"He's my supplier." He laughed at the expression on my face. "You're really gullible, Flavia. His parents have a boat. I've seen him down at the marina. He's a nice guy-"
We walked right in without knocking. The music was so loud I could hear it from the driveway. It was karaoke music--there was a girl singing "Like a Virgin" at the top of her lungs and rolling around on the ground, her mike getting twisted up in her jeans. There were ten or so people in the living room, drinking beer and passing around a songbook. "Sing 'Livin' on a Prayer' next," some guy urged the girl on the floor.
A couple of guys I didn't recognize were checking me out--I could feel their eyes on me, and I wondered if I
really had worn too much makeup. It was a new thing to have guys looking at me, much less askin
