We found the entire family, plus, right where Boots thought they would be. Alex stood by the immense curved windows that ran across the front of the room and down the entire southern face of the house. Fran and Simon were sitting on top of a pool table with Lena perched like a bird on a wing chair off in the corner. A number of vaguely recognizable personalities were spread throughout the room listening as Alex extolled the virtues of fatherhood. We entered and slid our way toward Simon and Fran.

“We have had nothing but nachas. Don’t get me wrong. You can’t have kids without worry, but it’s not the worry you remember.”

One of the jeweled blue-haired women couldn’t resist. “Alex my friend, if children are such a pleasure, why did you stop at one?”

But Alex was feeling too good to be disturbed by the catty remark. “I couldn’t tolerate the idea of dividing my affections. Also, Netti, we didn’t start with all this and I wanted Frances to have everything.”

A few people in the room turned toward Fran and smiled. She gave a slight wave acknowledging them as Alex relinquished center stage and the room began to buzz with independent conversations. Fran glanced at Boots and gave her a questioning look. Boots shrugged back. I began to feel uncomfortable, but Simon seemed oblivious to the interchange and said to Fran, “You owe me some money, hon.”

Fran turned toward me. “You’re full of surprises, Matt.”

I threw my hands up, palms out. “How can you say that? I told you I was coming.”

She laughed. “I’ve won a lot more of these bets than I’ve lost.”

Simon interrupted. “You’re going to drive him out of here before I get a chance to visit.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then told Boots, “I’m going to steal him for a few minutes if you can bear it.”

“Only on the condition you bring him back before he sneaks away.”

The three of them laughed. I managed a smile before Simon hopped off the table, grabbed my arm, and led me to the door. I could feel eyes on the back of my neck and I found myself hoping it was Boots. When I turned back to look, however, I was surprised to see Alex looking at the two of us intently. I guess I really was underdressed. Simon and I walked up another flight of stairs and entered a room that could have passed for a public library. “How’d I end up on Alex’s shit list?” I asked.

Simon looked at me with surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I noticed him staring at me and it didn’t exactly look friendly.”

“You’re your usual paranoid self. He’s just interested in whether you’ve discovered anything.”

“He knows I agreed to spy on Fran?”

“Damn it, Matt, stop calling it ‘spying.’ All that does is make me feel guilty.”

I spoke without thinking, “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Simon.”

He looked at me sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean? Have you found anything out?”

“Nah, I told you there’s nothing to find out.”

“You’re holding something back, man. Don’t fuck with me.”

I thought about butchering my tongue while another part of my mind raced for something to say. I flashed on the Lincoln with the scraggly beard and used it for a life raft.

“Okay, I happened to notice a sleazy kid sitting in a Lincoln and the match didn’t seem right. It’s not going to amount to anything, and I didn’t want to encourage your fantasies.” It seemed lame to me; but Simon looked like he’d stumbled into a judgeship.

“All right! See, maybe I’m not crazy. Way to go!”

I shook my head. “No, man, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. It’s just more fodder for your delusions.” I felt badly, but better to feed his imagination than ruin his life. “Why does Alex know about all this?”

Simon rolled his eyes toward the molded tin ceiling. “He knows because I told him. I don’t think you understand how badly Fran is doing.”

“She doesn’t show it.”

“Yeah, she’s impressive that way. But listen, if you doubt me, ask Boots.” He looked at me slyly. “Still something there, huh?”

“Don’t be an asshole. I just ran into her, remember.”

He banged his forehead with his hand. “Right. I’m crazy about this too. If nothing’s there, why get angry?”

“I’m not angry.”

“Right. Anyhow, Alex is taking your search seriously.”

I was relieved to change the topic. “Well, Alex isn’t thinking any better than you. What I noticed is probably a kid with a rich father.”

Simon looked at his watch. “Well, you don’t know that yet. Do you have a way of tracing this kid?”

If I weren’t careful he’d have me hit the street now. “I’ll check, Simon, I’ll check.”

“Okay, Matt man, I knew you would deliver.”

“All I’m going to deliver is a busted inside straight.”

He clapped his hands. “Well, in that case, we better celebrate now. You wait here and I’ll get the girls.”

“Get the ‘girls’? Simon, you’ve lost it. Get the girls! You’re too happy about something that’s going to be nothing. And I don’t want to drink.”

“You just keep working. Also I know better than to try to keep you at a party with booze. Sit tight and prepare your nose.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. “I’ll wait, but you better ask one of the ‘girls’ whether she wants to come. I’m not exactly her best friend.”

