Don't question it. If you knew how I think, you wouldn't question it.

I'm not hung up on money. I never have been. I never had much, and I never needed much. No Nike shoes, no whizbang computer, not even a mountain bike. Just give me clean clothes, a library, a park with a nice bench, a bus pass and a knotty problem every now and then, and I would be just fine.

I wanted to create money. Out of one loaf, two. And deep down, I knew what I wanted to do with my loaf.

So, I'll only say I was maneuvering some new hardcore acquaintances into a cocaine deal in another part of the Metro Detroit area and it took all my time, and a lot of the Van Horn money. Hell, I had to rent a car and a seedy motel room and I was only fifteen. Things like that aren't easy. They take time and effort. So much effort that when I finally cleared a block of time in the window of my mind to think about a certain little teacher's huge-nippled titties, it was ten days later.

It was the early part of November, on a Friday night about seven in the evening when I crept onto the Van Horn's property. I surveilled the home for a half an hour. I learned that other people really do live their lives when I'm away. I would have lost a bet on that one.

My Van Horns were talking. To each other. In the same room. I saw them laughing. And watching Wheel of Fortune. That wasn't right. And since I couldn't read lips, I knocked on the front door.

Edwin Van Horn answered, his face still wreathed in merriment that didn't vanish upon seeing me. This was a mystery, Shaggy.

"Ah, Damien. Come in, come in. We were expecting you."

"How's that? I didn't even know I was coming here."

"You weren't here the last nine nights, tonight had to be the night."

"Is that some Zen thinking, Ed?"

He chuckled and led me through the home to the warm family room where my pretty little teacher sat demurely in her rocking chair, sipping her white wine. She smiled comfortably at me, saying nothing. The room smelled of sweet marijuana. I took off my jacket and flopped down onto the sofa, suspicious and antsy all of the sudden. Something was wrong. These two people were getting along and I didn't know why. And I was too damn tired to figure it out. But instead of staying one step ahead, I had fallen one step behind.

"Want a beer?", Ed called from the kitchen.

"Yes, please." Please?

Edwin Van Horn brought me a beer and sat down in a recliner next to his wife. He loaded the Marley pipe, sparked it up, and passed it to me. I inhaled and passed to Cynthia, who took it from me in a beautifully dreamy way........(cont)