“Uh, okay? But, like, what am I supposed to do?” I ask as Alicia snorts her third line.
“I don’t know man,” he says. “Go for a swim?”
They both laugh, and Alicia shrieks when Lance pounces on her. I step aside, heading for the pool cabinet.
Fuck it.
Iwillgo for a swim. After changing into the spare trunks, I hustle out and dive in. When I surface I can hear Alicia’s moans, so I swim deep. The water feels amazing at least — I don’t think I’ve ever had a pool to myself. I’ve never had the freedom to swim laps back and forth, propelling myself along effortlessly. I could probably keep it up for hours-
Which is more than I can say for Lance!
Underwater I smile, letting some air bubbles out through my teeth. Considering how bad he’s wanted her, he’s gonna finish with Alicia way too fast. Still, he’ll be happy — and if she’s enjoying the coke, how mad can she be if he doesn’t make her come?
Shit.
He’s gonna ask for coke again. Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll only do it if Alicia has a friend for me. I’m not gonna be a bystander every time. I’m not gonna cock block a friend, but he’s gotta at least be my wingman. Otherwise, he can find another dealer. I’m not gonna-
“Reed! Reed! Reed!”
I hear it garbled through the water and stop mid-stroke. Breaking through the surface, I see Lance standing at the edge of the pool.
“Dude, come quick!”
“What is it?” I ask, climbing out. Chilled by the cool night air blowing against my wet body and Lance’s pale expression, I start shivering immediately.
“Fucking Alicia snorted the rest of it man. She’s not waking up!”
No no no.
I break into a run, reaching her side. I tap her cheeks rapidly, trying to wake her.
“Call 9-1-1!” I shout.
Lance watches me as he paces. “Dude, I can’t.”
Pressing my fingers to Alicia’s neck, I feel a light thump. “She’s alive, man. Call a fucking ambulance!”
Lance shakes his head, growing whiter by the second. “My dad’ll kill me,” he squeaks.
“Dude, get your phone and call. Now!”
“I can’t! Reed, you don’t know my dad. You do not fuck with him during an election. He’ll kill me,andyou, if he finds out we-”
“Shut up,” I grunt, running for my clothes. I take out my phone and start dialing.
—
“Nolan, Reed!”
“Here,” I say, looking up at the cop calling my name. I’ve been handcuffed, sitting on a bench in the precinct for more than an hour.
“Come with me,” he says, grabbing me by the arm. Overweight, bald and ugly, he walks fast, forcing me to keep up. My heart pounds, sick with adrenaline. It’s barely slowed since the paramedics arrived, followed by the cops.
“How’s she doing?” I ask as he leads me toward a brown door marked I-1.
“Quiet,” he spits, unlocking the interrogation room. He drags me in and sits me down on an uncomfortable metal seat that’s bolted to the floor. I expect the cop to start questioning me, but instead he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
What the fuck is this? What do they have to question me about?