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as cold as bone； as loneliness。 Ghost looked up into the flower…seller's face。 Those cold eyes glittered somewhere deep in shadowed sockets。 Ghost looked quickly down at his own torn white sneakers。
But it was too late： all at once he caught a rush of images； not words but feelings。 The first thing he sensed was age and dark wisdom beyond his ability to measure； he knew this was no man。 The second was a terrible； resigned loneliness； a longing for someone he thought might never e。 The flower…seller's mind was like a sentient void； too empty even to be sad； colder than the night。 Without thinking； Ghost said； 〃You'll be warm when your friends get here。〃
The pale face snapped up。 〃What friends？ Have you news of Zillah？〃
Ghost stumbled backward。 〃No…I mean； I only know somebody's ing…I mean； somebody must be ing to pick you up。 Or I guess maybe you live around here…〃 He shut his mouth before his words could get any more tangled。 Ghost seldom had to make excuses for the things he knew。 Not everybody wants his heart looked into； his grandmother had told him when he was very young。 So look if you have to； but learn to keep your mouth shut。 Since her death six years ago； he spoke of such things only to Steve； or to no one at all。 But sometimes things just materialized in his head； and he said them out loud before he could stop himself。 As soon as he felt that emptiness pouring out of the flower…seller； he had known that friends were ing； already on the way。 And as much as he feared to wonder what sort of friends they might be…the resurrected dream…twins； or worse？…he had had to say it。 fort might warm those cold eyes。
But the eagerness glittering in those eyes put a stupid panic into Ghost； panic like a moth beating itself against a window； panic that made him want to hide anything he might know； hide his own head。 This is the bad times ing； he realized。 The start of it； anyway。
〃You don't know them；〃 the flower…seller said flatly。
Now Ghost was no longer afraid。 Now he felt only a terrible empathetic loneliness。 He might have been as hollow as a gourd。 What if nobody in the whole world loved you？ What if you were alone？
〃I'm sorry； I'm sorry；〃 Ghost said wildly。
The flower…seller leaned across his wooden stand。 His eyes met Ghost's； and his tongue darted out over his pale lips。 The long thin hands trembled。 Then that cold gaze darted toward the moon； and the flower…seller drew himself up and knotted his fingers together。 〃Get away from here；〃 he said。
〃What…〃
〃Go。〃 Now there was a light of desperation in the deep…set eyes。 Hungry desperation； it looked like。 〃Go now if you want to live。〃
The last light of day disappeared from the sky。 The flower…seller's face was partially obscured by the growing dark； making it look pointed； feral。 He made a half…despairing； half…starved sound deep in his throat； and seemed about to lunge right over the stand。 But Ghost was already straddling his bike； shoving at the kickstand； reaching up with one hand to steady his hat and pedaling as hard as he could。 After a few minutes he stopped and looked back over his shoulder。 But the flower stand and the lone figure； if there； were hidden in shadow。
The T…bird was still parked in the driveway when Ghost rode up； though the house was unlit。 He leaned the bike against the side of the house； where the paint was flaking away。 By now it was almost too dark to see； though weak moonlight limned the edges of the clouds。 On the porch Ghost almost fell over a crate of beer bottles that Steve had dragged out of the house。 Then he pushed the door open and was inside； throwing the deadbolt lock； turning on lamps。 There must be light。 Light to keep him from thinking about the flower…seller out there in the deepening night。
Steve lay on the couch； blearily rubbing his eyes against the sudden brightness； several empty beer bottles on the floor beside him。 He had been using a pile of dirty sweat…shirts for a pillow； and his face still bore the faint pattern of seams and creases。 Ghost felt something under his foot…Steve's keyring lay by the door as if Steve had hurled it across the room。 He picked it up； rubbed his thumb over the plastic tab that said Budweiser； held it in his hand。 The keys jingled faintly against one another…the house key； the keys to the T…bird and the Whirling Disc record store where Steve worked； other keys obsolete and useless but too venerable to be thrown away or tossed into a drawer。 There was a feeling on the keyring like the object's aura； Steve's emotion as he had last touched it。 Disgust and nausea。 It gave the metal a cold； faintly slimy feel。 〃Did you call in sick？〃 he asked。
Steve nodded。 〃Was just gonna have a beer before I went to work。 Next time I looked down； four of 'em were gone； so I just kept on drinking。 Might as well call in drunk for all the difference it makes。〃
〃What happened？〃
〃I fell asleep and had this dream。。。 about Ann。 I dreamed her face was all bloody and some of her teeth were knocked out。 I reached out to touch her and saw my hand was bloody too。 I'd done it to her。 You know what I really did to her？ Do you know about it； Ghost？〃
Ghost looked at the floor。 〃I guess you raped her。〃
〃I guess I raped her too。 I guess she didn't mind。 I guess she liked it pretty good。〃
〃e on； Steve。 That's a shitty thing to say。 She didn't like it。〃
〃Whose side are you on？〃
〃Yours。〃
〃How do you know she didn't like it？ You read her sick little mind or something？〃
〃No。 I went over to see her the other day。〃
All at once Steve was up off the couch； grabbing handfuls of Ghost's sweatshirt； pushing his face up close to Ghost's。 〃What the fuck you mean you went to see her？ You went over there without telling me？〃
〃I wanted to see how she was。〃
Steve stared into Ghost's placid face。 He knew he wasn't scaring Ghost； not in the slightest； he was only making a fool of himself。 But the alcohol in his brain refused to let him shut up。 〃You stay away from that lying cunt；〃 he snarled； 〃or else you decide whose friend you really are。〃
Ghost's wide blue eyes met Steve's； forgiving but unrelenting。 Ghost would not soothe Steve this time； would not capitulate。 What the fuck did Ghost know？ Ghost hadn't gone through Ann's mind…games； hadn't been betrayed by her。 But here he stood； oh so self…righteous。 It would be easy enough to slap that obstinate look off Ghost's face； shake the visions out of that thin body 。 。 。
What was he thinking？ Hit Ghost ？ What the hell was he turning into？ 〃Jesus；〃 he whispered。 〃Jesus Christ。〃
〃He's not here；〃 said Ghost sullenly。 〃You gonna put me down？〃
〃Shit； no；〃 said Steve。 He pulled Ghost down on the couch with him； hugged him tight。 〃I'm sorry。 I'm so sorry。 Don't hate me。〃
Ghost didn't say anything； but his hands found Steve's face； touched Steve's aching temples and smoothed back his messy dark hair。 Steve let his head droop onto Ghost's shoulder。 Holding any other guy this way would have made him feel like a fag； with Ghost it wasn't an issue； it never seemed to matter。
After a few minutes he tried to speak。 The words came like slow drops of blood from a