Simon didn’t hear anything I said. He was intent on his celebration. While he was gone I walked around the room and tried to admire the appointments. I liked the smell of leather and wood but the atmosphere of white male supremacy was overbearing. It bothered me that Simon had spoken with Alex. It bothered me more that Alex had taken him seriously. Maybe I was missing something.

I was getting around to trying some drawers when Simon and Fran returned. I was glad Boots was with them.

Simon bustled over to the desk and removed a matte black cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket and opened it. From his other pocket he pulled a small glass bottle the size of his thumb, three-quarters full of coke. The three of us stood around the desk and silently watched him dump a quarter of the bottle on the case’s flat interior and spread it into lines. Hispanics just dumped it into their hand and snorted, but Anglos liked their tools. I loved the show. I loved cocaine. But I had always steered clear of leaning on it. My kind of love cost too much.

We took turns with the metal straw. I enjoyed the way Boots snorted. Nothing loud or protracted but she got every bit of her lines. The drug was coming on and I thought of sex with her. I forced my attention back to the desk and took my turn tooting until the case was empty. Everyone agreed that we’d had enough, but I still felt pangs of regret when Simon snapped the black case shut.

We made small talk while the drug did its damage and pushed my discomfort at being in the same room with Fran into a low murmur. After fifteen minutes of talking and laughing, Fran began to look like she was late for a meeting. “Simon, we have to go back downstairs. Dad is probably wondering where we are.”

I looked at Fran. “Who are all those people?”

She shrugged. “Dad can’t help himself. If he’s inviting more than four people over he invites the world. He says he can’t afford to offend anyone.” A bleak look crossed her face. “Mom hates these things. It’s hard on her. She’s not very social.” She looked at me and smiled. “You can relate to that.”

I could and, as the thought of going downstairs took shape, began to. Simon came over and handed me the small bottle.

“You don’t have to come downstairs now; just turn the lights out when you leave. But say goodbye before you split.”

A reward for pretense. I shoved the bottle into my pocket. “You got it, boss.”

Before they were out of the room Boots was sitting behind the desk with her feet up. Her dress was flounced around her legs, and she should have looked ridiculous. Should have, but didn’t. She looked like she belonged so when she told me to have a seat I did. I took a chair and moved it to where I could see her on a slant. I didn’t want to look up her dress.

The coke pumped words out of my mouth. “Why didn’t you go downstairs with them?”

“Your self-pity is tired.”

“No, I mean it. Why the interest? I thought we were doing okay, then I didn’t exist.” Sometimes I surprised myself. Coke balls. I squeezed my hands shut. Sweaty palms.

“You sound angry.” She leaned forward and her dress rode a couple of inches higher. Like hell I didn’t want to look.

“Nah, not angry, but my rule is one slum ride to a customer.”

She swung her legs off the desk and swiveled her chair until she was looking right at me. Her eyes were flashing. “You stupid son of a bitch. You always thought I was slumming.”

Coke or not, I was suddenly less sure of myself. “I don’t get it then. Why the stiffing?”

“I didn’t want to be friends with you.” Her voice had lost a little of her anger.

“You’re not making sense. Okay, we weren’t going to stroll off into the sunset hand in hand. So? We hung out okay together.” For a moment the memory of that period of my life flooded back. “There wasn’t much else in those days that was fun. Why shouldn’t I figure slumming when you cut me cold?”

“You thought I was slumming long before I refused to see you.” The anger in her voice was replaced by tears in her eyes. “I was falling for you.”

I felt like I was on a foundering raft in a schizophrenic ocean. “I was a wreck. You knew that.”

“Logic wasn’t running the show. If I had continued to spend time with you I’d have landed in an all too familiar swamp.” She looked at me directly, her eyes clear as she unconsciously pulled at her dress. “I landed there anyway.”

I sat back from the edge of the chair and lit a cigarette. I needed time to regroup. I felt embarrassed, foolish, guilty, and relieved. All at once.

“And what makes you think I’m interested in you now? I knew he had cocaine, bigshot.” Her voice was easy and light. I was back on land. I pulled the little glass bottle out of my pocket, poured some on the back of my hand, and snorted. Poured some more and offered it to her. She leaned forward and got every granule. I stood, then pulled her onto her feet. “I don’t care whether you’re interested or not. It’s just good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, even if you are a broken-down fool.”

“Does that mean we can go back to being friends?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t believe Simon never told you why I wouldn’t see you.”

“He might have tried. But I wasn’t too willing to talk or listen.”

“And you are now?”

I smiled and pulled her toward the door. “Nah, not really. That’s why it’s time to get out of this dump.”