I laughed. "Yeah. I think Mom owned three books-the Yellow Pages, the Bible and Collected Quotations."

"Why not the Bible?"

"It was a lot easier to look up good spells in Collected Quotations. And Mom would have kicked my ass for blasphemy if I'd used the Bible."

"So you were already casting spells when my father found you."

"Yeah, I was pretty far into the life, too. You name it, I was probably doing it-shoplifting, some burglary, rigged games like the dice."

"You were a total delinquent."

"Yeah, I was a thug. Really, I just wanted to learn more magic. And that's where it was happening, out on the street. I wasn't going to learn anything in a classroom."

"Did you drop out?"

"No, your dad made me finish. He said he wouldn't hire a dropout. It was bullshit, of course. Most of the guys in the outfit couldn't pass the GED if you gave them the answers."

Adan laughed. "He knew you were different."

"I think he just wanted to teach me how to finish something. It was a good lesson."

The waiter arrived, setting our pizza in the middle of the table on a family-size can of tomatoes. We stopped talking long enough to put away a slice.

"And then?" Adan asked. He reached across the table and pulled a little strand of mozzarella off my chin.

"And then, I'd probably still be out on the street if it weren't for your father. He brought me in, gave me a life."

"He trained you himself."

"Yeah. I already knew a lot of spells-I can memorize quotations all day long. But they were crude, clumsy, and I had a lot of ignorant ideas about how it all works. He didn't make me relearn everything. He just worked with what I already had and helped me put it all together."

"And then you went to work for him."

"And then I went to work for him." I spread my hands. "And here we are."

Adan laughed. I leaned across the table and opened my mouth, and he gave me a bite of his pizza. He sat back in his chair and smiled as he watched me chew. It was probably cute enough to make the other diners lose their appetites.

"And what about you?" I asked. "Who is Adan Rashan?"

He waved away the question. "You know, spoiled, lazy, rich kid who makes absolutely no contribution to society."

"I mean besides that."

Adan threw his napkin at me. "Well, I have a bachelor's degree," he said, with mock pompousness.

"What did you study?"

"I can't say. You'll laugh."

"No, I won't. Promise."

"Criminal justice."

I laughed. "Studying to be your father's consigliere?"

Adan frowned and I remembered the conversation we'd had at the beach about him and the outfit. Very smooth, Domino.

"No," he said, "I wanted to be a cop. Can you believe that? I just thought if I was stuck in the middle, maybe that was the right place for me."

I nodded. "Yeah, actually, it makes a lot of sense. And we could always use another good cop on the payroll."

"You wish," he said, laughing. "I wouldn't have been on the payroll. I just wanted to help protect the people who deserve it, you know?"

"Sure," I said. "There are still some left."

"Anyway, it didn't matter. I tried everything-LAPD, sheriff, even CHP. No one would even consider me because of who I am."

"That's stupid. You'd probably be the only honest cop on the force."

Adan shrugged and smiled. "So, I could get a job that has nothing to do with my interests, or I could have fun and spend my father's money."

"Yeah, fuck the job."

"Exactly. Can I tell you a secret?"

"You have to now," I said.

"Okay. Sometimes I think I should be desperate to do something meaningful with my life, like teach in an inner-city school or something. But I'm not. I feel like, if they don't want me, then I'm not going to worry about them, either. Does that make me shallow?"

"Probably," I said, and shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm a gangster. At least you're not leeching off the underbelly of society."

"Well, my father is your boss. I guess I am. Anyway, I don't think you're a leech, Domino."

"Okay, then I don't think you're shallow." I smiled, and then watched him for a moment, considering. "You mind if an older woman gives you a piece of advice?

He grinned and shook his head. "You have to now."

"Okay. I obviously wouldn't be doing what I'm doing if I felt the need to contribute to society. I learned pretty quick, you find something you love and you do it-not for them, but for yourself."

"And you love what you do?"

Giving advice is dangerous, especially for a gangster. "I love the magic. I always have. The rest of it-I didn't make the rules."

Adan nodded. "Anyway, you're right. I guess I'm still just looking for something I can love like that." His eyes locked with mine and stayed there until I chickened out and looked down at my plate.

We drank some more wine and picked at the remains of our pizza. We shared stories about life in the outfit, and laughed and played a little footsie under the table.

Adan was telling me about a road trip he'd taken to Cabo with some of his school friends when I saw Jamal. He was wearing a Lakers jersey, baggy jeans and Air Jordans, but he was still skinless. And transparent. He was slouching in a chair a few tables away from us.

When I locked eyes with him, the ghost flipped his head in a quick nod and flashed me a lazy peace sign. He did something with his mouth that might have been a grin, but Jesus, the guy had no lips and didn't need to be drawing attention to it.

Adan was still immersed in animated description of his vacation, and if he was seeing Jamal, he wasn't letting on. The other patrons of the restaurant were talking quietly and enjoying their pizzas, so it was pretty clear Jamal was appearing only to me. I scowled at him and jerked my head surreptitiously in the direction of the restroom. Jamal bobbed his skull, pushed himself out of the chair and faded from sight as he started toward the back of the restaurant.

"Adan, excuse me for a minute. I'm going to powder my nose."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be here."

I pushed through the door of the restroom and saw Jamal trying to press the button on the wall-mounted hand dryer. His hand was passing right through the metal. He didn't really have any facial expressions to read, but he seemed frustrated. I made sure the bathroom was otherwise unoccupied, and then locked the door.

"Uh…hi, Jamal," I said.

"Hey, D, 'bout fucking time you saw me."

"Huh?"

"Girl, I been following you all day."

"Oh. I didn't see you until just now."

Jamal stopped poking his hand into the hand dryer and turned to me. "Yeah, Domino, I get that. Guess it takes some practice manifesting and shit."

"I tried to bring you back across. Last night. Didn't work very well. Sorry."

Jamal shook his skinless head. "It worked, D. It just took a while to get my shit together."

"That's good, Jamal. I'm glad I could help you. But now you have to help me so I can put this right."

"What you think I'm doing, D?" A knife appeared in Jamal's hand, a long, curved blade like hunters use to skin their kills. "I'm gonna go Freddy Kruger on that punk-ass bitch and take his motherfucking skin."

"What bitch is that, Jamal? Who killed you?"

"What you mean, what bitch is that, bitch?" He held up his transparent hands. "No offense, D. Anyway, you brought him here."

I heard what he said, but I couldn't make any sense of the words. I just stood there and stared at him. I think maybe my mouth opened and closed a couple times, but I couldn't think of what to say.

Jamal cocked his skull and looked back at me, that hideous grin slowly stretching his face again. "Ah, shit, girl, you really didn't know. You didn't know it was him." He shook his head and laughed. "You just hot for the cat, D."