Page 32 of Johnny

“Not gonna talk, huh? I will say this,” he says. “You either don’t know your last name or…”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Or what?”

“Or you’re just a very good liar.” He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. Squints

his eyes at me. “OK. Let’s skip the name since you’re obviously dwelling on other things. Can you at

least tell me why you were there in the cell? And what happened before they abandoned you? Some

kind of clue that might help me?”

“What do I get?”

“What do you want?”

I think about this for a moment. What do I want?

“I’ll take that as you have no idea what you want.”

“I know what I want,” I say, irritated that he thinks he can read my mind.

“Tell me.”

“I want to go home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Osprey Cay.”

“You live on Osprey Cay?’ He blinks at me in surprise. “Are you a veil?”

“What? What do you mean?”

He waves his hand in front of his face. “The veil. Do you wear a veil?”

“All the Way women wear veils.”

“No,” Johnny says. “Well, yeah. Sometimes. During the parties and ceremonies. But… you take it

off, right? Like… for your normal life?”

Normal life. I spend way too many seconds trying to figure out what that means. Because I wear

that veil all the fucking time. Even to work. Even to bed. And now I’m suddenly nervous because he’s

seen me. Aside from my father Johnny Boston is the first person to ever see the real me.

“OK,” Johnny says, when I don’t respond. “So you’re a veil?”

“I don’t know what that means,” I say with way too much hostility. “I’m not a whore.”

Johnny nods his head. “But you dressed like one?”

“I had a job, OK? And it didn’t involve sex.”

“You sure about that?” he whispers.

“What the fuck? Of course I’m sure. I’d remember if I was being used as a sex toy.”