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all, he had escaped being eaten by a dog, then nearly shot and killed, and now he was playing pool in a cool loft – like a man. He felt strong ... independent ... invincible.
          "Tell someone who cares," he said, his tone cold as an ice axe.
          Willy felt as if an artery had been severed. With one unbelievably cruel remark, Aaron had effectively ended their conversation – and their lifelong friendship.
          "Screw you, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch," he said.
          Aaron was unfazed. "I gotta go," he said.
          Willy kept the phone to his ear, but he couldn't speak. Tears came.
          "See you tomorrow, Willy," Aaron said with a detached air. He ended the call, then walked over and returned Michael's phone to where he found it.
          Michael couldn't help but overhear. "What was that all about?" he asked.
          "Oh, nothing," Aaron replied. "Just dealing with an old friend."
          Willy tossed his phone on the night table and punched his pillow. "Screw you, Aaron Quinn," he said. "You can just bugger the hell off!" He lay back, pulled his blanket up over his head and cried.

Chapter 11
    Eight-ball and House Cats
          Michael went over the rules for the game of eight-ball. Then he selected two cue sticks from a rack and handed one to Aaron. "That should be a good weight for you," he said. "Go ahead and break."
          Aaron's body hurt him as he stretched out over his opening shot (the cardboard boxes hadn't completely broken his fall), but still he managed to drop the 10 ball on the break.
          "Nice shooting," Michael said. "You're a natural." But he could see that Aaron was in his own world.
          Michael recalled a story. "I have to tell you about this old lady I saw, yesterday," he began. "She was pushing a wheelbarrow down the street with a cat riding in it."
          Aaron pocketed the 9 ball.
          "And this was the biggest damn cat I've ever seen! I mean this dude was big! It was raining hard, and the old lady was trying to hold an umbrella over both herself and the cat; but it wasn't working, and the cat was soaked to the skin."
          Aaron followed with the 15 ball.
          "But he didn't care one bit. He just rode along, minding his own business, as though it were his daily routine. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen."
          Aaron banked the 12 into the corner pocket, and then leaned on his cue stick and looked at Michael.
          "I almost got blown away tonight, you know," he said out of the blue.
          Michael was still laughing about the cat. "Uh ... what?" he said.
          "Down at the old cannery near the wharf. Some filthy bank robber bastard tried to kill me."
          "You've got to be kidding," Michael said, taking a seat on a nearby stool.
          "I told you about my fight with my stepdad," Aaron said. "Well, that was true – but he didn't give me this." He pointed to his split cheek, then proceeded to tell Michael the rest of the story.

Chapter 12
    He's a Psycho
          Michael ran a hand through his hair. "My God, Aaron," he said, "I don't know what to say." He had never even made up a story as wild as the one Aaron had just told him. He stood and walked over to get his phone.
          Aaron new immediately what Michael was planning to do. "You're calling the cops, right?" he said. "No way. No cops."
          Michael looked at him. "You do know that this low-life scum will come looking for you."
          "What, do you think I'm an idiot?" Aaron said. "I know, okay?" Tears welled in his eyes and he stood and walked over to the wall of windows. His face reflected in the glass as he looked out at the city lights and calmed himself for a few moments. "You don't know this man. He's some kind of psycho. If I turn him in, God only knows what he'd do to my mom." He paused. "I can't let that happen."
          Michael foolishly hadn't considered that. He