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“No, you come here, get movies, and go right back home. Go out. See people. Go to Bamboo House of Dolls. Carlos misses you.”

I pretend to consider it.

“Maybe. I’m way up the freeway these days. Bamboo House isn’t walking distance anymore.”

“Don’t be a jerk. You stroll through a shadow and you’re right there.”

“Is that how it works?”

Candy sighs, not sad this time. Maybe exasperated. I do that to people.

“Okay,” she says. “Here’s another idea. Don’t leave your house.”

“I was already doing that and I’m really good at it. I could give lessons.”

“Have a party.”

“What kind of party?”

“You talked about having a movie night. Do that. Invite everyone.”

“I don’t know. It sounds scary and there are a lot of walls I haven’t punched holes in yet.”

“Listen, you goof. You go to the store. You get some drinks and some snacks. You put them on a table and people come over.”

“It sounds easy when you say it.”

“It is easy. You still have money, right?”

“Sure. Fifty grand I stole from Eva Sandoval.”

“Then you can afford a cold-cut platter.”

“What if no one comes?”

“Of course people will come. In fact, I’ll ask them for you.”

Maybe it’s good I’m taking these damn pills. I get a weird cold feeling in my gut. Like fear. Like panic. Yeah, I get scared, but panic? No.

Fuck this.

“I don’t know. I mean, I just had the shag carpet cleaned. You should see it. It’s like walking on an orange musk ox.”

“That sounds like an invitation to me. You’re having a party tomorrow night.”

The panic feeling gets more intense.

“Tomorrow? That’s really soon. I still have to get my hair done.”

“Tomorrow at eight,” says Candy brightly. “Drinks and snacks. Can you handle that or do I have to send you pictures to remind you what food is?”

“I remember food. It’s the stuff you chew.”

“That’s right. The stuff you chew.”

“Never cared for it.”

“Tomorrow at eight.”