I found Jules outside, with Mental Jiant. They were both smoking, sitting on the curb in front of Ashley’s house, at the end of this empty cul-de-sac. I sit down next to MJ.
“MJ, I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t, really.”
Jules says: “D’you want one?”
“Sure.”
She holds out a lighter.
I cough. I smell the smoke. It’s an entire pack of pre-mixed spliffs. I don’t smoke pot—usually. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Jules holds her cigarette with her thumb and index finger, lightly, like it’s a toothpick. When she flicks it away she flicks with those same two fingers. Her ass is on the sidewalk, heels in the street. Still that razorblade necklace. Whistle. Ducky. She puts her hand on the curb: long arm, double-jointed elbow. The girl has perfect posture. Perfect.
“We’re talking about the vortex.”
My eyebrows raise. “The vortex?”
“Jules is telling me about it. Tell us about it, Jules.”
“Is he ready?”
MJ looks at me and says: “He’s ready.”
Jules slaps my knee. “I knew you were!” She’s almost falling over. “I knew you were! I could tell just by looking at you. When I first saw you.” She’s come around, she has both her hands on my knees. She’s sitting in the street. “You know what you are?”
I’m looking at her.
She’s looking right into me. “You’re a divine master.”
I peer into this girl. What is the girl? Is she kidding? Is she insane? Is she high?
“You’re a divine master god. That’s what you are. Do you know that about yourself?”
I look at MJ.
MJ says: “Jules: Meet Matthew. Matthew: Jules.”