Free Pass It On by J. Minter Page A

shook her head and finished her wine. The front doorbell rang. “Someone go get it,” she murmured, half to herself. Arno stared at his mom. She was unbelievably pale in a black sheath dress that accented her thin wrists. Her black hair swayed around her head like a mini motorcycle helmet. If he hadn’t seen her naked by the pool with his very own eyes just a few weeks ago, when he’d been obsessed with Jonathan’s cousin Kelli, he’d never have believed she was capable of that sort of thing.
    Jonathan passed by the huge living room. Arno saw him stumble. He must not have realized there was a big dinner party happening, and he just kept going.
    â€œHey,” Arno said. Jonathan peeked into the room and motioned that he couldn’t deal with the scene just then, but that he’d be back in a second.
    â€œAlec, would you recommend we buy another Pardo sculpture for our land in Connecticut, something for our north lawn?” Frederick Flood asked.
    Arno watched his father stiffen. And he was pretty stiff already in his blue corduroy suit, a silky pink shirt, and black velvet loafers with fox heads embroidered on them. His mom, who had been looking pretty relaxed, begin to fidget with her big sparkly diamond wedding band. In a faraway room, a phone rang.
    â€œI think Ricardo Pardo’s work may be…no longerso fashionable,” Alec Wildenburger said, looking at his wife and frowning. “In fact, I’d sell my Pardos, if I were you.”
    â€œThat’s disgusting of you to say,” Allie snapped at him.
    â€œCome now, Allie,” Frederick Flood said. He stood up and put a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off. “If Alec Wildenburger says Ricardo Pardo is done, believe me, he is done.” He laughed.
    â€œDon’t be so sure about that,” Allie muttered, and left the room.
    Arno finished his glass of wine just as Jonathan walked back into the room. His face was roughed up from having been quickly washed and he seemed, not high exactly, but glistening. Arno smiled. It looked like Jonathan was in love.
    â€œWhat’s up, man?” Arno said. The group glanced over at the two teenagers.
    â€œEveryone,” Alec Wildenburger announced, “you know my son’s friend Jonathan.”
    Jonathan blanched slightly when Alec spoke, and gave only an awkward wave.
Weird, weird
, Arno thought. Of course everyone is flipped out by everybody else’s parents, but Jonathan, up to then, had always gotten along really well with the Wildenburgers. He had a gift for pretending that he was a little adultand Allie and Alec Wildenburger were the kind of parents who enjoyed that. But now … wasn’t Alec going to see Jonathan’s father in London in like a week? Hadn’t someone mentioned that to him? And didn’t it have something to do with that PISS woman that was taking him and Jonathan on the sailing trip? Arno had never been a stickler for details, but at the moment he wished he’d been paying more attention over the last few days.
    â€œ
Hullo,
” Jonathan whispered. Frederick Flood nodded once curtly and looked away. The other nondescript couple were quiet. Then one said:
    â€œJonathan…haven’t we heard something about your father?”
    â€œ
Something not so savory
,” whispered the other.
    â€œThat’s the one,” Fiona Flood said, and there was an edge to her voice. She sounded extremely pointed and gossipy.
    The bankers looked away. Arno watched. Even his own dad seemed to glare slightly at Jonathan before helping himself to more Camembert and crackers. The huge living room was quiet except for the weird harp music that was playing in the background. A log crackled in the fireplace and a spark flew out, past the grate, and onto the Aubusson rug. Jonathan jumped over and stamped it out. Arno watched in utter confusion as noone thanked him.
    â€œWhat are you two doing for dinner?” Allie asked.