“And those kinds of angels.”
I point down.
She leans her hip against the table.
“Which kind are you?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Probably neither. But please don’t tell Dad I said that.”
“Angels have daddy issues, too?”
You have no idea, Antenna Girl. The silver light inside her glows brightly.
I say, “You think I’m crazy. What else can you think? But being crazy doesn’t automatically mean I’m wrong. Stay in tonight and be safe. What have you got to lose? It’s one night. By tomorrow night, it’ll be done one way or another.”
“Are all angels as serious as you?”
“I’m sober and I think I just quit smoking. That’ll depress anyone, even an angel.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re vegan, too.”
“Even God isn’t vegan.”
“That’s a relief.”
She looks at me. The wheels are turning in her head. I can almost hear her thoughts, but not quite.
“Okay, Johnny Angel. Maybe I’ll order in Chinese tonight. How’s that?”
“Or you could pick some up on the way home. Don’t want to put the delivery guy in danger, right?”
“Fine. Go and tell Freddy I said to refill your coffee. The stuff you have is turning to paint varnish.”
“Take care of yourself, Janet.”
“How did you know my name is Janet?”
“You’re still wearing your name tag.”
She looks at her blouse. Unclips the tag.
“For a second I thought you were psychic.”
“No. I just like donuts.”
A helicopter shoots by overhead heading south toward the smoke.
Janet puts on the coat hanging over her arm, gives me a little wave, and leaves.
I KNOCK ON the apartment door at exactly eleven.
Tracy opens it and lets me in without a word. Fiona is by the kitchen counter, standing conspicuously close to the gun she held on Allegra and me that morning. I walk over to her.
“I’m not staying long, so if you’re going to use that, you might want to get started.”
She shakes her head.
“Go to Hell.”