“You’re an asshole, Pete,” the Mutant says. “You touch me again, I’ll tear your dick off.”
Pete laughs and wanders back toward the bedroom.
The Mutant finds her coat and tucks herself into a curl under it on the couch, and closes her eyes. In a moment, Billy nudges her, shivering.
“I’m cold,” he complains.
She lets him snuggle next to her and share her coat like a blanket; it’s nice to have his body warmth, even if he smells a little sour. The noises from the bedroom rise above the countdown of this year’s hits from the radio. She closes her eyes a little tighter but she can still hear too much. At one point, Billy moans and she opens her eyes and his eyes are open too, wide and fearful. He blinks and wipes at them. “Oh, jeez,” he murmurs and he clutches her tight and buries his face between her breasts. Wrecked as Billy is, he only understands he is scared; the why is beyond him. Reluctantly, she lets one hand come to rest over his ear, in a gesture that is as close to comforting him as she can bring herself. She hates guys, she thinks, she really hates them. They are all pricks, nothing but pricks.
The first one out of the bedroom is Todd, who heads for the bathroom. She hears him throwing up. Bither staggers out, and keeps on going, right outdoors. In a little while, Todd emerges from the bathroom and Bither comes in from the cold and the two of them slump into chairs, heads back, eyes closed, looking sick.
Pete appears and starts nipping at everyone’s heels, harrying them to tidy the place up and get a move on so he can haul ass for home. The Mutant looks in at the bedroom door. In the light of a single low-wattage bedside lamp, Grey sits in a wicker chair, smoking a butt. Her knees are tight together in her tight jeans, one hand rests palm up on the opposite thigh, and she is reapplying her lipstick. Her mouth looks bruised. A crumpled paper towel is stained with the makeup she has removed. Pausing, she uses her free hand to grope for a lighted cigarette resting in the ashtray. She has an embarrassed little smile on her face.
“Okay?” the Mutant asks.
Grey’s smile broadens, wavers, and then steadies. She sniffs.
The bed is unmade—stripped of linen for the winter and encased in a zippered plastic envelope and there is no disorder but Lexie is wiping the plastic with a wad of paper toweling. She is meticulous, precise, almost polishing it. Stoned. Lexie stands back to look at the mattress and it passes inspection. Then she peers at herself in the mirror over the dresser. She traces the edges of her mouth—like Grey’s, rather swollen-looking—wiping away a trace of lipstick that has overrun the margins of her lips.
“Christ,” she says, “some party. Beeg fucking jocks. Buncha limpdicks. I thought my jaw was going to lock.” Glancing at the Mutant, Lexie grins, and pulls a wad of bills from her jeans pocket. “J.C.’s gonna shit,” she brags, “look what I took off those assholes. I told’m Grey and me weren’t giving it away. Shit, they got a bargain.” Lexie giggles. “Hey, the idea of paying for it got Pete harder than anything either one of us did.”
Todd comes in and empties the ashtray on the bedstand into a plastic garbage bag; he scoops first some empty beer cans and then gingerly picks up a champagne bottle from the floor. Lexie suddenly grabs his forearm and he flinches but she only wants to drop her wad of paper towels into his trash bag.
Grey starts to stand up and her feet go out from under her. Todd and the Mutant between them catch her as she collapses.
“Baked,” Lexie snickers.
In the back of the Blazer, the Mutant snugs up against Billy Rank and closes her suddenly heavy eyes. Gotten just enough of free-floating smoke to make her sleepy. Practice tomorrow oh ‘god. Lexie and Todd are into the front with Pete. The guys have shoveled Grey into the back too. Bither is on her other side from the Mutant.
“She pukes on me,” he threatens, “I’ll puke too.”
He quiets when he locates a forgotten six-pack and breaks it open.
“Gimme one a those,” Pete demands.
Bither takes one, holds it up to Billy, who moans and wards it off with his palms. Sniggering, Bither passes the rest forward. Pete pops one; Todd puts the remainder on the floor. Before they reach the main road, the Blazer slips suddenly into a slow-motion slew. Pete, swearing, spins the wheel into the skid, overdoes it and all at once the Chevy is off the road, jolting into the low banks of snow that fill the ditches. Once into the snow, Pete proceeds to dig the Blazer in up to its hubcaps. They all pile out again so the guys can have a try at pushing it out.
“Great driving,” the Mutant mutters to Pete and he backhands her so suddenly she is in the snow with her face hurting before she can react.
“You got a big fucking mouth and I’m tired of it!” he shouts at the girl sprawling at his feet.
Reactions dulled by intoxication, the others are slow to even realize what is happening. Pete steps forward threateningly. Todd moves then to try to restrain him. For an instant, she thinks it will work, before Pete throws off the lighter Todd and lunges toward her.
She scrambles away and he tackles her and knocks the wind out of her. He uses his weight deliberately to keep her down. The struggle excites him. He grows angry in frustration as he is hampered by her clothing and rams his zipper-armored hard-on into her crotch to hurt her.
“Fuck
