Part 48 (1/2)
He stood still for a few seconds, swaying. The concrete floor tilted dreamily to the right, to the left, like in the Funny House. He walked forward, one step at a time, lifted the latch, pushed open the door. It was that girl. Oskar's friend. Tommy stared at her without understanding what he was seeing.
Sun and surf.
The girl was wearing only a thin dress. Yellow, with white dots that absorbed Tommy's gaze, and he tried to focus on the dots but they started to dance, move around so he became sick to his stomach. She was maybe twenty centimeters shorter than him.
As cute as ... a summer day.
”Is it summer now all of a sudden?” he asked.
The girl put her head to one side.
”What?”
”Well you're wearing a ... what's it called ... a sundress.”
”Yes.”
Tommy nodded, pleased that he had been able to think of the word. What had she said? Money. Yes. Oskar had said that...
”Do you ... want to buy something?”
”Yes.”
”What?”
”Can I come in?”
”Yes, sure.”
”Say that I can come in.”
Tommy made an exaggerated, sweeping gesture with his arm. Saw his own hand moving in slow-motion, a drugged fish swimming through the air.
”Step inside. Welcome to the ... local branch.”
He didn't have the energy to stay on his feet any longer. The floor wanted him. He turned around and flopped back on the couch. The girl walked in, closed the door behind her, put the latch back on. He saw her as an enormous chicken, giggling at his vision. The chicken sat down in an armchair.
”What is it?”
”No, it's just.. . you're so . .. yellow.” I see.
The girl crossed her hands over a little purse in her lap. He hadn't noticed that she had one. No. No not a purse. More like a cosmetic bag. Tommy looked at it. You see a bag. You wonder what's inside.
”What do you have in there?”
”Money.”
”Of course.”
Nope. This is fishy. There's something strange about this.
”What do you want to buy, then?”
The girl unzipped the case and took out a thousand kronor note. One more. Then another. Three thousand. The bills looked ridiculously large in her small hands when she leaned forward and laid them on the floor. Tommy chortled: ”What's all this?”
”Three thousand.”
”Yes. But what for?”
”For you.”
”Give me a break.”
”No, really.”
”That must be some kind of d.a.m.n ... Monopoly money or something. Isn't it?”
”No.”
”It isn't?”
”No.”
”What's it for, anyway?”
”Because I want to buy something from you.”
”You want to buy something for three thou ... no.”
Tommy stretched out one arm as far as he could, snapped up a bill. Felt it, crinkled it with his hand, held it up against the light and saw the watermark. Same king or whatever who was printed on the front. The real deal.
”You're not kidding, are you?”
”No.”
Three thousand. Could.. . go somewhere. Fly somewhere.
Then Staffan and his mom could stand there and .. . Tommy felt his head clear a little. The whole thing was cuckoo but OK: three thousand. That was a fact. Now the only question was . . .
”What do you want to buy? For this you can have .. .”
”Blood.”
”Blood.”
”Yes.”
Tommy snorted, shook his head.