"Aw, shut up," Nightmare said.
"He got both your numbers," Copperhead said, "Jesus Christ—" He began to dig his hand under the girl on the couch, pulled out his vest.
Kid was about to look at Denny; but Denny's girl stepped into the far doorway.
She looked very surprised.
Kid walked across the room. He saw Copperhead shrugging into his vest, watched him. So did Dragon Lady and Nightmare, each with differing smiles.
"You want some coffee?" Kid asked.
The girl took the cup he thrust and looked even more surprised. He pushed past, through the door.
The sink and counter were heaped with dishes. The table was piled with garbage. A garbage bag underneath had broken.
Outside the screen door, the sky heaved and twisted like a thing chained.
Kid stopped on the littered linoleum and raised his hands to his face—
He'd forgotten the blades.
He pressed the heel of his other hand against one eye. Clean metal and dirty flesh — he brought his armed hand closer, till metal tickled his cheek.
Beyond metal and skin and screening, and wooden roofs across the street, the sky ran and blistered and dribbled on itself.
I will play, he thought, this game another hour. One more hour. Then I will go do something else. I'm tired. That's not complicated. I'm just tired.
He ground one eye, till light spots superimposed blades, hand and sky.
They were laughing in the other room.
What do I want here?
The boy? he thought to see it fall. I still like him, don't I? He bores me already (thinking: All that guarantees is that he still likes me).
Lanya, Kid thought angrily, has gone away. Why. Because I'm impossible. And realized, astonished, what he wanted was her.
Double laughter separated into a boy's and a girl's. When they stepped around him, hand in hand, she looked quickly away. Denny didn't.
Kid felt his expression change, not sure to what. But it made Denny stop.
"Get out of here," Denny said to the girl.
She looked between them, puzzled and — eager? Then she fled back into the living room.
After a second, Kid said, "Your girl friend doesn't like me very much."
Denny's shoulders made some small, sharp motions. "You been pretty nice to her."
"Like hell." Maybe, Kid thought, I should tell him to go away, like he told her. "Come here."
Denny walked over.
Kid reached in his pocket for Tak's battery. "Put this in for me?"
Denny's face made motions small and strange as his shruggings. I make up rituals, Kid thought. They try to comprehend them; and forced the memory of Lanya's green eyes shut.
Denny fingered up the projector. (The chain tickled Kid's chest.) Biting his lower lip, Denny unsnapped the sphere. He pushed the battery between the clips with his thumb.
Kid moved both caged and free fingers on the blades, and let his hand swing against Denny's pants. "You got a hard-on."
"I know." Denny sucked in his lips and thumbed the projector case closed. It clicked. "Okay." Without looking up, he turned for the door.
Kid put his thumb between his own legs and hooked his genitals forward against his pants. "Hey, turn around."
Denny turned.
"And smile."
Denny laughed, and then tried to stop the laughter. Shaking his head, he said, "You're real crazy." Then he went out.
"Jesus Christ!" Thirteen pushed in around the boy. "Hey, it's the Kid!" He turned and repeated to Smokey, like an after-image at his shoulder: "It's the Kid. Hey, Kid, they told me you were around here but I thought you split already. How you doing?"
Kid nodded. The door closed behind them. There isn't room in this kitchen for all these people. Kid thought.
"Glad to see you!" Thirteen nodded back. "Before you cut out. I mean…" He held the strap of his tank top from his shoulder. "…you cutting out?"
"I don't know."
"I mean, you stay as long as you want That's fine with me. They got all those God-damn freaks in here, I'm really glad to have somebody like you, you know?"
"Thanks," Kid said and wondered what Thirteen wanted.
"Um…" Thirteen said, obviously uncomfortable. "Um… somebody told me you been fuckin' around with the kids, huh?"
"Huh?"
"I mean somebody heard you guys going at it in the loft. You know?" Thirteen grinned; and still looked uncomfortable. "I mean, how old are they, fifteen? Sixteen? I mean, I just sort of feel responsible for them, because they're not that old, you know?"
"I wasn't fucking with them. They were fucking with me."
"Yeah," Thirteen said and nodded. "They're too much, huh? I mean, I don't care what you do, man. It's not a moral thing." Suddenly he reached behind him and drew Smokey up under his arm. "I mean, Smokey here is, what are you, honey? Eighteen? And I mean, seventeen, eighteen, there ain't that much difference. I just don't want to see anybody hurt them, that's all."
"I'm not out to hurt anybody."
"Yeah, man. Sure." Thirteen nodded deeply. "I didn't think you were. It's just that, well… some people have, that's all. Come on inside, hey, and smoke some dope with me, hey? I mean, if you feel like it."
Kid let his caged hand fall to the side.
"I mean, maybe later, then, if you want to." Thirteen grinned again.
"It's good you… don't want anybody to get hurt."
Thirteen hesitated. "Thanks." Then he pulled Smokey a little closer, and they walked around Kid into the other room, while somebody outside the door said:
"Hello…?"
She and her shadow on the screening were out of register.
"Kid? That is you…?"
The door opened — she and his memory of her were, too.
She watched him with small things happening at her mouth that could have been preparation for either laughter or recrimination; and other small things happening in her green eyes.
"Oh, hey—!" he said anyway, because something was worming in his chest. It rose to heat his face, left him grinning and squinting. "Hey, I'm glad you…" His arms went out. She and his memory of her (the screen door clacked) came together between them. Her cheek butted against his, her laughter roared happily at his ear. "Oh, hey, I'm glad you came!" His arms had whipped across her back — one slightly out (and quivering for wanting to close) for the orchid.
She leaned away, "You sure?" and kissed him. "I'm glad too."
He kissed her — harder, longer, losing himself in it (as his hand hung, lost in air and metal; he bunched his fingers, loosened them) till he felt the thing in her shirt pocket, cutting.
He pulled back: Next to her harmonica was his pen.
She said, because she saw him looking, "The bartender at Teddy's told me to give it to you. He said you dropped it there—" and then he kissed her (it still cut) again; but he held on.
She pulled away, once more, wrinkling her nose. "Something smells good." Looking around, she went to the living-room door — he followed — leaned through with one hand on the white frame. "Hey, Nightmare — is there any more of that coffee?"
"You want some, sweetheart?" which was from Dragon Lady. "Help yourself."
Kid watched her cross the room, leaned back on the frame.
She squatted to fill a cup — looked in it first; someone must have used it, but she shrugged — from the enamel pot. Once she glanced back at him, pushed hair from her forehead, grinned. She picked up the cup and returned. The warmth inside him still grew.
On the couch, Denny's girl and Copperhead were going through some sort of toasting game, clicking brims and laughing.
Nightmare was saying, "I can't hang around this place all day! Hey, Dragon Lady, you gonna come with me? I mean I can't hang around—"