"Is it worth much?"

"I'm not sure. If it was in Bloomfield Hills it would go for a couple of million, easy."

"He has servants?"

"Maids come in but they don't stay. I mentioned the houseman, Lloyd? He's not as old as Tony but he's up there. Lloyd looks like a cross between Uncle Ben on the rice box and Redd Foxx. He'll say goodnight and Tony'll call to him as he's leaving the room, 'I'm gonna get laid tonight, Lloyd.' And Lloyd goes, 'Be careful you don't hurt yourself, Mr. Paradise.'"

"Do you call him that, Mr. Paradise?"

"When I'm sucking up. Montez and Lloyd've been calling him Mr. Paradise forever. The old guy loves it."

"Can he: you know, perform?"

"Once in a while he seems to get off. His specialty is muff diving." Chloe slipped off her sunglasses as she looked at her friend the catalog model, hope in Chloe's blue eyes. "I've mentioned you to Tony. I mean that you're fun, you're smart, you're interesting-"

"Trustworthy, loyal."

"Good to your dad."

"I'll tell you what," Kelly said. "If you can put off the cheerleading till tomorrow night, and if I don't have to do it topless :"

They drove out 94 toward Detroit Metro, snow swirling in the Jetta's headlights, Kelly keeping it close to sixty, anxious to get her dad on his flight; her dad enjoying the ride, talkative, a fifth of vodka in his carry-on; her dad wearing a nylon jacket, a straw hat and sunglasses, nine o'clock at night, snowing in April, the dude barber from West Palm who drank and chased women, now wanting to know why he wasn't introduced to Chloe, and Kelly saying she wasn't around.

"What's she do?"

"Takes care of an old man."

"That don't pay. How's she afford to live with you, even going halves?"

Kelly was tired of being the nice daughter who lived with her nice friend.