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Donna dreamed of winning the contest. If she accomplished something that her brother couldn’t do, just maybe her father would love her as he did Warren.
    She was thankful he hadn’t shown up on the night of the crowning to see her fail so miserably. As fourth — and last — runner-up, Donna won $250 in cash and a year’s supply of Ingenue cosmetics.

CHAPTER 9
     
     
    Tammy anxiously looked out the window of her new house on Strawberry Lane. She had told Brad 6:00 p.m . It was now 6:35.
    She’d met Brad Segal at The Fitness Center the month before when he came to work there as a trainer. He had the body of an Atlas, but, she told herself ruefully, he could never measure up to Gary.
    With a tooth-gnashing roar, a motorcycle pulled into the driveway. Her date, wearing faded Levis and a camouflage tank top under a denim vest, hopped off the bike. As he headed toward the front door, Tammy looked down at her aqua minisheath and pumps. She’d have to change clothes to match Brad’s scruffy attire. She opened the door, ushered him inside, and greeted him warmly with a kiss, saying nothing of his lateness.
    “ Say, babe, would you mind if we stayed in tonight?” he asked. “Maybe call for a pizza or somethin’?”
    Disappointment washed over her. In the four weeks they’d been seeing each other on a regular basis, he’d taken her out once —the first date. The rest of the time was spent at her house. “No, of course not,” she said, smiling.
    “ I could sure use a Bud to wash the bugs outta my throat.”
    “ Comin’ up.”
    “ Christ, it’s hot in here.” He walked to the sliding glass door that led to the patio and opened it. Before Tammy could shout a warning, Warrior, the Kowalskis’ black Labrador, raced around the side of the house, barking like a mad dog, and became airborne. Brad slid the door shut just as the dog slammed against it.
    “ Jesus Christ, I keep forgetting about that stupid beast,” Brad said.
    “ Sorry, sugar. He’s really very friendly. He’s just not used to you yet. Maybe if you—”
    “ Look, forget it, okay?” Brad said. “I don’t like him. He don’t like me. There’s no law says we gotta be friends.”
    Brad flopped down on the recliner and, with the TV remote control, zipped through the channels until he found an English-dubbed Kung Fu movie.
    Tammy ordered pizza. She made a green salad, set the table in the dining room with cloth napkins, candles, and a bottle of Chianti. At least it would be romantic.
    When the pizza came. Brad made no move to reach into his pocket. He had invited her out to dinner that night, but she would end up paying. Again. She kept the refrigerator stocked with his favorite brand of beer and snacks. She bought his chewing tobacco, which he spit in her good glasses. She lent him money when he was short, loans he seemed to forget.
    Feeling a tension headache coming on, she clasped her hands together and said, “Salad and pizza’s ready in the dining room.”
    “ Here’s fine.” He patted the arm of the chair.
    While he watched TV and devoured the pizza, she went to the bedroom, changed into her jeans and a halter top, then returned to sit on the floor in front of his chair, massaging his feet and thinking about Gary.
    When the movie ended they went into the bedroom. Although she had a blinding headache, it never crossed her mind to refuse. They undressed themselves. The slow, easy manner in which he shed his clothes made Tammy think of a striptease. He stood motionless, looking down at her while she kissed and caressed his body, his muscles jumping, flexing beneath her fingers. With subtle prompting, he cupped her breasts, rubbing almost absently, while she brought him to full erection. Then standing, facing each other, he entered her. Suddenly he came alive, turned into a sex machine, his fingers teasing, his moans filling the room, his slick muscled body moving rhythmically, like choreographed moves in dance. At one point amid his sighs