eleven months； the other thirteen； and neither lover had left her a single troubling memory。 Nevertheless； neither man had helped her banish the vicious dreams； which continued to plague her periodically； and she'd been unable to achieve an emotional bond equal to the physical intimacy。 To a man whom she loved； Chyna could give her body； but even for love； she could not entirely give her mind and heart。 She was afraid to mit herself； to trust without reservation。 No one in her life； with the possible exception of Laura Templeton…stunt driver and dream flier…had ever earned total trust。
Wind shrieked along the sides of the car。 In the flickering shadows and fiery light； the long incline ahead of them seemed to be a ramp； as if they were going to be launched into space when they reached the top； vaulting across a dozen burning buses while a stadium full of thrill…seekers cheered。
〃What if a tire blows？〃 Chyna asked。
〃The tires won't blow；〃 Laura said confidently。
〃What if one does？〃
Wrenching her face into an exaggerated； demonic grin； Laura said； 〃Then we're just girl jelly in a can。 They won't even be able to separate the remains into two distinct bodies。 A total amorphous mess。 They won't even need coffins for us。 They'll just pour our remains in a jug and put us in one grave； and the headstone will read： Laura Chyna Templeton Shepherd。 Only a Cuisinart Would Have Been More Thorough。 〃
Chyna had hair so dark that it was virtually black； and Laura was a blue…eyed blonde； yet they were enough alike to be sisters。 Both were five feet four and slender； they wore the same dress size。 Each had high cheekbones and delicate features。 Chyna had always felt that her mouth was too wide； but Laura； whose mouth was as wide as Chyna's； said it wasn't wide at all but merely 〃generous〃 enough to ensure an especially winning smile。
As Laura's love of speed proved； however； they were in some ways profoundly different people。 The differences； perhaps more than the similarities； were what drew them to each other。
〃You think your mom and dad will like me？〃 Chyna asked。
〃I thought you were worried about a blown tire。〃
〃I'm a multichannel worrier。 Will they like me？〃
〃Of course they'll like you。 You know what I worry about？〃 Laura asked as they raced toward the top of the incline。
〃Apparently； not death。〃
〃You。 I worry about you；〃 Laura said。 She glanced at Chyna； and her expression was uncharacteristically serious。
〃I can take care of myself；〃 Chyna assured her。
〃I don't doubt that。 I know you too well to doubt that。 But life isn't just about taking care of yourself； keeping your head down； getting through。〃
〃Laura Templeton； girl philosopher。〃
〃Life is about living。〃
〃Deep；〃 Chyna said sarcastically。
〃Deeper than you think。〃
The Mustang crested the long hill； and there were no burning buses or cheering multitudes； but ahead of them was an older…model Buick； cruising well below the posted limit。 Laura cut their speed by more than half； and they pulled behind the other car。 Even in the fading light； Chyna could see that the round…shouldered driver was a white…haired； elderly man。
They were in a no…passing zone。 The road rose and fell； turned left and right； rose again； and they could not see far ahead。
Laura switched on the Mustang headlights； hoping to encourage the driver of the Buick either to increase his speed or to ease over where the shoulder widened to let them pass。
〃Take your own advice…relax； kiddo；〃 Chyna said。
〃Hate to be late for dinner。〃
〃From everything you've said about her； I don't think your mom's the type to beat us with wire coat hangers。〃
〃Mom's the best。〃
〃So relax；〃 Chyna said。
〃But she has this disappointed look she gives you that's worse than wire coat hangers。 Most people don't know this； but Mom is the reason the Cold War ended。 Several years ago； the Pentagon sent her off to Moscow so she could give the whole damn Politburo the Look； and all those Soviet thugs just collapsed with remorse。〃
Ahead of them； the old man in the Buick checked his rearview mirror。
The white hair in the headlight beams； the angle of the man's head； and the mere suggestion of his eyes reflected in the mirror suddenly engendered in Chyna a powerful sense of deja vu。 For a moment； she didn't understand why a chill came over her…but then she was cast back in memory to an incident that she had long tried unsuccessfully to forget： another twilight； nineteen years ago； a lonely Florida highway。
〃Oh； Jesus；〃 she said。
Laura glanced at her。 〃What's wrong？〃
Chyna closed her eyes。
〃Chyna； you're as white as a ghost。 What is it？〃
