A rusted Honda Civic drove noisily down the street and parked across from the mayors house. Armpit had finished digging his trench and was attaching PVC pipe. The mayor had gone back inside.
The driver-side door had been bashed in, and it would have cost more to fix than the car was worth. The driver had to work his way over the stick shift and then exit on the passenger side.
The personalized license plate read: X RAY.
“Armpit!” X-Ray shouted as he crossed the street. “Armpit!”
The guys at work didnt know him by that name, but if he didnt say something X-Ray would just keep on shouting. Better to answer and shut him up.
“Hey,” he called back.
“Man, youre really sweating,” X-Ray said as he came near.
“Yeah, well, youd sweat too if you were digging.”
“Ive already dug enough dirt to last one lifetime,” said X-Ray.
They had met each other at Camp Green Lake.
“Look, dont call me Armpit around other people, all right?” Armpit said.
“But thats your name, dawg. You should never be ashamed of who you are.”
X-Ray had the kind of smile that kept you from hating him no matter how annoying he was. He was skinny and wore glasses, which were now covered with clip-on shades.
He picked up Armpits shovel. “Different shape.”
“Yeah, its for digging trenches, not holes.”
X-Ray studied it awhile. “Seems like it would be harder to dig with. No leverage.” He let it drop. “So you must be making a ton of money.”
Armpit shrugged. “Im doing all right.”
“A ton of money,” X-Ray repeated.
Armpit felt uncomfortable talking about money with X-Ray.
“So really, how much you got saved up so far?”
“I dont know. Not that much.”
He knew exactly how much he had. Eight hundred and fifty-seven dollars. He hoped to break a thousand with his next paycheck.
“Got to be at least a thousand,” said X-Ray. “Youve been working for three months.”
“Just part-time.”
Besides working, Armpit was also taking two classes in summer school. He had to make up for all the schooling hed missed while at Green Lake.
“And they take out for taxes and stuff, so really I dont take home all that much.”
“Eight hundred?”
“I dont know, maybe.”
“The reason Im asking,” X-Ray said, “the reason Im asking is I got a business proposition for you. How would you like to double your money in less than two weeks?”
Armpit smiled as he shook his head. “I dont think so.”
“I just need six hundred dollars. Double your money, guaranteed. And I wont be taking out any taxes.”
“Look, things are going all right for me right now, and I just want to keep it all cool.”
“Dont you even want to hear me out?”
“Not really.”
“Its not against the law,” X-Ray assured him. “I checked.”
“Yeah, you didnt think selling little bags of parsley for fifty dollars an ounce was against the law either.”
“Hey, its not my fault what people think theyre buying. How is that my fault? Am I supposed to be a mind reader?”
X-Ray had been sent to Camp Green Lake for selling bags of dried parsley and oregano to customers who thought they were buying marijuana. That was also why his family had to move from Lubbock to Austin shortly after he was released.
“Look, I just dont want to do anything that might screw things up,” Armpit said.
“Thats what you think? That I came here to screw things up? Man, Im offering you an opportunity. An opportunity. If the Wright brothers came to you, you would have told them its impossible to fly.”
“The Wright brothers?” asked Armpit. “What century are you living in?”
“I just dont get it,” said X-Ray. “I dont get it. I offer my best friend an opportunity to double his money, and he wont even listen to my idea.”
“All right, tell me your idea.”
“Forget it. If youre not interested Ill find somebody else.”
“Tell me your idea.” He actually was beginning to get just a little bit curious.
“Whats the point?” asked X-Ray. “If youre not going to even listen . . .”
“All right, Im listening,” said Armpit.
X-Ray smiled. “Just two words.” He paused for effect. “Kaira DeLeon.”
It was eleven-thirty in Austin, but it was an hour later in Atlanta, where Kaira DeLeon, a seventeen-year-old African American girl, was just waking up. Her face pressed against Pillow, which was, in fact, a pillow. There wasnt much oomph left in the stuffing, and the edges were frayed. The picture of the bear with a balloon, which had once been brightly colored, had faded so much it was hardly visible.
Kaira groggily climbed out of bed. She wore boxer shorts and was unbuttoning her pajama top as she made her way to what she thought was the bathroom. She opened the door, then shrieked. A thirty-year-old white guy, sitting on a couch, stared back at her. She clutched the two halves of her pajama top together and slammed the door.
The door bounced back open.
“Doofus!” Kaira shouted at the man, then closed the door again, making sure it latched this time. “Cant a person have some privacy around here!” she screamed, then made her way to the bathroom, which was on the opposite side of her bed.
Over the last three and a half weeks shed been in nineteen different hotel suites, each with no fewer than three rooms, and one with six. So really, it was no wonder she went through the wrong door. She didnt even remember what city she was in.
