Frank had had the duty of carrying Scott up to his bedroom after his eldest son passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor. More than incensed, he dropped him on his bed and paced his bedroom while Scott slept, trying to fabricate an appropriate punishment, but not finding one harsh enough to fit his irritation. However, as usual, his anger subsided, though not completely, and he allowed his son to sleep for the next few hours.
"He's out cold." Frank replied, shaking his head, his blue eyes shimmering with disappointment. "That boy is going to drive me to an early grave." He admitted, leaning his shoulder against the archway to the living room. He was dressed to go out in a green Polo shirt like Timber's and the jeans Clint had picked out for him, a black leather belt clasp around his waist. His keys jingled together as the ring that held the bunch together hung from between his fingers, swinging with his gesticulations.
Bob exchanged a look with Timber who sat beside him on the couch. She did not say a word, only grinned, turning the page of her magazine.
"Sheila and I have to get going..." Frank commented, checking the shiny watch on his left wrist before looking up at Bob. "Keep an eye on my little hell raiser will you? No parties, no booze. I mean it." He added sternly.
Bob nodded, leaning further back into the couch and resting his hand on Timber's smooth knee, dancing his fingers over the soft skin. "Yeah Dad. Roger that." He agreed non-confrontationally.
Frank peered at Bob for a moment before smirking. "I trust you son." He said, walking back out into the foyer. "SHEILA!!! We've gotta get a move on!"
Bob looked to Timber and whispered. "Man, they'll be gone all night. What do you wanna do?" he asked.
Timber shrugged, still reading Vogue with her legs flung over Bob's lap. "We can call the others and hang out. Jeanine's already pissed at me for blowing her off this morning. I was supposed to dance with her, but I apparently forgot while playing cover commando with your sheet-hogging ass. Game, set, match: Bob." She added with a pseudo-irked expression on her face, but didn't look up from her reading material.
Bob grinned. "Sorry." He apologized, patting her legs once more.
"Yeah... you should be." She muttered, turning the page sharply.
"So do you wanna have a thing at your house?" Bob asked, seeming to be quite intense about the situation as he watched her face intently.
"Okeley-dokely."
"Shit... what about Scott?" Bob asked himself, trying to think of a remedy for the current issue that plagued him.
"He'll be up by then..." Timber shrugged, though she really had no idea.
Frank peeked his head into the room again. "We're outta here kids. Be good."
"Bye Dad." "Bye Mr. Frank."
"So should I call someone?" Bob asked, tucking his hair behind his ear after his father and stepmother's departure.
"Okay."
"How about like... eight? It's about seven-thirty now. They should be able to move their asses."
"Okay."
Timber turned the page.
"And like... how about I snort some crack before they get here."
"Okay."
"And then I can fuck your mom."
"Okay--- what?!" Timber looked up at him.
"You weren't listening to me!" Bob accused with a shriek.
"Yes I was." Timber lied in a tone that was not convincing in the least.
"No you weren't!" Bob argued, wide-eyed and angry. He wrapped his arm around her neck and tugged her head to his chest in a headlock. "You weren't listening!!!" he indicted, ruffling her hair with his fist.
"Stop!!! ARGHHHH!!!" Timber cried.
Bob relented, keeping her head to his chest, but no longer mussing her hair. "So I'll call Jen, Kel, Ben, Carm, and Gie and tell them to meet at your house at like... eight. Okay? Did you hear that?"
Timber giggled, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tee-shirt. He smelled incredibly good and she didn't mind being held to his chest; she actually rather liked it. His strong arms around her, his skin in contact with her own... she was in a state of heaven, smiling to herself as she wallowed in this euphoria for a moment too long. She had almost forgotten what love felt like, but it was times like that which served as reminders.
"You little..." Bob started to say, releasing her. "Reading yer fahshon mahgazine." He feigned Clint's Canadian accent.
"So you DO remember!" Timber accused. "And you remember kissing Scott!!!"
"DO NOT!" Bob defended himself, pushing her legs away and getting up. "I am GOING to go call our friends. I will not have you speak of this 'kissing Scott' nonsense."
With that, Bob pranced haughtily out of the living room and across the foyer to the office, shutting the door behind him.
