nick turned in his chair, startled, knocking over his glass of milk.

?You want oatmeal?? Esther said.

?I already ate,? he replied.

?Why are you up so early??

?Restless, I guess.?

?Go on back to bed.?

?Do you want to??

?Want to what??

?Sleep some more??

?I?m going to fix some tea.?

?Maybe neither one of us got enough sleep,? Nick said, stifling a yawn. ?It?s only six-twenty. We could take a little nap. Later, we can go out for breakfast. Want to do that??

?My aerobics class is at seven-thirty.?

?Better not miss the aerobics. That?s important. They let men in there? I could use that. Jumping up and down and sweatin? to the golden oldies or whatever.? He stiffened his fingers and jabbed them against the softness of his stomach. Then he did it again, harder.

She gave him a curious look and filled a pan with water and placed it on the gas burner. ?Sure you don?t want some oatmeal??

?I?m starting a diet. I need to reform myself physically, maybe get plastic surgery while I?m at it.?

Nick went upstairs and shaved and brushed his teeth and got fully dressed, putting on a