From that day on, he and Walker hung out with Creed and Destiny most afternoons. In her company, Jon was detached, seldom making eye contact. Surreptitiously he studied her, noting her gestures, absorbing her raucous laugh and her air of confidence. She didn’t shave her legs or armpits, and she exuded an animal smell that stirred him in some curious way. She’d taken to ignoring him, but he knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. She was the antithesis of the Playboy centerfolds and he wove her into his daydreams.

On the occasions when Walker had other deliveries to make, Jon rode over on his scooter so he’d have his own transportation. Later he couldn’t remember how the discussion about the money came up. Walker arrived fifteen or twenty minutes after he did that day. The three of them—Jon, Creed, and Destiny—were sitting around smoking dope, as usual, while Creed bitched and whined about his parents. Walker stretched out on the mattress, toking on the joint when it came around to him.

Jon sent Walker a look and then turned to Creed, saying, “Start over and tell him. Walker’s big on finance.”

Creed said, “Like I was telling Jon before you got here, my grandfather left me money in his will and my parents are refusing to let me have it. They claim I can’t collect until I’m thirty. How fucked up is that?”

Destiny said, “His dad is such a butt. Creed’s entitled to the money so what gives him a say in the matter one way or the other?”

“How much are we talking about?” Walker asked.

Jon said, “Forty grand.”

Walker said, “Groovy. So what’s the deal? Was it left in trust?”

“Technically, but that’s bullshit. Dad could fork it over. He’s got money up the wazoo.”

“What do you need forty grand for, you planning a cruise?” Jon asked, his tone mild.

Creed and Destiny exchanged a look, and Creed said, “We’re buying a farm. We put a thousand dollars down and we need the rest by the end of the month.”

Jon laughed. “A farm? You’re shittin’ me.”

Creed scowled. “What’s wrong with that? We’re planning to work the land. Raise chickens and goats and sheep and like that.”

Destiny said, “I’ll learn to make soap and I can sell my macramé. We’ll be completely self-sufficient. It’ll be way cool.”

“You’re not buying a farm,” Jon said. “What the hell are you talking about? How do you propose to ‘work the land’ when you don’t know jackshit about anything?” He’d developed a very low opinion of Creed and loved egging him on. Sometimes Destiny sided with her boyfriend and sometimes she turned on him, mocking him as Jon did. Today she was standing by her man.