* * *
Dave sat on his bed, as he had been for the past few hours, hanging his head in his hands and teetering dangerously on the edge of tears. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to hurt himself for what he had done. He had betrayed Scott's trust in him. He had hurt his brother once again, only to be ostracized even more. He hated the fact that Scott hated him, and he couldn't help but blame himself. In the past few months, things had actually been bearable regarding his relationship with his eldest brother, but he knew that would shatter because it was inevitable. Unequivocally, Scott was going to find out what had happened between his little brother and his girlfriend. Dave knew that would tear him apart. That would tear the crew apart. Worst of all, that would tear the family apart.
Again.
She couldn't even look at him that morning. He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes as she looked everywhere except him, trying to erase the memory of his hands on her, of him forcing himself upon her. He could barely even remember what had happened the night before, but what he did remember, he wanted to forget. He could recall the touch of her skin. He could recall holding her arms down and kissing her neck, kissing her chest, tasting her skin in a selfish rush of emotion...
A tear finally drizzled miserably from the corner of his eye, dripping into his palm and coursing down the inside of his wrist. The floodgates were opened and he began to sob despondently.
She couldn't even look at him. She couldn't even look at him. So he had left. He had collected his clothing, dressing hastily, and left... and never to turn back.
How could he face her again? How could he look into her eyes knowing what had happened? How could he have gotten himself into such a quagmire? He didn't know what had come over him that night, he just knew that being near her cause him to act animalistic, severing his ties with logic and releasing a raging passion, imposing this passion on the one woman he knew he could never touch without a horde of wounds being exposed.
But he had done it anyways. He didn't know why.
"Dave," Clint said, just on the other side of his shut bedroom door.
Dave immediately sat up erect, glancing across the way to the mirror and scrubbing his eyes furiously, trying to reduce the puffiness, the streaks of tears on his cheeks. "Yeah?" he called out, his voice damp and sticky as his words got lodged in his throat.
"Come on, we're going to Timber's." Clint replied, jingling the doorknob. "Why're you locked in man? What are you doing in there? Come out. You've been in here all day. Come on."
"One sec!" Dave exclaimed, standing up and going to the mirror where he continued to rub his eyes, fanning his cheeks furiously. He smoothed his hands back through his hair a few times before going to the door, his socks sinking into the carpet. "What?" he asked, meeting Clint's curious stare.
"What're you doing in here?" Clint asked curiously. "Why are your eyes so red? Are you smoking pot?" he demanded, bombarding his brother with questions.
Dave wrinkled a brow, releasing an exasperated sigh as he leaned against the door jamb. "No... I was just sleeping." He fibbed.
Clint, less than an inch shorter than his fraternal triplet, peered closely at Dave. "Hey man, are you okay?" he asked quietly as to privatize their conversation. "You look like you've been crying or something. You're acting really weird. Are you okay?" He put his hand on Dave's shoulder as the slightly younger boy evaded his eyes.
"I'm... I'll be fine." Dave said softly.
Clint gazed introspectively at him for a moment before slowly nodding. "Okay... but you know..."
"I know." Dave nodded, already knowing what he was going to say.
Clint nodded once more. "Come on man. Let's go."
* * *
Timber bent down on her porch, tipping the chrome pot of grass by her front door and procuring the spare key to her house. She unlocked the door, returning the key before cautiously entering. The foyer was dark, so she flicked on the light by the door.
"I don't think anyone's home." She commented to Bob, Clint, Dave, and Scott who trailed behind her.
Timber released her caution and pranced in. "I guess no one's here." She shrugged.
"It's cold in here." Clint commented.
Scott took out his flask of Jaggermeister and took a swig. "Yeah." He agreed.
Bob took notice of this and frowned angrily. "Hey! Give me that!" he exclaimed, but Scott held the bottle away from him, taking another drink.
"I'll stop drinking!" the eldest brother exclaimed. "Chillax man, chillax. I'll stop."
"Good." Bob relented.
"In a little while." Scott muttered, taking another swig.
Timber eyed him. "How can you just drink like that? I mean, that stuff tastes like shit! I can't just drink liqueur unless it's like... no. I really can't just drink liqueur." She said, flicking the hallway light on and heading for the basement.
"I slept off most of my buzz." Scott commented dryly. "I feel relaxed now. So I drink by duty, not by taste." He smirked, taking another swig.
Dave lingered behind, not saying anything.
"You're going to drink yourself to death." Bob commented sternly, following behind Timber down the stairs.
"Well I'll die happy." Scott countered. "And no, I've been excreting all day!" he exclaimed. "I've been peeing every two minutes! And not just any pee, big Mammasita peeing. Like the kind you pee when you drank an extra-large Coke at the movies and didn't wanna get up to piss it out. This is big time." He explained lethargically.
