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“Maybe DMT or somethin’.”

“Better not be fentanyl, you drop dead on me.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He’d never do that. He’s not some pusher for China wants to kill American kids. He only cares about money.”

“Who does?”

“Old Bead.”

“Old Bead?”

“Belden Bead. I do a job for him. No one does a better job for him. I’ll get you a taste of this stuff. You’ll see.”

Vida shakes her head. “Not now. If I take some, then when you come down from where you are, I’ll be up. I want us both in the same space, you know, when we take that ride later.”

He nods vigorously and claps his hands with delight. “Hey, I need some candy. Good chocolate. There’s a box in the fridge.”

“You stay there,” she says. “I’ll get it for you.”

When Vida brings the candy to the table, Morgan puts a hand on her butt and slides it between her legs, pressing the crotch of her denim shorts. She endures his touch long enough to take the lid off the box, whereupon his attention is redirected to the chocolates.

She returns to her seat. “When did you start using weed?”

“Seems like always.”

“You don’t remember.”

“Sure. I was thirteen. Old Bead saw hustle in me. Got me workin’ the middle-school crowd.” Morgan pops a candy into his mouth.

“Who is this Bead guy?”

Morgan sorts nervously through the variety of candies, as if deciding which one to eat next is more stress than he can handle. “Bead is gonna move me up soon. The day he moves me up, I drop out of Long Valley High, get out of this house, get myself an apartment, cool wheels. I’ve been savin’ for the day.”

“But who is he?” she presses.

“Who is who?”

“Bead.”

“Old Bead.”

“You keep saying.”

He picks up a candy, reconsiders, puts it back, and selects another. “Bead is Bead. Everyone who knows how things really are, not just how they seem, they know Bead.”

“Yeah, well, I’m new in town.”

He looks up at her. “Hey. I forgot. You’re fresh. You sure are fresh.”

She watches while he eats the piece of candy. Then she says, “So this Bead guy.”

“His daddy, Horace Bead, old Horace and Katherine, they own all kinds of shit. Belden got himself a law degree from Yale so he’d know how to get around the law. He doesn’t practice. Belden Bead, he’s too busy to have time for lawyerin’.”

Morgan startles, knocks the candy box aside, shoves his chair back from the table, and sways to his feet. Attention fixed on the ceiling, he turns in place.

Getting up from her chair, Vida says, “What’s wrong?”

“Birds,” he whispers.