was Doro and nothing I did seemed to reach him? He either had time for me or he didn’t.
And if he didn’t, I could have walked around naked and he wouldn’t have noticed.
But because he wanted it, I chose some dresses, some really nice pants, a few other things. I didn’t steal anything. My headache sort of faded back to normal and my witchy reflection in the dressing-room mirror relaxed back to just strange-looking. Doro had said once that, except for my eyes and coloring, I look a lot like Emma?like the young version of Emma, I mean. My eyes?traffic-light green, Rina called them?and my skin, a kind of light coffee, were gifts from the white man’s body that Doro was wearing when he got Rina pregnant. Some poor guy from a religious colony Doro controlled in Pennsylvania. Doro had people all over.
When he decided that I had bought enough, he paid for it with a check for more money than I had ever seen in my life. He had some kind of by-mail arrangement with the banks. A lot of banks. He ordered everything delivered to the hotel where he was staying. I waited until we were out of the store to ask him why he’d done that.
“I want you to stay with me for a few days,” he told me.
I was surprised, but I just looked at him. “Okay.”
“You have something to get used to. And for your own sake, I want you to take your time. Do all your yelling and screaming now, while it can’t hurt you.”
“Oh, Lord. What are you going to give me to yell and scream about?”
“You’re getting married.”
I looked at him. He’d said those words or others like them to Rina once. To Emma heaven knew how many times. Evidently, my time had come. “You mean to you, don’t you?”
“No.”
I wasn’t afraid until he said that. “Who, then!”
“One of my sons. Not related to you at all, by the way.”
“A stranger? Some total stranger and you want me to marry him?”
“You will marry him.” He didn’t use that tone much with me?or with anyone, I think. It was reserved for when he was telling you to do something he would kill you for not doing. A quiet, chilly tone of voice.
“Doro, why couldn’t you be him? Take him and let me marry you.”
“Kill him, you mean.”
“You kill people all the time.”
He shook his head. “I wonder if you’re going to grow out of that.”
“Out of what?”
“Your total disregard for human life?except for your own, of course.”
“Oh, come on! Shit, the devil himself is going to preach me a sermon!”
“Maybe transition will change your thinking.”
“If it does, I don’t see how I’ll be able to stand you.”
He smiled. “You don’t realize it, but that might really be a problem. You’re an experimental model. Your predecessors have had trouble with me.”
“Don’t talk about me like I was a new car or something.” I frowned and looked at him. “What kind of trouble?”
“Never mind. I won’t talk about you like you were a new car.”
“Wait a minute,” I said more seriously. “I mean it, Doro. What kind of trouble?”
He didn’t answer.
“Are any of them still alive?”
He still didn’t answer.
I took a deep breath, stared out the window. “Okay, so how do I keep from having trouble with you?”
He put an arm around me, and for some reason, instead of flinching away, I moved over close to him. “I’m not threatening you,” he said.
“Yes you are. Tell me about this son of yours.”
He drove me over to Palo Verde Avenue, where the rich people lived. When he stopped, it was in front of a three-story white stucco mansion. Spanish tile roof, great arched doorway, clusters of palm trees and carefully trimmed shrubs, acres of front lawn, one square block of house and grounds.
“This is his house,” said Doro.
“Damn,” I muttered. “He owns it? The whole thing?”
“Free and clear.”
“Oh, Lord.” Something occurred to me suddenly. “Is he white?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Doro. Man, what are you trying to do to me?”
“Get you some help. You’re going to need it.”
“What the hell can he do for me that you can’t? God, he’ll take one look at me and … Doro, just the fact that he
