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floor spotless, mirrors on the wall, a small end table with keys and a stack of mail. He rocked from one foot to the other.
    “Listen, Alex—”
    “I know,” he said. “I’m late with my check. We had a screw-up at the bar, everybody’s pay was held. It should be hitting the bank today. I’ll put it in the mail tomorrow.”
    “And what about last month?”
    “I told you. The IRS, they—”
    “You always have an excuse.”
    “It’s not an excuse,” he said quietly, “if it’s true.”
    “Last month wasn’t the first time. More like the tenth.”
    “Trish, what do you want from me? I’m working double shifts. I live in a dump. I’m not spending money on hookers and blow. If the lawyer your father paid for hadn’t gotten the child support set so ridiculously high, maybe I could make some progress.”
    His ex shook her head. “We were very generous.”
    “You’re generous about letting me see her. But I owe you half my paycheck. How am I supposed to live?”
    “She’s your daughter. This is a way of showing that you’ll always be there for her.”
    “Hey.” His voice rough. “I will always be there for her.”
    She looked downward as she spun her new wedding ring. “I know you love her. I do. And she loves you. But it can’t go on like this.” She sighed. “Listen. There’s something—”
    Behind him, Cassie rumbled down the steps like an avalanche. “Hi, Daddy!” She came straight into his arms with a hug. He scooped her up and squeezed her tight. Over her shoulder, Trish opened her mouth, closed it, then looked away. Alex was content to let her. Whatever she had been about to say, it hadn’t sounded good.
    Cassie was all happy chatter as they drove out of the neighborhood: the Rollerblades his ex-wife’s husband had bought her, a reality show on MTV, how her soccer team was going to the play-offs, and could he make the game?
    “I’ll try, sweetie.” He stopped at a red light. “Where do you want to eat?”
    They settled on TGI Friday’s, the corner booth. A perky teenager seated them, plunked down plastic tumblers of water. Eighties pop drifted through deep-fried air. While Cassie studied her menu, he studied her, amazed, as always, at her sheer physicality: her tan forearms and bright eyes and the way she twisted a curl of hair as she concentrated. She wore a tank top with lacy straps, and her ears were pierced. That was new, and he didn’t love it.
    They ordered, an elaborate salad for her, hold the cheese, dressing on the side, and a cheeseburger for him, rare. “Want a milk shake?”
    She shook her head. “I’m on a diet.”
    “A diet?”
    “Yup.” She seemed proud of it, and he didn’t push, didn’t tell her that she was perfect just the way she was, bright and beautiful and softly rounded with the remnants of baby fat. He just ordered a chocolate malt of his own, and two straws.
    The server left, and they looked at each other. “So.”
    “So,” she said and smiled.
    “How’s tricks, Trix? Tell me everything.”
    She giggled and started in, and he leaned back, content to listen. Sometimes she was solemn and asked him questions about his life that seemed like they’d been prompted by a discussion he hadn’t been privy to. But today she was her normal self, bubbly and concerned only with the everyday things that made up a ten-year-old life. Their food came, and he pushed the milk shake forward just enough that she could reach it.
    “We’re going to Hilton Head next month.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Scott is taking us.” She always made a point of referring to Trish’s new husband by his first name, at least around him. Maybe at home she called him Daddy too, but never in front of Alex. “We have a hotel right on the beach. With a pool, too. And there’s dancing at night, Mom says.”
    “Sounds like fun.” His burger was bitter and burned.
    “Maybe you could come too.”
    “I wish I could.”
    “I bet Mom and Scott wouldn’t mind.”
    He was positive that