Black Iris
“Zoeller said.
I had no idea if he was being sarcastic. I never did.
Despite the fact that he was richer than hell, Z didn’t have a ride. His parents gave him a BMW for his sixteenth and he sold it to buy the RV parked permanently in his backyard. He didn’t need to go anywhere. He was magnetic. Everything—and everyone—he wanted came to him.
Like me.
One foggy winter afternoon I picked him up after school in Mom’s car.
He slid in, his crisp aftershave peppering the close air. ...That alcoholish smell, borderline formaldehyde, but a hint of smut in it, dirty sex. I fixed my eyes dead ahead, one hand on the gearshift.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“Hello.”
I exhaled through my nose. Refused to look at him.
He fiddled with the glove box, the radio, the storage compartments.MoreLess
I had no idea if he was being sarcastic. I never did.
Despite the fact that he was richer than hell, Z didn’t have a ride. His parents gave him a BMW for his sixteenth and he sold it to buy the RV parked permanently in his backyard. He didn’t need to go anywhere. He was magnetic. Everything—and everyone—he wanted came to him.
Like me.
One foggy winter afternoon I picked him up after school in Mom’s car.
He slid in, his crisp aftershave peppering the close air. ...That alcoholish smell, borderline formaldehyde, but a hint of smut in it, dirty sex. I fixed my eyes dead ahead, one hand on the gearshift.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“Hello.”
I exhaled through my nose. Refused to look at him.
He fiddled with the glove box, the radio, the storage compartments.MoreLess
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