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'Yeah,' Doug said. 'We should be ashamed of ourselves, joking about such a tragedy.' |
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'But anyway,' Cyndi said, 'I happen to know that Lisa's babysitting tonight. So she couldn't come over even if she wanted to.' |
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She wouldn't want to, Lou thought. Christ, Lisa had to know it was Buddy and us, or at least figure it might've been. |
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'You oughta just forget about her anyway,' Sheila advised. 'I mean, I know how you felt about her and all, but shit, she dumped you . . .' |
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'For a nigger,' Doug added. |
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'Yeah, well I'm not done with her yet.' |
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Uh-oh, Lou thought. Nobody spoke. The silence seemed heavy. |
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Buddy set his empty glass on the table. 'I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving.' |
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'Now you're talking,' Doug said. |
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'What've you got?' Sheila asked. |
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'You think I'm gonna cook for you slugs?' |
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'A couple of us could run over to McDonald's,' Lou said, 'and pick up some stuff. Me and Sheila could go.' |
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'I feel too comfy to move.' She leaned back against the padded front of Lou's chair, lifted an arm and rested it across his things. Bending her elbow, she curled her hand over his knee. He felt the side of her breast pressing against his leg. |
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'Yeah, shit,' Cyndi said. 'Why don't we call out for something?' |
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