"You're such a bum Scott." Clint commented.
"I know what you mean about the peeing thing." Timber agreed, just nodding at their shared experience.
"That's because you pee like every two minutes." Bob pointed out. "Damn, you get up like twelve times a night."
Timber shrugged, finding her way to her kayak and settling in. "That's only because I wet the bed until I was in the double digits. So I've learned to get up every time my bladder as much as twitches. I mean, it's either I pee in the toilet or all over you." She snickered. "So be glad, just be glad."
"Bob wet the bed for a long time too, but not until he was in the double-digits man." Clint pointed out, flopping into an inflatable chair and running his hands back through his hair. "But he wet the bed the longest."
Bob paused for a moment, almost about to settle onto the large beanbag chair. "Wait a minute..." he said, his derriere just about to make contact with the plush object. "No... actually you wet the bed the longest Clint!" he reminded his twin, snickering. "Man, you peed in the bed like every night! It was hilarious! And then you cried!" Bob was guffawing before he could continue.
Clint's face was crimson as he pouted out his lip. "I refuse to talk about this."
"And then there was Scott..." Bob commented, shaking his head. "Lord help us."
"Hey maaaaaan..." Scott cut in, pointing a slowed and barely precise finger at Bob. "I never frick-frackin' peed in the goddamned bed."
"Yeah, but you did breast feed longer than we did." Bob reminded his older brother, no longer paying attention to the fact that Scott was getting drunker by the passing second.
"So? Chandler breast fed longer than I did." Timber pointed out. "I always fell asleep."
Bob began to chuckle, leaning forward and shaking his head. "No, no, no Timbo... Scott breast-fed up until we were born, while we were breast-feeding, and then some. This kid was a breast addict. He was asking for it eventually. It was traumatizing really..." he trailed off, leaning back into the beanbag chair and just sighing sadly.
Timber looked from Bob, to Scott, who had moved to the floor, back to Bob, then to Scott again. She shook her head slightly, her wispy hairs tickling on her cheeks. "That's pitiful man, just plain pitiful." She said mournfully.
"Tell me about it." Clint put it.
"You all shut the... the fuck up or I'll do something really... really bad." Scott threatened half-assedly.
"Ooooh. Watch out now. We wouldn't want drunk-ass Scott to do something bad." Clint mocked, waving his fingers fancifully in front of him.
"Just don't puke again. Then I'll be forced to do something bad." Timber harshly informed him. "I'm not joking around." She added, her eyes wide and somewhat frantic with her threats. She pushed her pestering hair back behind her ears.
Bob laughed. "Yeah, so no fucking up Scott." He snapped. "Hey, you guys, let's page Ben and tell him to bring some weed. I wanna get high."
"Why call Ben?" Scott asked, waving his bottle gloriously over his head.
"Do you have the shit?" Timber asked with a smirk, quite impressed.
"Shweet-hauht, I invented the shit." Scott informed her, smirking.
* * *
"Man, I can really use time to just chill." Jeanine commented, stepping out of the passenger's seat of Ben's rugged Jeep Wrangler. "My mom's been riding my ass like all the time these days. She trying to get me to come work with her at her office. Yeah right." She snickered, pulling her flimsy zip-up and hooded sweatshirt tighter around her body in the summer breeze.
Underneath her light-grey hooded jacket, she wore a pair of maroon sweat shorts, compliments of Abercrombie, and a fatigue green tank top. Her flip-flops made flapping noises as she started up Timber's front walk beside her cousin.
"Yeah, my mom's trying to get me to work too. But I want to get a job or something. It's so boring around here during the day." Kelly said, sliding her arm in Jeanine's.
She was dressed down in a pair of jeans and a pale-pink tee. Angela lagged behind, following the motif of casualness in a pair of loose jeans and a white 'Herrera 212' tee. Ben too was clad in worn-out jeans, his favorite Birkenstock clogs, and a pale yellow tee shirt that had a cartoon little boy with a cartoon little girls under each arm and read, "Tom is a true mack-daddy. Pimp, Tom, pimp."
The foursome started towards the Moores' front door, the sound of Ben's jeep automatically locking by remote control sounding through the silent and still night.
"Hey! Guys!"
The four spun around in succession to spot Carmen running across the street in a pair of short jean cut-offs and an orange strappy tank that was hard to decipher against her skin in the pale nighttime.
