When they reached Alita Lane, Walker parked around the corner and the two hoofed it back. Walker was careful to avoid parent types when delivering weed. He mentioned, in passing, that the house belonged to Creed’s parents, Deborah and Patrick Unruh, whom Jon knew distantly from the country club. Mona was particularly enamored of Deborah Unruh and took every opportunity to fawn over her. Immediately Jon anticipated the moment when he could casually refer to the time he’d spent at Deborah’s. Soon afterward, however, he decided the connection would never pass his lips. There were things Mona wasn’t meant to know and most began to unfold on that day.

Jon followed Walker around the side of the house to the cabana in back, where the school bus was parked. A boy of ten or so was splashing naked in the pool, probably peeing in the water when it suited him. The school bus was ratty on the outside, but when Jon finally saw the interior he thought it was cool—decked out with mattresses, a camp stove, storage boxes. An Indian-print spread served as a privacy screen, dividing the vehicle into two parts. The couple crashed in the back while the kid sacked out on the futon in front.

The bus doors were open and the boyfriend was fussing around with something inside. The chick was cross-legged in the grass, knotting a length of hemp, using hitches and half-hitches to make a wall hanging, or something equally useless since the bus had no walls to speak of. She looked up as they approached. “Hey, Creed? We have company.”

Creed emerged from the bus and Walker made the introductions. Nobody bothered to shake hands. Even years later, it was odd how vivid the moment seemed. Destiny was in her mid-twenties, six or seven years older than he. He’d never encountered anyone as hang-loose as she was. Her nails were bitten to the quick and her hair was a mass of curls. Her earrings were big silver hoops. She wore a scoop-necked peasant blouse, a long skirt, and Birkenstocks. She was chunky and smelled sooty from all the dope and cigarettes she smoked, but the scent reminded him of his mother. Destiny was a walking warning about the health hazards of poor nutrition and substance abuse. Within minutes, she mentioned she wasn’t married to Creed.

Jon said, “Is that your kid in the pool?”

She laughed. “Mine, but not his. Sky Dancer’s dad could have been any one of half a dozen guys.”

Was she for real? Jon couldn’t believe she’d said that.