Page 100 of Johnny

“Right, but…”

“I think we should do it this way. I think this is the safest way for everyone involved.”

“Um… OK then. If you think it’s best.”

“I do.”

“Well, you’re the criminal mastermind, right?” And then, I don’t know why, but I reach over on the

coffee table and pick up one of the packages he sent to the room earlier.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “You should open that. All of them, actually.”

The little box in my hand is glossy and white. Tied up prettily with a gold satin bow. I look up at

Johnny and say, “Why did you even buy all this stuff?”

He takes a moment to uncap his water, take another sip, and cap it back up. “I dunno, really. I was

making up this little fake scenario for why we were here.”

“Oh?” I ask. Raising one eyebrow.

“It’s not important,” he says, waving a hand in the air. Then he walks towards me, pushes some of

the packages aside, and takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me. His knees scissored on either

side of mine. “Go on. I’m dying to know what’s in that box.”

I stare down at them for a moment. Wondering if he’s coming on to me. Then look up at him and

say, “You don’t know what’s in these packages?”

“I just waved my hand at the glass case and told the cashier to wrap it all up and send it to the

room. I vaguely recall a silver brush set and some earrings.”

I smile. Then chuckle. Then… laugh. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that.”

“So they tell me,” he says, picking up another package and turning it around in his fingers.

“You really want me to open all these boxes?”

“Someone’s got to. I did clean out the whole case.” Then he tugs on the ribbon wrapped around the

box he’s holding. “Here. I’ll help you.” Then he smiles that disarming smile again. Only this time he’s

not looking at me, he’s looking down at the box in his hands. “It’ll be like Christmas.”

“We didn’t really do Christmas when I was growing up. Sometimes there were parties with a Christmas theme, but it’s not like I got presents on the day, or anything.”

“Yeah,” he says, letting the ribbon fall. It doesn’t get far. Kinda drapes dramatically across his

thighs. “We didn’t either. Well,” He looks up at me and meets my eyes. “We did when I was a kid. But

then,” He shrugs. “I dunno. One year there was just no tree and that was the end of that.”

“Hmm,” I say. Trying to picture him as a boy realizing that there would be no presents this year.