"Hey Carm!" Kelly called, waiting for her friend while the others continued up the walk. "What's up babe?" she asked, latching onto the girl's hand when she was within distance.
"Not a damned thing." Carmen replied. "I was just getting dressed and I saw Ben's booty-wagon pull up, so I hurried out. I didn't even get a chance to put on a bra."
"Too bad the shirt's orange." Ben commented, ringing the bell.
Carmen narrowed her eyes playfully at him. "Anyways, I guess that's just the upside of an A-slash-B cup." She continued to Kelly.
"There are days when I wish I knew how that was." Kelly smirked.
"Yeah right." Jeanine snorted, turning around. "Then you wouldn't be able to get out of traffic tickets."
Ben laughed. "Yeah, that's for sure." He said with a quick glance towards Kelly's chest.
The front door opened to reveal a rather apathetic young man of six feet and one hundred eighty-five pounds, a mild intimidation. The man looked almost exactly like Timber, the strong resemblance making the sarcastic expression on his face quite familiar.
"Hey Chandler!!!" Jeanine exclaimed, smiling. "Long time no see."
"Hey, how're you doing." Chandler smiled mildly, extending his hand to shake hers. He opened the door wider and disappeared into the house, heading down the hallway to the basement door. "TIMBER, your friends are here!"
The group of now five entered the suburban home, heading after Chandler to the basement door.
"What the fuck?" Timber exclaimed from deep in the sub-ground area of the house. "When did you get home?"
"Your friends are here!" Chandler called again, turning down the hall and making his way for the kitchen.
"Nice to see you too big bro! Ass..."
The sound of thunder echoed in the narrow staircase as ten feet clattered down the steps to the sitting area.
"What're you guys doing?" Jeanine immediately asked, stopping short and instigating the domino effect of the others running into her from behind.
"Nothing." Timber replied, clamping her lips into an awkward grin as she stifled a giggle.
"Oh my God... they killed Kenny!!!" Bob exclaimed.
"You bastards!" Clint finished.
"You guys are high!" Jeanine accused, stabbing a finger towards them in the dimly lit basement.
"No... we're low." Dave snorted.
"You down wit O.P.P.?" Bob inquired comically, his face open and calm.
"No, no..." Timber chortled, leaning onto him on the beanbag chair. She had moved to the floor beside him. "You down wit P.O.T.?"
"Yeah, you know me!" Dave cut in, chuckling.
Ben peeked over Jeanine's shoulder. "HEY!" he shouted, deeply hurt. "You guys got high without me!!!"
Jeanine rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you get high enough for the whole province."
Ben shrugged, agreeing with her. "Move it." He ordered, pushing her forward into the room. "Who did you buy from?" he demanded, wanting to know all the details. "What did you use to smoke up?"
"Hey, hey, hey... I... I am NOT high." Scott cut in, shaking his head loosely. "I am just drunk. Very drunk. Rediculously so... but I did NOT smoke up with them. I am a DECENT..."
"Shaddap Scott!" Clint giggled.
Ben plopped on his favorite beanbag in the corner.
"You guys are losers." Kelly informed them, going with her cousin to the opposite side of the room to sit on the couch as she entered the herb-smelling room.
Angela entered last, making it a point not to meet the eye of her boyfriend or his youngest brother. She followed Kelly and Jeanine to the couch and sat between them.
"We are NOT losers." Timber interjected. "WE are very cool. Very coooooool."
"Yeah..." Bob conceded. "Timbodini's right. And we only shared a joint. One joint. This buzz will soitenly not last long at all. I'm just buzzed... you know? Give me five minutes before my buzz is gone. Just like... five. And besides... everybody's doin' it."
Kelly smirked, pleased that her mother's mantra would prove itself accurate if only for one time. "So? If everyone jumped off a bridge... would you follow?" she asked with an omnisciently manicured eyebrow perked. "Hmmm???" she pressed.
"No, I'd be at the bottom to catch them!" Timber gloriously chimed.
"You mean... if everybody in the world... jumped off a bridge?" Clint asked, addled by such a query.
"That's highly unlikely." Dave undertoned.
"But if it happened... I mean... I wouldn't." Timber tried to reason, gesturing slowly. "I mean... well... you gotta think about how it would actually be... even if hypothetic."
"Hi pathetic!" Bob snorted, laughing and falling back into the beanbag.
"Is this how I act when I'm high?" Carmen asked rhetorically. "If so, them I'm quitting weed for good."
