John Persons Pool Party _top_ -

He floated on his back, arms spread like a crucifixion in reverse, staring at the sky. The clouds moved slowly, indifferent to the caterers setting up shrimp towers on the patio, indifferent to the new lounge chairs (teak, $800 each) that his wife, Linda, had ordered from a catalog she kept hidden from him under the bathroom sink. He wasn't supposed to know about the catalog. He knew about everything now. That was the problem.

There was Mark, his old college roommate, who now sold medical devices and had the hollow, cheerful eyes of a man who had watched his own soul get repossessed. There was Priya, John’s former business partner, the one who had quietly pulled her investment out six months before the crash, who now wore a one-piece swimsuit the color of a bruise and smiled at John like she knew where all the bodies were buried—because she did. john persons pool party

“I came because Linda called me,” Priya said. “She’s scared, John. She thinks you’re going to do something stupid.” He floated on his back, arms spread like