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the door to look at her. His face was pale and sweaty—excited. “You’re looking good, Roxy.”
    She knew he went for classy, girly girls most of the time, so Roxy’s combination of wild black hair, no makeup, and less fashion sense wasn’t what drew him back to her. She looked great naked, that was the main thing. Sometimes she gunked her lashes with mascara and made her mouth juicier with plum-colored lipstick, but not tonight.
    “You’re going to make me feel even better, right?”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    Trey Hyde was several inches taller than his much older brother, and he’d have been a few degrees more attractive if he’d laid off the costumes. People magazine had once photographed him in a skipper’s cap and full yachting regalia—the photogenic front man for the treasure-hunting venture—and he’d taken to dressing that way all the time. Tonight he wore sand-blasted jeans, deck shoes, and a collarless blue sweater with a sailboat logo. All he needed was a white cap and a long cigarette holder to look like Thurston Howell III on his way to a desert island with Gilligan.
    Roxy folded his money into her pocket and walked past Trey into the apartment. Polished concrete floors, no walls. The foyer was a cool, empty space except for a pedestal with a large openmouthed pottery jar—Aztec, to hear Trey tell it. One of his expeditions brought it up from the bottom of the Caribbean, he said, but it could have come from Pier 1.
    The foyer expanded into a living-dining area furnished by a decorator who obviously thought a Moby-Dick theme would be dandy. A harpoon on one wall, a stainless-steel table with a sailing-ship model on top—sails tilted as if catching a stiff breeze. A shallow glass case filled with gold coins lay displayed on a side table. A diver’s helmet had been converted into a lamp. The rest of the loft was dark except for the undulating underwater colors of a muted television. Gave Roxy the feeling she was inside a fish tank.
    Through a doorway lay a king-sized bed, silver sheets pulled tight, gray pillows neatly stacked. Ready.
    Trey hung back behind her, probably admiring her ass, but Roxy could almost feel the vibration of his nervous energy.
    Across from the bed, a huge television hung on the wall, tuned to the eleven o’clock news with the sound turned off. Beside it, a window framed a spectacular view of the city—all sparkling lights and the shining blackness of the river with a glitter of rain glistening around it all. A tugboat was passing by the building, pushing three barges laden with coal upriver against the deluge.
    Roxy turned back to Trey and unzipped her top sweatshirt and pulled it off. She noticed a new affectation flashing in his earlobe. “Nice earring, Captain Blood. But isn’t it supposed to be a gold hoop?”
    He fingered the diamond, smiling a little nervously now that they’d reached the bed. “Do you like it?”
    She flicked his earring with her finger, ignoring his question. Which was what he wanted, really. The tougher she treated him, the shinier his face got. Make him wait, she thought. Make some conversation while his imagination stimulated the rest of him. She hooked one finger behind the snap of his jeans and unzipped him. “Did you come home to help your big brother dynamite what’s left of the mansion tomorrow?”
    “I guess you haven’t heard.”
    “About?”
    “My brother died tonight.”
    Roxy pulled away, foreplay forgotten. If he’d punched her in the gut, she wouldn’t have been more shocked. “Died?”
    Motionless, Trey said, “You look surprised.”
    “Of course I’m surprised. Jesus Christ.” Blown away, more like it. And sick. Her last glance at Julius—walking away from his pool, looking forlorn—suddenly surged up in Roxy’s mind.
    And now he was dead?
    Trey said, “I thought you might have known already. Considering you were at the house tonight.”
    The air in the loft was suddenly too cold for Roxy to breathe, but it