a good one. They are the unsung heroes in every hospital, in every war. Angelo’s great grandmother was a nurse.”
“Was she?” I say. “I didn’t know that.”
He smiles. “Yes, a gnarled old Italian tree of a woman. She used to tell us horror stories from her time as a nurse. I think half of them were made up, but they were amusing.”
“Why don’t you anymore?” Dani asks.
“Ah, business,” he says, frowning. “Always business.”
“But you have Angelo to help you now,” Dani remarks.
To my surprise, Dad looks from Dani and then to me, smiling. “Yes,” he says sincerely. “I do.”
Dani looks at me proudly. The thought rises before I can stop it:
I love her. I fucking love this woman.
I try to beat it down, try to make light of it in my mind. But I can’t. Because what she just did means the world to me. I reach across and take her hand, squeezing it softly, warning myself not to get in too deep. But it might already be too late.
And there’s my father, grinning at us like an old happy fool, more content than I’ve seen him in years.
As if this wasn’t complicated enough already.
24
Dani
Two days after the dinner with Angelo and his parents, Ricky and I are speeding down the highway on our way to another OD. It’s the third of the night, and I’m pissed. I’m pissed at the ODs, like I normally am, but also pissed at how hard I’ve fallen for Angelo despite everything I know about him.
That dinner was almost real. It felt like I was really his wife. But I’ve also sensed this distance in him lately.
Like yesterday, when we were having dinner, he kept trying to steer the conversation toward casual small talk. I tried to bring up something his mother had mentioned about opening a restaurant in Italy. When I pressed him, he changed the subject to his car, something about how it was a hybrid, like I gave an actual rat’s ass when he was steamrolling the conversation like that.
“Dani,” Ricky says out the side of his mouth, eyes focused on the road. “Do you mind?”
“What?”
“The window.”
“Oh.” I realize that I’ve been scratching the window in a nails-on-chalkboard-type situation. I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even realize. “Are we almost there?”
“Yeah, Dani. Shit. I’m working here.”
Ricky cuts down a backroad and, turning off the sirens, pulls up outside an upper-class apartment building. We run to the top floor where there’s a trust-fund-looking girl with blonde hair and a pretty smile. Or at least it would be pretty, if she wasn’t slack-jawed and more grimacing than grinning.
As I administer the naloxone, I spot a plastic drug baggie next to where the girl fell. And on the front:
The logo of a big ape and the words “King Kong.”
The same as the one I found in the cupboard under the bar at Angelo’s apartment.
I stare at it for a moment, and then shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. The girl recovers quickly and then refuses transport, no matter how we advise her that she needs to be checked out at the hospital. Frustrating as it is, you can’t do anything when people make those decisions.
When we climb back into the ambulance, I say, “Did you see that? King Kong? What is that?”
“This new ketamine-type drug that’s been hitting the street recently,” he answers. “Strong stuff, Dani, real strong. Purer than the shit that’s normally on the streets, so people don’t really know how much to take. I bet those other two ODs we went to tonight were Kong, too, only these idiots didn’t think to hide the baggie.”
“Oh,” I say, a pit opening in my belly. “Fuck.”
Ricky looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “What?” he asks. “You seen some of this stuff lying around Wyatt’s dorm or something? Because, seriously, he’s been good as far as I can tell. Hasn’t been partying much at all.”
“No, it’s nothing,” I lie. I’m thinking about that box I found, wondering if I can really be in love with the man contributing to this epidemic. Painful, confused emotions move through me like fire. I just don’t know what to do. “Who’s selling this stuff?”
Ricky snorts. “No idea. Some people say it’s the mafia, but who knows? People say all kinds of crazy shit. The last time I got mine, it was from my pill guy, so really it’s anybody’s guess.”
I swallow. The mafia. It all slots into place: Angelo’s