"Yeah right." Scott coughed, swigging more Jaggermeister and finally finishing off the bottle. He wasn't worried in the least, knowing he had another bottle stashed in his left cargo pocket.
"Well... I mean... the world has six billion people in it." Timber reasoned, gazing up towards the ceiling. "So... like... if everybidoddy, e'rybody, everbody---"
"EEEEE'rybody!" Bob exclaimed.
"If... everybid--- everyone... jumped... we'd get a lot of build-up. I mean... we'd get a lot of bodies collecting and eventually... it won't be a jump... but a step off the bridge. And then no one would die anymore."
"What about theys people whose jumps first?" Clint asked. "They haveta die... and the later peeps... they get to live."
Timber paused for a moment, pondering this. "Pedophiles and murderers go first!!!" she called out.
The sober counterparts of the crew began to laugh hysterically, as did Dave and Clint. Scott, however, was occupied with tearing the seal on his second bottle of liqueur, realizing he had made the mistake and brought a flask of whiskey as apposed to the Jaggermeister he preferred. Bob still lay back, staring at the ceiling and not noticing that Carmen was starting to plait his hair.
"But I would seriously not jump... I mean... it's like... what if... what if, I could make one person stay back with me... and then we can repopulate the earth and it would be like... Adam and Eve all over again. You know? If everyone jumped off a bridge, it'd be kinda like that cult think that happened in like Guatemala or New Guinea or something in the seventies. He had a cult and he made them all commit a mass suicide and drink this stuff... it was really scary. I saw it on a video in one of my classes. It was weird. I was like... whoa... weird. And then I was like... eeeeeew, that's weird. And I couldn't sleep for a while. It was scary. Like, the aerial view of the dead bodies. Like seven hundred of them... and babies and little kids too... I was like... scared not sleepful. Kinda like being scared shitless except you don't have any sleep. But then I slept and then I got over it and got my sleep back from scared. But I don't think it would work if we tried to use a pen to peel a potato. I mean that little clip that goes on your shirt kinda looks like it would be workable... but then... it's not sharp enough 'cause it's on your shirt and that makes it not sharp... 'cause then it'll peel a potato and your shirt too and then---"
"Timber." Jeanine interjected. "Shut the fuck up."
"HEY!" Timber exclaimed, meeting her eye with hostility. "That was undignified, unnecessary, and UNCALLED for."
* * *
Everyone settled down to revisit the nostalgia of watching a movie together, and for a good two hours, it was relatively silent in the Moore basement as the triplets and Timber recovered from their drug-induced height, Scott took a break from alcohol to let his liver rest, and the others were allowed a relaxation period. As the ending credits of "ET the Extra Terrestrial" rolled up the screen, the peace was shattered by Bob's voice.
"My high's gone." He pouted. "Damnit. That was a weak buzz." He complained.
"I'm still pretty buzzed..." Timber evaluated. "But it is pretty weak. I mean, it's like when you're first getting high and you're not high, but shit just doesn't feel real. You know?"
"Yeah... that's an after-buzz." Clint explained. "Like, when it's worn off but you still can feel a bit of it. Man... I mean... we didn't smoke all that much anyways. I didn't even get the tingles. I usually get the tingles."
"Yeah, I get more of a buzzing---"
"Okay, shut up!" Kelly shouted, shaking her hands in front of her to exemplify irrationality. "You guys are dorks. We just watched a movie that's almost twenty years old but still remains a classic film of epic proportions and you guys are talking about your lame-ass buzzes. You're stupid. Stop talking."
The triplets and Timber looked at their friend who had just spouted off at the mouth. Timber remained neutral, turning back to Bob as if Kelly had said nothing.
"You know what else is of epic proportions?" she asked. "Kelly's tits."
"My dick." Dave smiled proudly.
"Angela's ass." Clint snickered with a sleazy smile.
"Jeanine's nipples... when they're hard." Bob put in.
"Hey!" Carmen exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. "You'd better not be looking at any tits but these ones mister!" she informed him, pointing towards her chest with both hands.
"I was kidding Babe. I swear." Bob smirked. He looked to Timber. "The ole ball and chain... never let ya have any fun." He shook his head with regret.
"Hey, I'll put your balls on a chain if you keep talking about other girls' nipples." Carmen warned him, tugging a piece of his hair.
"My nipples aren't big." Jeanine said aloud, holding the collar of her shirt open so she could peek inside. "I have pretty small nipples actually. I mean... they're not like... huge."
