"I know it," she said. "I heard it. I didn't do anything, goddamn me,
but I heard it happen."
"Eat," he said. "Here." He reached for a clean napkin from the next
table and handed it to her. She dried her eyes and wiped her nose and
ate a spoonful of yogurt. "Drink," he said, and handed her the
coffee. She drank.
"They brought those girls home last night. *Little*
girls. Teenyboppers. Disappeared into their bedrooms. The noises they
made."
"Drink," Alan said, and then handed her the napkin again.
"Drunk. They got them drunk and brought them home."
"You should get out of there," Andrew said, surprising himself. "Get
out. Today, even. Go stay with your mom and find a new apartment next
month."
She set her cup down carefully. "No," she said.
"I'm serious. It's a bad situation that you can't improve and the more
you stay there, the worse it's going to get."
"That's not a practical suggestion."
"Staying there, in potential danger, is not practical. You need to get
out. Staying there will only make things worse for you."
She clenched her jaw. "You know, there comes a point where you're not
giving advice anymore. There comes a point where you're just moralizing,
demonstrating your hypothetical superiority when it comes to doing the
right thing. That's not very fucking helpful, you know. I'm holding my
shit together right now, and rather than telling me that it's not
enough, you could try to help me with the stuff I'm capable of.
Pages:
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438