“Zack,” I said. “Who is Sebastiano Pagangpang?”

Then I saw the hand lying beside the body—the long fingers curled up and nails lacquered perfectly in a dark, rich shade of purple.

“Oh my God,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Malate.”

“Does Inchoy know?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you were at your tita’s and could get to him.”

“Shit.” I wasn’t crying. I was shaking. “What do we do?”

“Call Chet.”

“Right. Right. I’ll call him. Are you going to Inchoy’s?”

“I have a Grab booked but it’s another twenty minutes. I won’t be there for at least an hour and a half. I don’t know how you’ll get a car in Makati.”

Bibo. Bibo. Bibo. What have they done to you? I was fumbling with my phone but finally managed to enter Tita Rosa’s number. First I got Beng, and after what seemed like a century but was probably only a few seconds, I got Tita Rosa on the line. “Tita, where’s Mannie?”

“Mannie? He’s taking your tita Dom for her checkup. Why?”

“I need a ride. I’m in Makati.”

“Oh. You’re in Makati. Call Carmi. She’s there dropping Miggie at her French lesson. If you call now, you might catch her.”

“Okay. I’ll do that.”

“Ting, what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just need to get to Inchoy.”

“Why?”

“Long story.”

Although it was a short story.

As we drove the two hours to get to Scout Castor, I wondered if I would survive the air-conditioning purring from the vents of Carmi’s car, dropping the temperature to a Kelvin stillness. I’d been concerned that I wouldn’t be able to manage small talk, but Carmi was fielding a business deal that was spiraling into a complete disaster. She punched angry texts into her phone and then placed a call to yell about a building permit that had been approved weeks earlier, now mysteriously withdrawn by some ignorant peon. Carmi took a deep breath, looking out the window as a cigarette vendor on the sidewalk, and on foot, overtook us. “Sorry, Ting. I should be spending more time with you. I’m going to my costuera tomorrow. Do you want to join? I have a really nice piece of silk that I don’t know what to do with. It’s a good color for you. You could have a dress made.”

“Not tomorrow, but maybe later on.”

“Ting,” she said. “Are you all right? You look kind of sick.”

“I’m just tired,” I said. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” I didn’t want to tell her because I didn’t want to hear myself telling someone about Bibo. I was barely holding it together as it was and knew that Inchoy needed me, that to fall apart would be callous and irresponsible.