He does allow the Mutant to turn on the tuner in the stereo rack and find a year’s-end countdown. He pops the corks on the champagne and they pass it around, drinking directly from the bottles. The air is sweetened with its cidery scent. At the coffee table, he rolls the weed he bought from Lexie into joints. When he lights one up, the Mutant slips away into the kitchen. The smell of it is too enticing. All she needs is a contact high to make sharing it seem harmless. A restless rummage through the cupboards turns up a glass jar of popcorn and a little oil. Air popper in another cupboard. So she makes popcorn.
Todd wanders in. Leans against a counter and sips a beer. He offers it to her and when she shakes her head, smiles and raises it to her.
“Saint Sam’d be proud of you,” he mocks.
The Mutant shrugs. “Nothing to do with him. Just staying healthy, that’s all.”
He smiles knowingly. “Whatever. I don’t mean anything about Sam. So he’s got a few hangups. So don’t we all. I’ve known him to tip a brew now and again but since his sister sort of went over the edge, he’s a little tight-assed about it. His mom’s a religious nut too. He probably caught a little of that. Who gives a shit as long as he can sink a three-pointer when we need it?”
Lexie shrieks happily from the living room—somebody’s squeezed her tit or goosed her or something. Todd shifts nervously from foot to foot. Runs a meditative fingertip around the channel in the lid of his Bud can.
“Tell you the truth, I still like Deb. She got kind of possessive and I wasn’t ready for that shit, you know? But we still like each other all the same and I’d feel seriously weird having anything to do with her little sister. I mean, I remember when Lexie had a mouthful of braces and no tits.”
The popcorn begins to fire from the throat of the air popper. She nudges the bowl closer to it and picks up a stray blossom of popcorn from the counter.
Todd’s hands fall lightly on her hips from behind and one hand slides down over her chains to her crotch.
“Mmmm,” he murmurs, hot yeasty breath in her ear, “not much to you but it’s all put together right. When you gave up getting high, ‘d you give up going down?”
She pistons her elbow rudely back into his solar plexus and he gasps and backs off.
“You get a cramp in your brain thinking that up?” she mocks him.
He rubs his diaphragm thoughtfully and then grins. With a laugh, he reaches past her to scoop up a handful of the fresh popcorn.
She tips out a smaller bowl for herself and hands him the rest to deliver to the living room. Nibbling the slightly tough puffs—kernels stale from sitting in that glass jar for months—the Mutant pokes around some more and finds a can of coffee grounds in the freezer. Reads the directions on the can carefully and starts a pot in the Mr. Coffee machine on the counter. Never made anything but instant before at home. Pete’s dad is a lawyer of course and they’re all rich, which is why the Fosses have a houseful of appliances keeping cold for the summer. The heady smell of the coffee mingles with the drift of marijuana from the living room.
Pete sticks his head in the kitchen. “Coffee? When did you go all domestic?”
With another charge of popcorn spitting from the machine, she ignores him.
He waggles a roach at her invitingly. “Good shit.”
The Mutant waves it away.
“What is it?” he asks. “You in a bad mood or you got your period or what?”
“Fuck off,” she answers.
He shrugs and goes away.
When she brings the second batch of popcorn to the living room, Billy is muttering to himself and moodily shaking open beer cans, looking for a forgotten mouthful. The others have disappeared into the nearest bedroom and taken the dope with them. There’s nothing left on the coffee table but a roach and some crumbs. Billy picks up the roach and offers it to her. When she shakes her head, he looks at it and then sticks it in his mouth and swallows it.
“I’m fucked up,” he explains seriously.
She pats him on the shoulder and flops onto the couch. He slides down onto the floor next to her and rests his head against the outside of her knee. The tang of the weed standing in the air smells good; she breathes deep. Billy laughs and reaches for the popcorn bowl.
Pete comes out of the bedroom. Climbs onto the back of the couch and opens his legs to pull her back between them. She leans back, slips her hands under his knees and tips him backward. He goes down cursing and flailing, comes up laughing.
“Cold, cold.” He shivers, hugging himself. “You didn’t used to be so cold. Is it true you’ve got a ring in your cunt now?”
Face flaming suddenly red, Billy Rank makes a strangling noise.
Sardonically, the Mutant flips Pete a double eagle.
He shrugs. “Ah hell, you’re a lousy lay anyway. Good thing I unloaded my gun already. Guess you’ll have to see what Rank’s up to.” His derisive tone suggests Billy isn’t up to much.
Billy hides his face in his hands. “I couldn’t help it. I’m too baked, Pete.”
Pete leans