"Um... thank you Jen. Thank you very much." Kelly said in a strained voice as she made a face. "Too bad we didn't ask... but thanks."
Jeanine pouted, releasing the collar of her tank and bringing her legs into her chest.
Once satisfied that he had had more than enough time away from his hangover reduction scheme, Scott decided it was about time he took a few more drinks to ensure he stayed drunk. He had been staggering to the bathroom every few minutes and feared he had excreted too much booze to keep him away from the dreaded after-drunk feeling. So he took his whiskey out of his pocket and took a small sip. The world around him fell upon deaf ears; he no longer had the desire to pay attention to the nine people surrounding him in a formation on the floor. The heavy-proofed alcohol had lost its flavor on the dulled taste buds of his tongue and slid down with much ease.
"Come on Scott, quit drinking." Bob said, leaning over from his perch in the beanbag chair and plucking the bottle from his older brother's hands.
While Scott did not have any awareness of the fact, he was indeed very intoxicated and didn't bother to put up a fight, even as Bob stumbled to his feet and crossed the room, careful to step over a relaxing Ben, and placed the bottle on the bar.
"How much has he drunk so far?" Kelly asked with a bit of concern in her voice. "He looks toasted."
"He is. He's been drunk since like, last night. He's been drinking in spurts all day." Clint responded, clicking his tongue.
"Speaking of drinks... I'm thirsty." Jeanine grinned, starting to get up.
"I'll go. Is that alright Tim? Do you want me to go get drinks?" Kelly asked, already on her bare feet.
"Yeah, go ahead." Timber nodded. "It's better than me having to get up." She snickered.
"Okay... me and Angie will go." Kelly volunteered her friend, grinning sharply as Angela was more than happy to volunteer.
The two girls hurried up the steps, leaving the other eight teens in a rather lazy silence. Scott teetered back and forth against the green inflatable chair, blinking slowly as he tried to figure out what was so important about Kelly's previous statements. He searched her phases, combing through her words before he finally stabbed a finger into the air in front of him, falling upon his answer.
Angela.
She had said something about Angela. Angela was his girlfriend. Had Angela really been in the room all that time? Scott tried to remember if he had as much as exchanged any words with her. He couldn't recall anything, thus, he decided to go ask.
Struggling to his feet, Bob asked what he was doing. Scott didn't pay much attention to his brother's inquiry; he was determined to make it to his feet. He hadn't even spoken to his girlfriend. He briefly wondered if she was as drunk as he was, but the thought was fleeting and he brushed it aside, wavering for a moment and realizing he could actually stand pretty well compared to the last time he had gotten up to go to the bathroom. He was no longer rip-roaring drunk and figured that was good if he planned to converse with any members of the human race, especially Angela. Dear... sweet... Angela. Scott caught the wall of the stairwell, providing support as things gradually became clear. For instance, the carpeting was grey... the walls were white... the door was open... the stairs were becoming fewer and fewer as he made his way to the top. He reached the top step, releasing the wall and wavering for a moment as if he might fall, but quickly gaining his bearings. He no longer had a seasick sluggishness to his legs, but felt he was actually functioning well, though he was sweating quite profusely. He was actually overheating, but that didn't bother him. He had to remember... drinks... they were going to get drinks. Scott grinned, keeping his bare feet silent on the freezing tiles, wanting to surprise them. It would be funny if he rushed into the room screaming wildly and startling them. The kitchen was to the right. He had to move right. He smirked to himself, covering his mouth with his hand.
"... so what happened? DON'T leave me hanging Angie. I wanna know!"
"Nothing really happened Kelly... I mean... I did what I had to do... I guess."
"Oh please Angela! Don't even start that subservient bullshit. Scott deserved it. And you know Dave wanted it. So you should have given it to him. I would have. No contest." She paused for a moment, her tone lightening. "So did you fuck him or what?" she asked eagerly.
The clanking of glasses.
"Dave?" Angela asked.
"I know you fucked Scott Angela... I want to know what happened last night with Dave!" Kelly exclaimed in an excited, but low voice. "I mean... you did mess around... didn't you?"
Angela paused before replying, "Well... yes. We did fool around."
"And you fucked him... right?"
"Well..." Angela began evasively.
* * *
"You son of a bitch."
Jeanine, Carmen, Timber, Bob, Clint, Ben, and Dave all looked up, Dave surprised to see that this statement was directed towards him. Scott stood, red faced and panting, as if he were a rabid beast, his eyes parting the small arrangement of his friends, sitting on and around the sofa against the side wall, and slicing directly into his youngest brother. Dave's blood ran cold.
