Page 56 of The False Flat

“Wouldn’t be laughing if I were you,” Chuck warned. “Deanna’s gonna rip you apart.”

King stopped laughing.

I texted Deanna a video of William to make sure she still wanted him at home. She did.

Grant’s hand brushed mine when he reached for the cell phone in his pocket after a text notification came in, and a little electrical impulse skittered across my insides.

As William insisted the rainbow trees outside were wearing top hats and performing a musical number, I leaned toward Grant, inhaled. “Deanna?”

“Elaine.”

I looked out the window, wishing the trees really were wearing top hats and that one of them would reach into the car and sweep Grant’s phone right out of his hand. And then I looked at my phone, checking my email as a distraction.

My stomach dropped as I opened the one titled WeWork Following Up—New renter for your office space. Someone else wanted to rent my office for the next three months, and I’d been asked to vacate as soon as my contract was over.

My head whapped into the side of the window as King curved into Deanna’s driveway.

Grant leaned over and whispered, “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”

It took me a second to pull myself out of the email and realize he was talking about William and Deanna.

Deanna waited on the sidewalk, arms crossed.

“See? Pissed,” Chuck said as he maneuvered William out of the vehicle.

King took one look at Deanna, threw our bags onto the driveway, and peeled out.

As soon as William’s feet hit the aggregate driveway, he ran toward Deanna, then past her, and disappeared through the neighbors’ back gate.

Deanna threw her arms up. “Where’s he going?”

“The better question is probably how’d he get his clothes off so fast.” Chuck nodded toward the elegant swimming pool in the neighbors’ backyard.

Grant took off.

“Freeeeee!” William yelled as he belly flopped right into the sparkling water, completely naked.

“No, William! They just came back from a funeral!” Deanna screamed as she, Chuck, and I filed through the gate and ran right into an older woman holding a tomato; her mouth was still open as she gawked at the very naked man leaping up and down in her swimming pool screaming that she should join him and be free.

Grant was bent low over the pool, gesturing for William to get out.

A teenage boy in an ill-fitting black suit materialized from inside the house, pulled out his phone, and pointed it at William and Grant.

I sighed. This was probably going to be the next viral TikTok.

Deanna picked up her husband’s pants lying in a heap by her neighbors’ tomato plants and held them to her chest. “Mrs. Collin, I’m so sorry for your loss and for William interrupting the wake,” she explained. “William has always adored your pool, and he had drugs.” She shook her head. “He’s . . . he’s not a drug addict. It was an accident. He ate marshmallows. He likes to snack, you know, loves your buns.”

When Mrs. Collin pulled back in horror, Deanna screamed, “Cinnamon buns! He likes the ones you make. I don’t know why I said that. Please don’t call the police.”

I put my arm around Deanna and spoke for her. “It’s a long story, Mrs. Collin, and we are so, so sorry. We’ll get William and get out of your hair as soon as we can.”

This was going to require a gift-basket apology and years of space.

“Take those fabric shackles off, people, and get in here!” William, from the pool. He was dodging Grant and Chuck.

“It sounds great, buddy, it does,” Grant cooed, “but you’re in your neighbors’ pool, and you don’t have clothes on. We need to get ya home.”

“You’re not making sense.” He backstroked away, and every part of him, every, glinted in the sun.