Chastity went straight to Graham’s bedroom, shutting the door behind them, and she didn’t see her much after that. Every so often, Chastity would appear in the kitchen, wearing an oversized Saints T-shirt and sucking down some orange juice straight from the bottle. Her eyes had grown black and electric, a lazy smile on her face as she’d touch TJ’s arms and neck as if they were in the same dream. Two times she had to tell the girl to quit it.

The first full day they were in the house, she took John Wesley down to St. Charles Avenue, where they caught a streetcar downtown. The French Quarter jam-packed, TJ just then figuring out they’d come right in the middle of Mardi Gras. For the first time in a while, she felt she could walk among people, a shit ton of them, without anyone giving her so much as a glance. She and John Wesley walked down Royal Street and listened to some black kids playing old-time music with horns, trombones, and tubas. Folks tossed out beads from balconies and she bought two hot dogs from a street vendor with a little of the money that Graham had given them. It was all nice, like some kind of noisy dream, with more light and color and music than her brain could hardly handle. St. Charles Avenue was packed when they got back to Graham’s, John Wesley making friends with some kids on the parade route, scrambling up a ladder to catch more beads thrown from the passing floats. The world outside the music and the color felt far away, and she halfway entertained the crazy idea that maybe they could stay awhile. Whatever Graham did in that house was his own damn business; long as they were safe and protected, maybe they’d be okay. A wanted killer—for real a killer now, after the one-eyed trucker—couldn’t be too choosy about her associations.

The back door to the house into the kitchen was cracked open when they got there, most of the lights off with only the sound of a radio playing somewhere. John Wesley went straight for the Xbox and she dropped her backpack while heading into the living room, old floors creaking underfoot, hearing some moaning coming from the bedroom. Chastity and Graham probably at it again, rekindling whatever made their blood boil for each other back in rehab.