〃A long time ago 。。。 when I was just a little girl； seven years old 。。。 Maybe we were in the Everglades； maybe not 。。。 buttheland was swampy like the 'glades。 There weren't many trees； and the few you could see were hung with Spanish moss。 Everything was flat as far as you could see； lots of sky and flatness； the sunlight red and fading like now； a back road somewhere； far away from anything； very rural； two narrow lanes； so damn empty and lonely。 。 。 。〃
Chyna had been with her mother and Jim Woltz； a Key West drug dealer and gunrunner with whom they had lived now and then； for a month or two at a time； during her childhood。 They had been on a business trip and had been returning to the Keys in Woltzs vintage red Cadillac； one of those models with massive tailfins and with what seemed to be five tons of chrome grillwork。 Woltz was driving fast on that straight highway； exceeding a hundred miles an hour at times。 They hadn't encountered another car for almost fifteen minutes before they roared up behind the elderly couple in the tan Mercedes。 The woman was driving。 Birdlike。 Close…cropped silver hair。 Seventyfive if she was a day。 She was doing forty miles an hour。 Woltz could have pulled around the Mercedes； they were in a passing zone； and no traffic was in sight for miles on that dead…flat highway。
〃But he was high on something；〃 Chyna told Laura； eyes still closed； watching the memory with growing dread as it played like a movie on a screen behind her eyes。 〃He was most of the time high on something。 Maybe it was cocaine that day。 I don't know。 Don't remember。 He was drinking too。 They were both drinking； him and my mother。 They had a cooler full of ice。 Bottles of grapefruit juice and vodka。 The old lady in the Mercedes was driving really slow； and that incensed Woltz。 He wasn't rational。 What did it matter to him？ He could've pulled around her。 But the sight of her driving so slow on the wide…open highway infuriated him。 Drugs and booze； that's all。 So irrational。 When he was angry 。。。 red…faced； arteries throbbing in his neck； jaw muscles bulging。 No one could get angry quite as totally as Jim Woltz。 His rage excited my mother。 Always excited her。 So she teased him； encouraged him。 I was in the backseat； hanging on tight； pleading with her to stop； but she kept at him。〃
For a while； Woltz had hung close behind the other car； blowing his horn at the elderly couple； trying to force them to go faster。 A few times he had nudged the rear bumper of the Mercedes with the front bumper of the Cadillac； metal kissing metal with a squeal。 Eventually the old woman got rattled and began to swerve erratically； afraid to go faster with Woltz so close behind her but too frightened of him to pull off the road and let him pass by。
〃Of course；〃 Chyna said； 〃he wouldn't have gone past and left her alone。 By then he was too psychotic。 He would have stopped when she stopped。 It still would have ended badly。〃
Woltz had pulled alongside the Mercedes a few times； driving in the wrong lane； shouting and shaking his fist at the white…haired couple； who first tried to ignore him and then stared back wide…eyed and fearfui。 Each time； rather than drive by and leave them in his dust； he had dropped behind again to play tag with their rear bumper。 To Woltz； in his drug fever and alcoholic haze； this harassment was deadly serious business； with an importance and a meaning that could never be understood by anyone who was clean and sober。 To Chyna's mother； Anne； it was all a game； an adventure； and it was she； in her ceaseless search for excitement； who said； Why don't we give her a driving test？ Woltz said； Test？ I don't need to give the old bitch a test to see she can't drive for shit。 This time； as Woltz pulled beside the Mercedes； matching speeds with it； Anne said； I mean； see if she can keep it on the road。 Make it a challenge for her。
To Laura； Chyna recalled； 〃There was a canal parallel to the road； one of those drainage channels you see along some Florida highways。 Not deep but deep enough。 Woltz used the Cadillac to crowd the Mercedes onto the shoulder of the road。 The woman should have crowded him back； forced him the other way。 She should have tramped the pedal to the floor and pegged the speedometer and gotten the hell out of there。 The Mercedes would've outrun the Cadillac； no problem。 But she was old and scared； and she'd never encountered anyone like this。 I think she was just disbelieving； so unable to understand the kind of people she was up against； unable to grasp how far they'd go even though she and her husband had done noth