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I took a loaf of 99-grain whole wheat that Dot had bought out of the fridge and put a couple slices in the toaster oven.

—Which toothbrush is yours?

I looked at Soledad standing in the hall.

—The yellow one.

—I'm gonna use it.

—Sure.

I watched her go into the bathroom, and found some grapes and rinsed them off and put them in a bowl and got a couple small plates and a butter knife and took it all to the table. I looked at the table, remembered wiping it down, sponging away Talbot's blood, and changed course and took the breakfast things into the livingroom and set them out on the floor in front of the couch and threw a couple cushions down.

Soledad came out of the bathroom and went into my bedroom and closed the door. The coffeemaker gurgled and I took the pot off and filled two cups. Behind the door Soledad was talking to herself. The toaster oven dinged and I grabbed the two pieces of hot toast by their corners and carried them into the livingroom and set one on each plate. The bedroom door opened as I went back to the kitchen for the cups.

—Got coffee. Milk in yours?

—I called a cab.

I looked at her, face washed, hair pulled back, sunglasses on.

—I need to get going.

I set the cups down.

—Sure.

I looked around the apartment.

—I mean, considering the alternative is Malibu, why stay around here.

She nodded.

—Especially with all the exciting conversations with law enforcement officials I have to look forward to out at the beach.

She pointed at the couch.

—Where's?

—Don't know. Probably having brunch somewhere. Organic berries and egg whites for Dot, organic espresso and tobacco for Chev.

—Interesting couple, they seemed.

—I'd swear it won't last, but I don't know shit about relationships.

She cocked her head.

—A girl'd never know.

We stood there.

She put her hand on the doorknob.

—So.

—Hang on, I'll walk you out.

I went and grabbed something from my room and we walked down to the curb, the voices of the homeless couple drifting down the street as they worked their way from garbage can to garbage can, removing the recyclables.

—Fuckhead.

—Bitch.

—Asswipe.

—Cocksucker.

Soledad nodded.

—It must be love.

—Sounds like it, doesn't it?

A cab rounded the corner and pulled up.

—This is me.

I took the roll of bills from my pocket.

—Do me a favor, give this to Jaime.

She looked at the money.

—Web. You don't really have to.

I held the money out.

—I told him I'd pay him. I promised. I.

—He'll just.

—I don't care. It's his. Maybe it'll help. Maybe it'll keep him out of trouble for a while.

She shrugged.

—It won't.

She took the money.

—But it's a nice thing to do.

She put the money in her handbag.

—OK. So. OK.

She opened the door.

—So look.

She tossed her bag into the cab and looked at the driver.

—Just one more minute, that cool?

He nodded.

She looked at me, pushed her sunglasses firmly against the bridge of her nose.

—Web. Just so we're clear. I'm. I'm a mess.

—Really? Wow, you hide it so well.

—Yes, don't I? But. This isn't, you know, this isn't the normal me. This isn't the way my life normally goes. I'm an even-keel girl, you know. But. My dad. My dad. I'm not on steady ground. And the way I feel now, I just, I mean, look at the decisions I've been making the last few days. It's just. My emotions. I, I don't trust them. I don't trust myself to make the right, to make smart choices now. Especially with someone as spectacularly fucked up as you.

I looked at the ground.

—Thanks. Coming from you, that really means something.

—Thought you'd appreciate the sentiment.

—Oh, I do, I do.

She picked at the rubber seal along the edge of the cab door.

—Anyway. I'm in no shape to get into. Anything. Like. You know. I can't.

—Sure.

—But.

She raised her shoulders and dropped them.

—I'm just too tired to be alone with all the crap I'm going to have to go through. I don't want to do all this, the police, whatever kind of press, the estate. Jesus, the estate, when my mom starts sniffing around for her cut? That's gonna be a shit storm. And I don't want to be alone with all that.