Page 36 of Rastor

"Why not Amber? Or Brittney?"

Was she kidding? I studied her face. "Is that a serious question?"

"Well, take Brittney," she said. "You obviously liked her well enough a few weeks ago. And Amber too. Why not them?"

I tried to find the words. "Girls like Brittney are easy."

"That's for sure," Chloe muttered.

"I don't mean that." I shook my head. "With girls like her, I know what I'm getting. And they know what they're getting, too."

"Girls like what?"

"You know the type," I said. "Girls from the wrong side of town who pretend to be something they're not."

Maybe that didn't describe Amber, but it described Brittney just fine, along with countless other girls along the way.

Chloe's hand grew stiff in mine. "What's she pretending to be?"

"I dunno. Some socialite, I guess. Take that sorority thing. Get this. She doesn't even go to college."

"Not now?" Chloe said. "Or not ever?"

"Not ever. And probably never will."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

I gave Chloe the run-down of Brittney's drunken visit from a few weeks earlier, when she'd told me the truth. Her mom wasn't a banker, she wasn't in a sorority, and her life was a pathetic mess.

If Brittney were a nicer person, I might even feel sorry for her.

Chloe was shaking her head. "But she told that same lie tonight. About the sorority, I mean. Why would she do that if you knew the truth?"

I shrugged. "She probably forgot. Like I said, she was pretty trashed."

"But why didn’t you call her on it?"

"Tonight? Because I didn't care. I figured you wouldn’t either. I mean, c'mon, it's pathetic, right?"

And itwaspathetic. I recalled Brittney's cheap-ass apartment in that shitty part of town. Brittney's bedroom, with its lacy bedspread and girly-girl pillows, had been the only clean room in the whole place. As for the rest of it, it was littered with garbage, including Brittney's roommate, who, as far as I could tell, turned tricks for drug-money.

I'd been in that apartment less than fifteen minutes, but it had made an impression.

Chloe's hand slipped from mine, and she started walking again. I fell in beside her and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She kept on walking, looking not so much angry as overwhelmed.

I could see why. It was a lot to digest. But I didn't like the fact that we were moving again. Time was running out. Up ahead, I spotted Chloe's place, maybe five minutes away.

It might be now or never. "Chloe?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"Will you give me another chance?"