He knew. He had somehow found out.
"You fucking son of a bitch... my own brother. My own fucking brother..." Scott's voice was no more than a gravely whisper as his stony grey eyes turned to cold slits, sparkling with tears. "MY OWN FUCKING BROTHER!!!" he suddenly shrieked, his fists balled. "You FUCKED her!" he accused, his chest visibly rising and falling with his labored breath.
Dave's eyes widened before diffusing with guilt and panic. "Scott... I..."
"I SWEAR!!! I swear to fucking GOD!!! I will KILL you!" his face was blood red, perspiration glistening on its surface under the circular recess lights from the low ceiling. His muscles were incredibly tensed and mechanical as he slowly raised a condemning finger to point at Dave. "I will never forgive you." He growled in a barely audible tone.
"Scott..." Dave started to say, utterly lost for a legitimate explanation. He started to get to his feet, afraid of the physical advantage Scott would have when on a higher level.
"No..." Scott shook his head, slowly at first than rapidly, his matted hair flicking recklessly as the boy tried to clear the cloud of liquor-smoke in his mind. He had to think straight. Gripping his hair, he tried to get his head to stop swimming, but anger seized rationality. "Just SHUT THE FUCK UP DAVE! You FUCKED my girlfriend!!! You fucking ASS-HOLE!" Scott screamed.
"Hey, Scott..." Bob soothed, standing up to create a barrier and prevent any altercation that might arise.
"Shut the FUCK up Bob! I don't need your SHIT right now!" Scott exclaimed, seething beyond his comprehension.
"What the hell is all the screaming?" Kelly asked, thumping down the steps with Angela close behind.
Angela stopped short at the bottom of the stairs when Scott turned to her, a hate in his eyes that she had never seen before. He glared at her as if she were a stranger. She abhorred inwardly, trying to escape his eyes.
"Scott..." she said softly.
He held his hand up firmly, his eyes leaving hers. "Don't." he snapped, turning back to Dave. "Don't defend this... this trash." He sneered, glaring Dave from head to toe. "This bastard... you aren't even my brother Dave. From this moment on... you don't exist to me. I never want you to come near me again. I hate you Dave. I honest to God hate you, and I will always remember, and I will always hate you with the same passion I hate you with now." He said in a measured, yet increasingly angry and hateful tone of voice.
Dave slowly shook his head. "Scott..." he stammered, feeling his eyes filling up.
"What?!?! What are you going to say Dave? That you didn't mean to fuck her? That you slipped and your dick just FELL into my girlfriend? FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU!!! Don't even TALK to me... just GET OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE BEFORE I KILL YOU! It's taking ALL I have at this moment not to just snap your FUCKING neck, but I swear I'll kill you... I swear... don't even FUCKING TEST me right now!" Scott growled, narrowing the space between them to the point that Bob held his arms out and shielded Dave with his body.
"What the fuck is going on?" Timber demanded.
No one replied.
"Step forward Dave! I know you've wanted her from the start! You were just WAITING for a chance to fuck her... to STAB me... YOUR OWN FLESH AND FUCKING BLOOD, in the heart! You know she's all I have! You know I love her so FUCKING much!"
"Scott... chill, okay? Just chill." Bob cooed, his hand son Scott's chest; his brother was panting. "Just chill."
"Fuck you!" Scott shouted, shoving Bob out of his way.
"Scott! Please!" Angela spoke up, not able to take such guilt on her heart. She met Dave's eye.
He looked at her with pleading eyes, trying to make sense of the whole situation.
"Scott! I was the one! It was my fault!" Angela exclaimed, running her trembling fingers back through her hair.
Scott fell silent, turning to her in a rigid slow motion. "What?" he whispered, feeling as if his heart was crumbling into dust. The room suddenly fell silent.
"It was me." Angela murmured, her eyes focused to the ground and she began to regret the entire event. "Don't blame Dave... he had nothing to do with this. I drugged him. I took advantage of him."
Nine jaws fell slack simultaneously. Scott's eyes widened in disbelief and mostly hurt. He suddenly did not know what was real and what was not. It was as if his world was beginning to blur and everything was stabbing at him all at once. His legs felt weak and he wanted to collapse to the ground with sobs that garnered in his throat as her words made an impression on the mush of his brain.
