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loitered outside on the snow-bordered basketball court. From the room next door to Jack’s cramped and cluttered office came the low murmur of female voices speaking Spanish. A workshop for girls was in session.
    Derek plucked at the moth-eaten red jacket. “I didn’t realize you were expecting a miracle on Thirty-fourth Street,” he grumbled. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this, Riley.”
    “Maybe,” said Jack, adjusting his thick glasses, “it’s your innate sense of human decency, Derek. Your firm conviction that helping underprivileged kids is the right thing to do.” Jack rolled up a stick of Juicy Fruit and stuffed it into his mouth. “Not to mention the Knicks tickets you extorted from me.”
    “Or maybe it’s because you keep threatening to break my kneecaps. Why do you waste time in this dump, anyway?”
    Because of Annie
. The thought awakened a six-year-old ache in Jack. He had loved her with all his heart, butlove wasn’t enough to save her. In a way, this center was a monument to his first love. Every kid who stayed out of trouble embodied the promise that had been wasted when Annie had died.
    “Well?” Derek prompted.
    Jack rubbed his hand along his jaw. “I once lost a good friend to drugs and gang wars.”
    “Man, I’m sorry—”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    Derek picked up the Santa hat, and the pom-pom fell off. “I won’t fool anyone in this getup.”
    “Sure, you will.” Jack felt a perverse shiver course over his skin. He took off his cap and ran a hand through his hair. “People see what they want to see.”
    Derek propped one elbow on a file cabinet and fingered a macramé plant hanger. The macramé had been done by Maria, one of the center’s borderline cases. Jack wondered where Maria had gotten to lately.
    “What’d you do to yourself, Riley?” Derek asked, pulling Jack from his thoughts. “Something’s different.”
    Jack’s ears caught fire with a guilty flush. He put his cap back on and tugged down the brim. “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know. Something …” Derek peered closer. “Hey, you shaved for a change. Wonders never cease.”
    Jack held his breath while trying to look casual. “A latent sense of decency.”
    “Uh-huh. So how’d it go last night? How’d you make out?”
    Jack felt the blood drain from his face.
Damn
. Derek
knew
.
    “Well?” Derek prompted, unbuttoning the disreputable Santa suit. “Spill.”
    “Spill?” Jack almost choked on his gum.
    “What was she like? Wild and sweet? Cruel to be kind?”
    “Jesus, Derek, quit with the third degree.”
    “I always wanted to make it with an Urban Animal,” Derek said wistfully.
    Jack barely managed to conceal his sigh of relief. “Yeah, well, it won’t happen if you don’t take a chance every now and then.”
    “I guess.” Derek shrugged out of the bright red jacket. He held it up and peered at a hole that looked as if it had been made by a bullet. “This is hopeless. Looks like Santa’s been living in Tompkins Square Park instead of the North Pole.”
    “Maybe it’s you,” Jack said. “Maybe you’re hungover.”
    “Me?” Derek snorted. “You don’t get hungover after a Madeleine Langston party. No one drinks too much at those things. Too dangerous, what with all the society gossips sniffing around.” He paused and frowned. “Well, that’s almost right.”
    Jack looked at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Funniest thing.” Derek shed the rest of the Santa suit and put it in a battered Macy’s bag. “One person overdid it last night. Last person you’d expect.”
    “Yeah?” Jack pretended benign interest.
    “Madeleine Langston. Not too many people noticed, but Brad and I did. You didn’t see the paper this morning? Wornich’s column?”
    “I never read Wornich. What’s to read?” Jack suppressed a shudder at the memory of the knowing, teasing voice on Madeleine’s answering machine.
    Derek grabbed the folded