Page 168 of Johnny

“I’m the one who came up with the fountain-of-youth rat, remember?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t do it on someone’s orders.”

“One,” I say, holding up a finger to tick things off. “That’s worse. Because I can’t even excuse

what I’ve done by pretending I was just taking orders. And two”—I hold up another finger—“I’ve

done lots of other very questionable things in the name of orders.”

“So have I. Both taking and not taking orders. I mean… today is a perfect example. No one told me

to come down here and start fucking shit up, let alone start killing people off.”

“So why did you do it?”

“I told you. There’s something big going on here and those people in that lab were the ones doing

it.”

“OK,” I say, holding up a hand. “First of all, thank you.” I smile and bow my head a little. “For

this. The light show, the underwater music, the sex.” I grin at him. “The talking. All of it. I’m… I

mean, I like you. OK? I do. You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re a goddamned dangerous bad boy the

likes of which I’ve never seen before. But all that goes both ways. You’re hot-tempered too. You’re

so smart it’s calculating. And you’re more than bad-boy dangerous, Johnny. You’re… you’re… how

do I put this?”

“Insane?” he asks, tilting his head to look at me.

“No. Insane is too simple of a word. You’re more than that. It’s like… you’re so smart and careful,

how do I trust you?”

He draws in a breath, staring at me. Eyes narrowing just a little. But somehow, some way, the neon

blue of the water below gets caught in the diluted grayness of his eyes and makes them sparkle.

And see… this? This isn’t fair. No man this dangerous should look this beautiful. He’s like a sea

anemone. The beauty is a warning. It captivates you and draws you in just so it can eat you for dinner.

I start to get lost in his eyes but then realize he’s waiting for me to continue. “That speech you gave

me earlier? All that bullshit about how you can’t take it with you. How none of this matters. How

death is the only real choice we get in life.”

“What about it?”

“Was it bullshit?”

“Why do you think that? Did it come off as bullshit? Was I less than sincere?”

“What?”