"Angela... no..." Dave murmured, out of breath from the realization that his night of forbidden bliss was all a sham. He didn't know if he should be relieved or angry... he just knew that he couldn't breath and the walls were closing in on him. His heart unraveled at a frightening pace and for the first time in all the time he had known her, he finally realized that his crush was pointless. He meant nothing to her. Suddenly, at that moment, his love for her was not important at all. He looked away from her, not able to believe what his ears had just perceived.
Scott finally found the words to speak.
"You whore." He whispered, slowly, trying to make the impact of his words last. " You fucking whore." He spat as if she were a criminal.
Angela's eyes met his and she too filled with anger. "So it's okay if you do it and not me?!" she shouted, feeling the mounting anger in her throat. "So you can fuck around with anything wearing something tight and it's okay? To someone you say you love..." she whispered incredulously. "To someone you say you fucking love! And you slept with her!" she screamed, loosing all logic as her eyes welled with tears. "But it's okay for you... because I forgot... that makes you a man, right? THAT MAKES YOU A MAN!!!"
"Wha---"
"Cut the bullshit Scott! I'm not going to allow you to pull the wool over my eyes any longer! I know about Delta. I know about you and Delta. I know you had sex with her after I left the party! Don't lie to me! I can't take your... you lying to me anymore!" Angela's voice broke as she gestured vehemently, trying to keep her eyes wide so she did not blink and squeeze the tears from them. Her face was an angry, screaming red, flushed of all natural color as she felt like all her emotions were being flushed out of her in that moment.
"What the fuck are you talking about?!" Scott demanded. "What the fuck are you even talking about?!"
Angela glared at him, all other entities in the room having long since dissipated leaving just the two of them. "I will not allow you to walk all over me anymore." She informed him, dropping her voice to a calmer level as she scrapped for whatever reason she had left.
Scott shook his head. "I never slept with anyone but you!" he exclaimed, not caring who heard him and not caring if he sounded crazy, or drunk, or wanton. "And I DON'T have a FUCKING CLUE what you're fucking TALKING about!" he screamed with equal intensity. "All I know is that YOU are a FUCKING WHORE and a SLUT, and a little piece of trash that will let anything with a dick fuck her! How much did he pay you? How much do you charge by the hour? Or do you let just everyone have a taste?!" he leaned forward with his arms spread wide, taunting her. "You're just the fucking community ass aren't you? What... are you going to fuck Bob? Clint? Are you going to drug them and FUCK them too?!"
"FUCK YOU!!!" Angela shrieked, not caring that he had narrowed the space between them to a dangerous proximity. Her tears spilled over silently as she was blinded by rage.
Bob stepped forward to intervene as Scott reached for her, but he was stopped by Clint's hand on his upper arm, telling him not to butt in.
"Never AGAIN!" Scott bellowed, gripping her upper-arms with all of his might and shaking her. Her curly hairs bobbed furiously around her face as he rattled her body. "I NEVER want to see you again! You SLUT! If I ever see you on the street, I will WALK the other fucking way! And if your name comes up in conversation, I'll CHANGE it! You're PATHETIC! You DISGUST ME! You make me want to THROW UP!!!" he shouted directly into her face. "You and me Angela? WE'RE OVER!"
She tried to shake his grip from her arms, but he only tightened his fists, bruising her skin with his brute strength.
"I wish I never met you." Scott growled in her face.
Angela released a sobbing gasp, struggling to get free form the pain he was inflicting on her.
"Scott!" Bob stood up, for a second believing that his brother might hit her.
Scott roughly shoved her backwards from him. "I never loved you anyways." He muttered, turning away in disgust and detouring to the bar to snatch his bottle of whiskey from the edge before thumping up the stairs.
The air was completely still, no one daring to move, let alone speak. The thick sound of the slamming front door echoed down to the basement and Angela cupped her hand over her mouth, releasing another sob into her palm before breaking into tears.
Jeanine shook her head slightly, as if she were still trying to convince herself that it had all been an act. Dave had slept with Angela. Her eyes roamed in front of her for a moment as she tried to comprehend what emotions she felt in that instant. Knowing she had to get out of that room as soon as possible, she quickly got up from the couch, her hooded jacket falling off one shoulder. She hastily resituated it on the way to the stairs, taking them two at a time at a fierce speed.
It was at that moment that Dave knew what had been in front of him all along. He ran after her.
Angela stood in the middle of the basement under a beam of light, crying inconsolably, her body racking furiously with sobs that rushed to be released all at once.
No one knew what to say. They all just knew it was the end of the sun.
* * *