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parties for Black Moon, had polished a juggling act. They would go on first. They were laughing together (Phil only laughed when he was with Rick) as they stood clad only in floral loincloths. “At least we don’t have to wear the wigs,” the taller Rick said, grinning as he looked over the dancers.
    â€œWe look like a bunch of idiots,” Julie said bluntly. She tossed her head, and the shoulder-length black wig fell back into place flawlessly.
    â€œAt least we’re getting paid to look like idiots,” Karl said. The driver of the van that had brought them all out to the Jaslow estate, Denny James, came in to tell Karl that the sound system was all set up and ready to go. Denny, a huge burly ex-boxer, worked for Sylvia part-time. Megan and Julie had told Rue that Denny had a closer relationship with Sylvia than employer/employee, much to Rue’s astonishment. The ex-boxer hardly seemed the type to appeal to the sophisticated Sylvia, but maybe that was the attraction.
    Anxious about the coming performance, Rue began to stretch. She was already wearing the jungle-print skirt, which draped around to look like a sarong, and matching bikini panties. The bra top matched, too, a wild jungle print over green. The shoulder-length wig swung here and there as she warmed up, and the pink artificial flower wobbled. Rue’s stomach was a uniform color, thanks to Julie and Megan.
    Karl had brought the CD with their music and given it to the event planner who’d designed the whole party, a weirdly serene little woman named Jeri. On the way into the estate, Rue had noticed that the driveway had been lined with flaming torches on tall poles. The waiters and waitresses were also in costume. Jeri knew how to carry through a theme.
    Rue went over the whole routine mentally. Sean came to stand right beside her. On his way out the door with Phil, Rick gave her a kiss on the cheek for luck, and Rue managed to give him a happy smile.
    â€œNervous?” Sean asked. It came out, “Nairvous?”
    â€œYes.” She didn’t mind telling him. Head up, shoulders square, chest forward, big smile, pretty hands. “There. I’m okay now.”
    â€œWhy do you do that? That little...rearrangement?”
    â€œThat’s what my mother told me to do every time I went on stage, from the time I was five to the time I was twenty.”
    â€œYou were on stage a lot?”
    â€œBeauty pageants,” Rue said slowly, feeling as though she were relating the details of someone else’s life. “Talent contests. You name it, I was in it. It cost my parents thousands of dollars a year. I’d win something fairly often, enough to make the effort worth it, at least for my father.” She began to sink down in a split. “Press down on my shoulders.” His long, thin fingers gripped her and pressed. He always seemed to know how much pressure to apply, though she knew Sean was far stronger than any human.
    â€œDid you have brothers or sisters?” he asked, his voice quiet.
    â€œI have a brother,” she said, her eyes closed as she felt her thighs stretch to their limit. She hadn’t talked about her family in over a year.
    â€œIs your brother a handsome man?”
    â€œNo,” Rue said sadly. “No, he isn’t. He’s a sweet guy, but he’s not strong.”
    â€œSo you didn’t win every pageant you entered?” Sean teased, changing the subject.
    She opened her eyes and smiled while rising to her feet very carefully. “I won a few,” she said, remembering the glass-fronted case her mother had bought to hold all the trophies and crowns.
    â€œBut not all?” Sean widened his eyes to show amazement.
    â€œI came in second sometimes,” she conceded, mocking herself, and shot him a sideways look. “And sometimes I was Miss Congeniality.”
    â€œYou mean the other contestants thought you were the sweetest woman among