“Hi.”

“Hot, isn’t it?”

“Welcome to Florida in August.”

He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his mostly bald head. “Ha ha. Yeah.”

I take a loud long sip from my nearly-empty Frappuccino. “Yeah.”

He smiles and says, “So.”

“So.”

“Um . . . ”

“Well, this is fun.”

“Abigail, I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Dad, it’s okay. Believe it or not . . . I get it. I think I actually get it.”

“Your friend is nice.”

“I noticed you like her.”

“Yes, she’s . . . unique. So, Abigail, let’s just try to keep this quiet, huh?”

I smile a little. “So, Dad, you want to keep quiet about my staying here and I keep quiet about the fact you were deep-throating my friend’s cock. Is this a negotiation?”

He looks around nervously and crouches into his hands. “Please don’t talk so loud!”

“That wasn’t loud.”

“Abigail, the thing is . . . I’m a failed husband.”

“Dad, no you’re not. Look at what you married.”

“Do you know, Abigail, how beautiful your mother was when I first saw her?”

“I’ve seen the pictures a few thousand times, Dad.”

“I was blinded. I couldn’t see anything else. It was like the entire world organized itself around her. Everything disappeared when she was around.”

I think about Lukas Thorn. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

“I’ve been living a lie for many years now. With Trevor’s help.”

“He’s good that way.”

“Very good.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“You keep quiet about me, let me go back to my life in Concord with your mother like nothing happened. She never knows . . . I mean she never knows . . . and I’ll support you here. How much do you need?”

“I don’t want money, Dad.”

“Seriously, how much do you need?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Abigail, you didn’t fall under the spell of Karissa, did you?”

A stab of irritation hits me. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, she’s a lowlife hooker.”

The stab of irritation flares up into a ringlet of anger. “How can you talk about her like that?”

“Abigail,” he says as he puts his hand on mine. “She’s a prostitute. She’s not worth having as a friend. I hope that’s not how you’re making your money down here. Let me open up a special account for you.”

“Dad, how can you talk about her like that? The last time I saw you, you seemed to like her quite a bit.”

“That was just sex, dear. I paid her for that.”

The anger rises up and out. “Don’t talk about her like that! And I don’t need your money! And no, I’m not a prostitute!”

“Abigail, please keep your voice down.”

“You know Dad? I’ve always been on your side. But right now, you sound a little like Mom.”

“All right, let’s move past this. Where are you staying?”

“The Redmond Apts,” I say.

His eyebrows raise. “Apts?”

“Apartments. I say Apts because that’s what the sign says.”

“Oh. Is that one of Trevor’s family’s places?”

My heart skips a beat. “Trevor’s family?”

“Yes, I thought you knew. He’s from here. His family owns a lot of real estate properties, but I probably shouldn’t divulge that. He doesn’t like anyone to know. I just thought that since the two of you have always been so close . . . well, never mind. As long as you’re safe here and don’t say anything about that hooker.”

“Stop calling her that! Dad, she is a good person! She was only doing what she knows.” I stand up and grab my Frappuccino. “And right now I’d just like you to get on a plane back to Boston!”

“Okay, fine. One more thing. I just want you to know . . . I’m not gay!”

“Why would I even think that?”

“Uh . . . ub . . . well, what you saw!”

“Karissa is a girl, Dad!”

He laughs. “No, dear, that’s not a girl.”

“I’m done talking to you, Dad!”

I get up and storm away.

Chapter 9

“He is an ass!” I say to Trevor, who I find sitting on a low, multi-colored wall watching a group of five girls my age in short-shorts walking by while eating an ice-cream cone.

“Yeah, but he’s an easy ass, not like your mother. I’ll take him over her any day.”

“True. Hey, how do you eat McDonald’s and ice cream and never gain an ounce of fat, by the way?”

“I work out a lot.”

“I’ve never seen you work out.”

“I do it in private.”

“Uh huh. So, did you get your task done?”

“Yes. It was surprisingly easier than I thought.”

“Well, good.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I may have found a new place. I’m meeting the . . . um . . . real estate person at two.”

“Where?”

“Not too far. Over on West Ave.”

“No shit, really?”

“Yeah, really. Trevor, about last night–”

“Don’t, Smudge. Just don’t. It’s all my fault. I apologize. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I promised myself for years I would never dump it all on you, and I did. I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t dump anything on me! I needed to know. And nothing is ruined.”

He finishes his ice cream and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Your dad and I are flying back to Boston in two hours.”

“Hurry before he melts.”

Trevor laughs, puts me into a wrestling hold, and scratches my head again. I play-scream while he laughs.

He stands up. “So, I’ll see you around.”

I stand up, and turn him so he’s facing me. “Trevor, I’m glad you told me what you did. It’s who you are. And I do love you. You must know that.”

“I do, and that makes it all worth while.” He clasps my hands in his and kisses me. “Whatever you do in life, do it for you. Don’t come back unless you’re sure. One thing I’ll say, there’s a spark behind your eyes that I haven’t seen since you were little. Something down here has set you on fire, made you alive. Whatever it is, grab hold of it with full force. Live your life! If you don’t, you’ll regret it.”

“Maybe not now. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of my life, right?”

He laughs out loud. “God, you kill me.” He pretends to straighten an imaginary hat, then removes an imaginary cigarette from his lips. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”

I laugh. “Now that’s a Humphrey Bogart impression!” He hugs me. “You know, Trevor, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Shut the fuck up, Smudge.”

Chapter 10

On the way to Lorena’s, I call Karissa. I hadn’t been ready to talk to her, but now I am. Strange she hasn’t even texted me since that crazy afternoon.

As I walk down West Avenue, I take a deep breath as her phone rings.

“We're sorry,” says an electronic voice. “You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”

Huh, that’s weird.

I tap her name again and listen to the electronic voice again.

Hmph.

I pause in the shadow of a very old tree on a corner and go to Facebook. There are new friend requests from Troy and Sherry, but nothing from Karissa.

In fact, she’s gone from Facebook. No Karissa. Doesn’t exist.

What the fuck?

Did she de-friend me?

Seriously?

Why would Karissa de-friend me? I wasn’t the one sucking her dad’s cock!

I resume walking, a little sad. She’s probably embarrassed. Really embarrassed.

But embarrassed enough to throw our entire friendship away?

I think I’m hurt, I think I really am.

Shit.

I stop outside of Lorena’s building and look up. Do I really want to live here?

I head up to 2201.

Vargas, the bald man with the goatee, opens the door and lets me in. “Follow me, please.”

The giant space looks completely different in the daylight with all the Sunset Chill Party implements gone. No play pens. No blacklight wall. Just a huge living area with a spectacular view, now with glass back in place. Where did the glass go before? Does it slide into the ceiling or is it removable?