had the face of an angel, and the body of a stripper, and her outfit needed to be burned. She would have looked incredible with the right hairdo and decent clothes, but life dealt the hands it did. And she had done all right for tonight, for a poor girl from Queens who worked at Pier 92. She was sitting on the stage at Vana's show, in a special seat.
“I'll come find you after the show,” he promised her, and meant it for a minute, and then suddenly she bounced up from the seat and gave him a hug like a little kid. There were tears in her eyes.
“Thank you for what you did for me. It's the nicest thing anyone's ever done.” The look in her eyes made him feel guilty for his earlier lascivious thoughts. Putting her on the stage had been easy for him.
“Don't worry about it,” he said as he turned to leave, and then she grabbed his arm.
“What's your name?” She wanted to know who her benefactor was, and he looked startled. They weren't likely to meet again.
“Adam Weiss,” he said, and then ran back to his own seat. The lights were being dimmed. Two minutes later, as he sat next to Charlie, the show began. Charlie leaned toward him briefly just before Vana came out.
“Did you find her a seat?” He had been mesmerized by her. Charlie had never seen anyone quite like her up close. Girls who looked like that were definitely not his thing.
“I did,” Adam whispered. “She said she wants to go out with you,” he said with a mock-serious look, and Charlie laughed.
“Not likely. Did you get her phone number, blood type, and address?”
“No, just her bra size. It's a lot bigger than her IQ,” Adam said with a wicked grin.
“Don't be mean,” Charlie scolded him. “She was sweet.”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe we'll take her to the party with us, after the show.” Charlie gave him a grim look. He thought the concert would be enough for him. This was not his scene, although he had always liked Vana's music. And he did that night too.
The show was fabulous, and Vana played seven encores. She had never looked or sounded better. Maggie came back to visit them during intermission, to thank Adam again. He put an arm around her shoulders and invited her to the party then. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him again, while Adam felt the impact of her breasts on his chest. Hers were real, and so was her nose. Everything she had had been God's gift, not store-bought. He hadn't seen a girl like her in years.
“You shouldn't do that,” Charlie said quietly after she went back to her seat, before the second act began.
“Do what?” Adam asked innocently. He could still feel her breasts on his chest. He had liked it a lot. He always did. He knew a million women like her, but none of them were real.
“Take advantage of young girls. She may dress like a hooker, but you can see she's a sweet kid. Don't be a shitheel, Adam. It'll come back to haunt you one day. You wouldn't want someone doing that to your kid.”
“If my kid dressed like that, I'd kill her, and so would her mother.” He had wanted to bring both his kids to the show, but Rachel wouldn't let him. She said it was a school night, and she didn't want their kids in an atmosphere like that. She said they were too young. He had nice, wholesome kids.
“Maybe Maggie doesn't have anyone to tell her not to dress like that.” She looked like she'd gone to a lot of trouble to put her outfit together that night, but somewhere along the way, in her enthusiasm, it had gone wrong. But there wasn't much you could do too wrong to a face and body like hers. She'd been blessed. And maybe one day, when she grew up, she'd learn to tone it down, rather than up.
“I guess not,” Adam commented drily, “if she works at Pier 92.” He had been there once and couldn't believe how bad it was. Every sleazeball on Broadway came in to paw the girls while they ate and drank. The waitresses weren't topless or naked, but they might as well have been, given how little they wore. They wore dresses that looked like mini–tennis skirts, and underneath them thongs, and on top cheesy satin bras that they were