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“A lot of things can cause lung cancer,” the doctor says. “Exposure to radon, pollutants, diesel exhaust . . .”
I’m shaking my head. This can’t be happening.
“Nothing is certain yet,” the doctor says. “We’ll take a tissue sample and—”
I can’t even hear the words coming out of his mouth. I’m looking at my dad, who’s sitting silently on the edge of the gurney, coveralls swapped out for one of those humiliating smocks that don’t even close all the way up the back. He looks skinny and pale.
He’s forty-six. There’s no way he has cancer.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I say to him. “It’s probably something else.”
I’m forcing a smile.
Meanwhile I’m sinking down, down, down into deep black water.
12
NERO
Ihead back to Levi Cargill’s house because he’s throwing another party and I assume Bella will be there. He makes a good little racket off these shindigs—charging a cover at the door, five dollars for shitty beer, and then selling harder stuff through his little army of minions.
He never touches the product himself. That’s what makes him a good kingpin—always delegating.
Also, he loves a good theme. Tonight is some kind of foam party—he’s got machines spraying spurts of rainbow-hued bubbles all over the front and back yards. The swimming pool is so full of soap that it’s more suds than water.
Most of the girls are wearing bikinis, or they were when the party started. Now they’re naked and slippery, tossing around beach balls, or making out with each other to attract all the more male attention.
Trust me, I’d love to give them that attention. Unfortunately, I’ve got to find the one girl I’d rather not see.
Sure enough, Bella is reclining on a giant inflatable flamingo in the middle of the pool, along with her best buddy Beatrice. The two girls are wearing matching white bikinis. Bella’s is the kind that basically consists of three little triangles held on with string.
She’s tanned and fit. She’s managed to keep her makeup in place, despite all the foam. I really should give her credit.
But I’m not going to.
Bella demands that I be attracted to her. She expects it.
I hate being told what to do.
Still, I need something from her. So I slouch down on one of the pool-side lounge chairs, letting Bella float around right in my line of sight. I give her exactly what she wants, which is my eyes on her bare flesh. I watch her giggling and posing with Beatrice, throwing glances my way. Until she finally rolls off the flamingo and paddles over to me.
She climbs up the ladder, water streaming down her body. Her stiff nipples poke through the white bikini top. She tosses back her cap of blonde hair, which she carefully kept out of the pool.
“See something you like?” she purrs.
“Yeah. Where can I get one of those floaties?” I say.
“You can have mine.”
“That’s generous.”
“I’m a nice person,” Bella says sweetly. “Once you get to know me.”
“Maybe you’re right, Bella. Maybe we should go for lunch sometime.”
She raises an eyebrow, mildly suspicious. “What, like a date?”
“Just two people eating food at the same table. Getting to know each other better.”