She suspected that Polly, her psychiatrist, would tell her she had done that on purpose; something about wanting to show her body to her bodyguard. Maybe she was better off not telling Polly about it. Everything she said in her therapy sessions was supposed to be confidential, but Kaira suspected that Polly, like a parrot, repeated everything to El Genius.
She had no privacy-not in her hotel room, not even in her own thoughts.
The problem was that, except for Polly, there wasnt anybody on the tour she could talk to. Certainly not her mother. And not her doofus bodyguard. The guys in her band were all at least forty years old, and treated her like she was a snot-nosed little kid. The backup singers were in their late twenties, but they seemed to resent her being the center of attention.
The only time she felt at peace was when she was singing. Then it was just her and the song and everybody else just disappeared.
Her concert tour would take her to a total of fifty-four cities, so she wasnt even half done yet. She was now on the southern swing. From Atlanta theyd be going to Jacksonville, then Miami, Birmingham, Memphis, Nashville, Little Rock, and Baton Rouge, and on to Texas: Houston, Austin, and Dallas. Originally the tour was supposed to include San Antonio instead of Austin, but that was changed at the last minute due to a monster truck rally at the Alamodome-not that Kaira cared, or even knew about the change.
Other people took care of things like that. Other people took care of everything. Kaira had accidentally left Pillow behind in New Haven, and Aileen, the tours travel coordinator, took a flight back to Connecticut and personally searched the hotel laundry until she found it.
_ _ _
Kaira emerged from the bathroom thirty minutes later wearing a hotel robe. She called room service and ordered a glass of orange juice, pancakes, a cappuccino, and French fries. It would have to last her until the concert. If she tried to eat before the concert shed puke. After a concert she usually had a bowl of ice cream.
She got dressed, then stepped back out to the sitting area. Fred, her doofus bodyguard, was still there, going through her mail.
“As soon as I turn eighteen, youre going to be the second person I fire.”
Fred didnt even look up. It wasnt the first time hed heard it.
The television was on CNN. Kaira changed the station to the Cartoon Network.
The first person shed fire would be El Genius. He was her business manager and agent, and also happened to be married to her mother. They had gotten married shortly before the tour. His real name was Jerome Paisley, but he actually wanted people to call him El Genius. No matter how hard Kaira tried to sound sarcastic when she used that name, he always took it as a compliment.
Her father had been killed in Iraq. His name was John Spears. Kairas real name was Kathy Spears, but there was already a famous singer with that last name.
El Genius had come up with the name Kaira DeLeon.
“You mean like Ponce de León?” Kaira had asked him.
“Who?”
Some genius.
Kaira explained to the genius who Ponce de León was, which was why her first CD was titled The Fountain of Youth El Genius thought it looked classy for DeLeon to be spelled as one word, with a capital letter in the middle.
Kaira had learned all about Ponce de León when she was in fourth grade and living at the Pensacola Naval Air Station. She had to learn the history of Florida. By years end she was living at Fort Myer, where theyd been studying the history of Virginia all year. She had never spent an entire school year in the same place.
“So, anything from Billy Boy?” she asked Fred.
Fred shook his head.
“Aw, too bad,” Kaira said. “He writes such charming letters.”
“Its not funny,” said Fred.
“I think its hilarious,” said Kaira. She sang, “Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy? Oh, where have you been, charming Billy?
”
Billy Boy had sent her four letters so far. He told her he thought she was lovely, she sang like a bird, and someday he would kill her.
El Genius hired Fred after the first letter. Kaira wouldnt have been surprised if El Genius had actually written the letters, to scare her into staying confined to her hotel room. He was such a control freak. She was sure Fred told him everything she did.
“You got another marriage proposal,” Fred said.
“White or black?”
A photograph had been sent with he letter. Fred looked at it. “White,” he said.
“What is it with you guys?” asked Kaira.
It was her seventh proposal, and every one had been from a white man.
Fred carefully put the letter and the photograph in a plastic bag.
“What are you doing that for?”
“FBI.”
“He said he wanted to marry me, not kill me,” Kaira pointed out.
“For some people, its the same thing,” said Fred.
Kaira glanced at him, surprised. The Doofus had actually said something kind of profound.
“Let me see what he looks like?”
Fred handed her the plastic bag.
Kaira laughed when she saw the picture. “He looks like you!” The photograph was that of a very muscular man wearing no shirt. The only difference between him and Fred was that his hair was long and wavy, while Fred had a buzz cut.
“You ought to grow your hair out,” Kaira told him as she handed the plastic bag back to him.
Seven marriage proposals, and shed never had a boyfriend.
From the Hardcover edition.