I was hyperventilating, light-headed. Deliberately, I slowed my breath, put my head between my knees until the dizziness passed.
“Take me to Lil,” I said.
Driving together, hammering cigarette after cigarette into my face, I remembered the night Dan had come to Disney World, when I’d driven him to my—Lil’s—house, and how happy I’d been then, how secure.
I looked at Dan and he patted my hand. “Strange times,” he said.
It was enough. We found Lil in an underground break-room, lightly dozing on a ratty sofa. Her head rested on Tom’s lap, her feet on Rita’s. All three snored softly. They’d had a long night.
Dan shook Lil awake. She stretched out and opened her eyes, looked sleepily at me. The blood drained from her face.
“Hello, Julius,” she said, coldly.
Now Tom and Rita were awake, too. Lil sat up.
“Were you going to tell me?” I asked, quietly. “Or were you just going to kick me out and let me find out on my own?”
“You were my next stop,” Lil said.