Its so hard to believe that this is really me. Sometimes you look in the mirror and its a stranger that stares back. Face thin and pale with-out make...up. Black hair tumbling over white shoulders. Green eyes with flecks of orange swirling around in them like distant galaxies. (Mum once told me that for a while after I was born she felt that I was still part of her. It was like the cord had never been cut. She couldnt separate us. Shed look at this small pink wriggling bundle in her arms and. . I was fairly confident, but I couldn't be certain. I needed more information. And the way things stood, there was only one source left to me I could trust.Who'd a thunk it?The one and only person left in all the world I trusted, and who didn't carry one of my rings.My father.Time to pick up the pace. Time to get home.I could feel them in front of me. All of them; the girls, the kids, Harmon, Sly and their men ... Peggy's horses. I felt each and every one, knew where they were in relation to. There was no turning back. She rationalized that the stars had created the events of the day in such a way that this was her right, her duty to strike out with a statement of racial equality like this. “Do me,” was all she could say.Akil took Amy’s legs and spread them wide. He took his hand and rubbed it against the crotch of her pants, feeling the heat emanating from her core. Amy responded by rubbing herself against his hand like a stripper half her age would do. She placed her elbows. 95". She had indeed done just that -- Blake had helped her pick it out -- and it had gotten onto at least six magazine covers that he'd seen.But that was image, and she put it on as easily as putting on clothes. The private Jenny, the one he saw, the one that perhaps only he and Jenny shared, reminded him of Marilyn Monroe, too. The real Monroe. Perhaps only Jenny and he knew that Jenny Easton was a desperately unhappy camper.If Blake had to sum Jenny up in a word, that word would be.