arrested for prostitution the night before was no one he knew anymore ' she was no one' .
Chapter 4
The house in Pasadena was a long white shingled L shape, with stone fireplaces at either end, rosebushes in tidy rows in the front, and a vast expanse of green lawn leading to a huge rectangular pool filled with shrieking children. They all appeared to be in their late teens, and they were throwing a volleyball amid screams of outrage and delight, shouting each other's names, and hurling friendly insults, as a woman with a body that would have stopped traffic anywhere appeared oblivious to them. She lay, as though dead to the world, in a black bikini, her fair skin heavily oiled and tanning lightly in the morning sun, with a large straw hat over her face and a stack of towels next to her. Her breasts were large and full, spilling from the black bikini top, and then her torso narrowed sharply to a tiny waist only to move outward again to round, sensual hips that tapered into long, thin legs. She had the body of a beauty queen, which was how she had begun after arriving from Buffalo almost two decades before. Jane Adams was thirty-nine years old and her body showed no sign of having borne three children.
She opened one big blue eye and peered out from under her hat to make sure the children were all right and then went back to dozing in the sun. She wore no jewelry save a narrow gold wedding band and simple gold hoop earrings, yet the house had a definite look of substantial suburban opulence and there was a Mercedes station wagon in the garage, which she drove, a Volvo for the maid and kids to drive, and her husband had left for work in his Mercedes sedan. And the pool was large, even by Pasadena standards.
Hey ' over here ' you guys!' come on! ' The ball flew out of the pool, landing near her chair, and she bounded up with almost childlike grace, adjusting her bikini top with one hand as she ran to get it, and the young men in the pool found themselves staring at her as they always did, while her son glowered at them. It always annoyed him when his friends stared at her as though she were one of them. Thank God she wore enough clothes to cover herself most of the time. She wasn't given to low d+!collet+!s or slits in her skirt. Most of the time she looked respectable, in old Oxford shirts and wraparound skirts and espadrilles. She appeared unconscious of her striking looks. And once her body was out of sight, the rest of her looked quite unremarkable. She was a nice-looking woman with a pretty face and warm smile she shared with everyone. She had red hair and freckles on her chest and arms, and big blue eyes that seemed filled with innocence, as she threw the ball back to the children.
Ready for lunch? she called out to them, but they were already involved in the game again by the time she sat down. She always made trays of sandwiches for them, and kept the refrigerator filled with the sodas they liked and ice-cream sandwiches. After eighteen years of motherhood, she knew the things they liked best. Jason was going to UC Santa Barbara in the fall, and both girls would be in high school that year. Alyssa would be a freshman finally, after what seemed to her a lifelong wait, and Alexandra a junior, angling heavily for her own car. She claimed the Volvo was too big and too old and she wanted something racier, like the car Jack Adams had given his son the month before when he turned eighteen. Jason would be driving a Triumph to Santa Barbara in September. Alexandra thought that might be a nice car for her too. And their mother smiled to herself as she stretched out again. They were such typical teen-agers, and it was such a far cry from her own youth in Buffalo. She had almost frozen to death getting to the high school, until she turned sixteen and ran away. She got to New York and was terrified, and worked there just long enough to make the money she needed to get to L.A. ' Los Angeles ' Hollywood ' land of her dreams ' and
Chapter 4
The house in Pasadena was a long white shingled L shape, with stone fireplaces at either end, rosebushes in tidy rows in the front, and a vast expanse of green lawn leading to a huge rectangular pool filled with shrieking children. They all appeared to be in their late teens, and they were throwing a volleyball amid screams of outrage and delight, shouting each other's names, and hurling friendly insults, as a woman with a body that would have stopped traffic anywhere appeared oblivious to them. She lay, as though dead to the world, in a black bikini, her fair skin heavily oiled and tanning lightly in the morning sun, with a large straw hat over her face and a stack of towels next to her. Her breasts were large and full, spilling from the black bikini top, and then her torso narrowed sharply to a tiny waist only to move outward again to round, sensual hips that tapered into long, thin legs. She had the body of a beauty queen, which was how she had begun after arriving from Buffalo almost two decades before. Jane Adams was thirty-nine years old and her body showed no sign of having borne three children.
She opened one big blue eye and peered out from under her hat to make sure the children were all right and then went back to dozing in the sun. She wore no jewelry save a narrow gold wedding band and simple gold hoop earrings, yet the house had a definite look of substantial suburban opulence and there was a Mercedes station wagon in the garage, which she drove, a Volvo for the maid and kids to drive, and her husband had left for work in his Mercedes sedan. And the pool was large, even by Pasadena standards.
Hey ' over here ' you guys!' come on! ' The ball flew out of the pool, landing near her chair, and she bounded up with almost childlike grace, adjusting her bikini top with one hand as she ran to get it, and the young men in the pool found themselves staring at her as they always did, while her son glowered at them. It always annoyed him when his friends stared at her as though she were one of them. Thank God she wore enough clothes to cover herself most of the time. She wasn't given to low d+!collet+!s or slits in her skirt. Most of the time she looked respectable, in old Oxford shirts and wraparound skirts and espadrilles. She appeared unconscious of her striking looks. And once her body was out of sight, the rest of her looked quite unremarkable. She was a nice-looking woman with a pretty face and warm smile she shared with everyone. She had red hair and freckles on her chest and arms, and big blue eyes that seemed filled with innocence, as she threw the ball back to the children.
Ready for lunch? she called out to them, but they were already involved in the game again by the time she sat down. She always made trays of sandwiches for them, and kept the refrigerator filled with the sodas they liked and ice-cream sandwiches. After eighteen years of motherhood, she knew the things they liked best. Jason was going to UC Santa Barbara in the fall, and both girls would be in high school that year. Alyssa would be a freshman finally, after what seemed to her a lifelong wait, and Alexandra a junior, angling heavily for her own car. She claimed the Volvo was too big and too old and she wanted something racier, like the car Jack Adams had given his son the month before when he turned eighteen. Jason would be driving a Triumph to Santa Barbara in September. Alexandra thought that might be a nice car for her too. And their mother smiled to herself as she stretched out again. They were such typical teen-agers, and it was such a far cry from her own youth in Buffalo. She had almost frozen to death getting to the high school, until she turned sixteen and ran away. She got to New York and was terrified, and worked there just long enough to make the money she needed to get to L.A. ' Los Angeles ' Hollywood ' land of her dreams ' and
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