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“I was fifteen, angel. She was almost thirty years older than me. She was just a friend.” Scowling, aggravated, I look up at him. My mind is sharper than it’s been in nearly a week, and what he’s said makes absolutely no sense to me. “What’s a fifteen-year-old kid doing hanging out with a middle-aged Japanese w***e?” The first thing out of his mouth is a hard “I was never a kid.” Then, as if regretting his tone he adds more gently, “And for a long time, whores were the only friends I had.” I’m astonished. What’s the correct reply to those two gems? He sighs, releases my chin, and runs his hand through his hair again. “Yeah. I know it sounds weird.” “No, not at all! That sounds totally reasonable, A.J.! Doesn’t every teenage boy surround himself with whores? I mean, I can’t imagine the
- Writer
