Got Your Number

like a prized piece of artwork. Professionally matted in Fighting Irish Green and framed in satiny cherrywood, the piece was fantastically out of place against the peeling wallpaper. Getting a degree was the only thing she'd ever done that had pleased her father, but the precious piece of paper had led to an even bigger rift between them when she'd "thrown away her education" to become involved with Rescue. Her father had had his heart set on her attending law school—
    "Are you okay?" Angora asked.
    "Sure." She made her feet move and picked a path across the living room. "I'm sorry—Dad's a slob."
    "He's a lonely bachelor."
    Her cousin had always had a soft spot for Roxann's father. Probably because she only saw him at his best once a year at Dee's Christmas shindig.
    "When was the last time you were home?" Angora asked.
    "Dad and I communicate best over the phone." Besides, she couldn't recall.
    She led the way down a narrow hallway and pushed open the door to the bedroom that used to be hers. She blinked. The room hadn't been changed since she'd last slept there. Though the yellow comforter was faded, it was neatly made, topped with two denim pillows that she'd made in sophomore home ec. True to the Craftsman bungalow style of the house, the ceiling was low, and the room compact, large enough to hold only the bed, a bureau, and an upholstered chair. A small green braided rug lay at the foot of her bed. She used to leap out of bed and hit that rug, then jump to a fuzzy mat in the bathroom so her feet wouldn't touch the cold wood floors.
    Step on a crack, you'll break your mother's back. And the wood floors had had so many cracks to avoid.
    On top of the dark judges paneling that encompassed the walls, she'd hung panels of corkboard, which were still dotted with curled, yellowed clippings and snapshots of long-forgotten acquaintances. An eight-by-ten of her high school senior portrait sat on the headboard in a dated frame. She hadn't been smiling. Roxann glanced at Angora—the Spartan little room was a far cry from her cousin's wonderland boudoir, with a walk-in closet and sitting room with phone and TV.
    "Looks like your dad is hoping you'll come back home to live," was all she said.
    "Yeah, right, at my age?" Too late, she remembered her cousin's housing arrangement. "Oh—sorry. I'm sure you have a good reason for living at home."
    "Not really. Where do you live?"
    "Biloxi. For now."
    "Oh." Angora stepped out of her shoes, losing three inches in the process, but settled down to a respectable five feet and six inches anyway. They were identical in height. "If I don't get out of this dress, I'm going to kill myself."
    No wonder—she looked as if she'd been poured into the gown to begin with, and it had surely shrunk from the wetness. Roxann tackled the zipper, recalling that Angora had always struggled to keep her curves at bay, with Dee breathing down her neck at every meal. When the zipper gave way, her cousin practically groaned in relief. She peeled the wet silk from her shoulders and stepped out of the gown, revealing a strapless elastic bodysuit that extended from armpit to knee, and looked painful as hell.
    "The bathroom's through there," Roxann said, pointing. She dropped to sit on the foot of her bed, instantly reminded of the creaky springs. "But it's just a tub, no shower."
    "A bath sounds like heaven."
    To her, too, but she'd give Angora first crack. The girl had had a bad day.
    Angora pushed open the door, then stopped. From her vantage point on the bed, Roxann saw her cousin's eyes widen at her disheveled hair and makeup reflected in the wavy mirror on the opposite wall. Her chin began to wobble. She slowly lifted the rhinestone tiara from her head and placed it on the avocado-green sink, then removed what pins were left in her sodden hair. The look in her eyes scared Roxann—hatred?
    "Let me get the water started," she volunteered, and slipped past Angora into the bathroom. "I remember the stopper was a little tricky."
    The old porcelain tub was dusty, but otherwise still in good shape. She turned on the water, which ran rusty for a few seconds, then swished her hand around the sides. The rubber stopper nestled into place just fine and the water ran warm almost immediately. She checked the medicine cabinet and found some gel bath balls that were stuck together from age. After tossing a handful into the water, she turned a smile back to Angora, who was still staring at herself in the mirror.
    "In