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downs. Mostly the downs. She was becoming too intense. She started off as a midnight run. Just another B.C.—booty call—to be made on weekends. A movie. Dinner. Maybe party out her way. Then some serious boot knockin’ that had the neighbors banging on the walls with jealousy. Things clicked and what we had was almost a bona fide relationship.
    Charlotte patted her man’s hand, then got up from the table.
    Toyomi asked, “Where you off to?”
    She held on to her smile. “Bathroom. This is the part I hate about skiing. Standing in that long line, then having to wrestle with all of these doggone clothes while I hold myself up and try not to let my booty touch the filthy toilet seat. Moments like this make me wish I was a man, ‘cause there are plenty of trees out here. I’d whip sling-a-ling out and mark me some territory.”
    The women laughed a naughty girls’ laugh.
    Toyomi stood. “I’ll walk with you.”
    Shar followed Toyomi, saying, “I gotta go too.”
    The women headed toward the John, did their female bonding ritual as they strolled across the wooden walkway.
    As soon as they were out of hearing range, Jake let me know that he needed some male bonding as well. The bad dreams were back. He has these nightmares that make it hard for him to sleep. He’s been having them off and on for about a year now.
    He sipped his cocoa and said, “It was just like the other ones, man. This time I opened my front door and saw a kid, a cute little girl, light-skinned, wavy hair, about sixteen.
    And she just kept following me around, looking like she wanted to bite my motherfucking head off.”
    Jake never curses around Charlotte. Always a gentleman in her presence.
    I asked, “Which head?”
    “Both of ‘em.”
    We chuckled. Not long or strong. Fear seasoned his laugh.
    I asked, “Any idea who the girl in your dream is?”
    “For a while she looked kinda like Brenda.”
    “Who?”
    “This freak I had this thing with when I was at Crenshaw High. Man, I had forgot about her. Think she was fifteen, or fourteen back then. But, hell, that’s almost fifteen years ago. I can’t remember everybody I’ve hooked up with since then.”
    “Sure you’re not dreaming about Brenda?”
    “Hell, naw. I barely remembered Brenda, until that kid that looked kinda like her popped up in my dreams. And she had eight or nine of her friends with her. Some of ‘em looked about her age. One or two might’ve been in middle school. Or elementary. A couple of brothers about her age, about as tall as me, were staring me down, frowning like they were about to shank me. One of the brothers was pushing a baby carriage.”
    “That Brenda, the one who you think that one of the girls looked like, did she do something to you?”
    “Naw. It wasn’t like she was my girlfriend or nothing. We just got busy a few times back in the day. It’s not just her.”
    “What?”
    “Well, all of the kids, all of ‘em look familiar, but I can’t remember who they are, or who they look like when I wake up. But it’s the same people in every dream. I’m pretty sure of that.”
    I said, “But they never do anything to you, right?”
    “The way they look at me, man, it scares the hell out of me. Sometimes their faces change and they start to look like somebody else, or each other. I run; they follow. If I’m in a room, they close in on me, kinda like Michael Jackson and those freak, weirdo, dancing zombies did Ola Raye in
    that ‘Thriller’ video. I run all around the house. Well, it’s not really a house. I think that it’s a hospital.”
    I said, “A hospital? You never told me that.”
    “I just figured that part out. Could be a doctor’s office. I’m sure about that. It’s white and sterile. Too much light sometimes. I can’t tell, ‘cause you know how dreams are all clear in some parts, then fuzzy in others.”
    I yawned, rubbed my eyes, and listened to the fear of a six-foot-one firefighter. I said, “What else you see?”
    “This