It had taken all her energy to put food on the table and clothes on his back. She’d had little of herself left over once that was done.

Then there had been Zack.

Nick could still remember the first time he’d seen his stepbrother. In the kitchen of the bar. Zack had been sitting at the counter, gobbling potato chips. He’d been tall and dark, with an easy grin and a casually generous manner. Once Nick had gotten up the courage to follow him around, Zack hadn’t tried to shake him off.

It was Zack who’d brought him into an arcade the first time, propped him up and shown him how to make the silver balls dance.

It was Zack who’d taken him to the Macy’s parade. Zack who had patiently taught him to tie his shoes. Zack who’d clobbered him when he chased a ball into traffic.

And it was Zack who, barely a year later, had left him with a sick mother and an overbearing stepfather. Postcards and souvenirs hadn’t filled the hole.

Maybe Zack wanted to make up for it, Nick thought with a shrug, then swore when the ball slipped by the flipper. And maybe, deep down, Nick wanted to let him.

“Hey, LeBeck.” The slap on his shoulder nearly made Nick lose the next ball. “Where you been hiding?”

“I’ve been around.” Nick sliced a quick glance at Cash before concentrating on his game. He wondered if Cash would make any comment about him not wearing his Cobra jacket.

“Yeah? Thought you’d dropped down the sewer.” Cash leaned against the machine, as always, appreciating Nick’s skill. “Haven’t lost your touch.”

“I’ve got great hands. Ask the babes.”

Cash snorted and lighted a crushed cigarette. His last. Since Reece had copped less than ten cents on the dollar for the stolen merchandise, Cash’s share was long gone. “Man, the chicks see that ugly face and you never get a chance to use your hands.”

“You’ve got your butt mixed up with my face.” Nick eased back on his heels, satisfied with his score and the free game he’d finessed. “Want to take this one?”

“Sure.” After stepping behind the machine, Cash began to bull his way through the game. “You still hanging with your stepbrother?”

“Yeah, got a few more weeks before we go back to court.”

Cash lost the first ball and pumped up another. “You got a tough break, Nick. I mean that, man. I feel real bad about the way it went down.”

“Right.”

“No, man. Really.” In his sincerity, Cash lost track of the ball and let it slip away. “We screwed up, and you took the heat.”

Slightly mollified, Nick shrugged. “I can handle it.”

“Still sucks. But hey, it can’t be so bad working a bar. Plenty of juice, right?”