Red - Part One, Chapter Five

Party time: Peter and Nick throw Lee an unusual birthday party on the off chance that he and Hara can patch things up. Ready to Rumble: Nick's girlfriend comes to visit, much to Peter's chagrin.

You Can’t Play the Same Way Twice

 

            Peter stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him. Nick looked up from his spot on the couch.

            “As much as I enjoy knowing you are back from wherever the hell you were, do you have to do it loudly?” Nick asked mildly. Peter ignored him, threw his books on the couch, and proceeded directly to the cupboard where he unearthed a box of cookies and began eating them noisily.

            “I’m beginning to think that you don’t do anything quietly.”

            “Not true,” Peter remarked disgruntled. He shoved another cookie into his mouth. “I take tests quietly.” He thought for a moment. “And I do homework quietly.” Nick got up off the couch, walked into the kitchen, and took a cookie out of the box Peter was holding.

            “Au contraire, mi amigo. Do you not recall the time Johanna Simmons, who was sitting in a completely different area of the library, had a mental breakdown in the middle of the AP Statistics test because she claimed you were breathing too loudly?”

            “First of all, I would appreciate if you would pick French or Spanish even if you do slaughter both languages. Secondly, that girl has issues.”

            “No one should be able to hear you breathing form the opposite side of the library.”

Peter grumbled as he took another cookie, closed the box, put the box back in the cupboard, and opened the refrigerator, staring moodily into its depths. Nick leaned on the counter, arms crossed and stared at him. Peter finally picked out a cheese stick and shut the door.

            “Was work that bad today?”

            “I found new ways to supposedly screw up very simple tasks, if that’s what you mean.” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Okay,” Peter continued. “So my boss tells me to set the tables with the napkins folded in a triangle on the plates. And I do like she says, but when she does the final rounds, she wants the napkins folded like flowers.”

            “So now triangle fold means flower fold like flower fold means next to the plate and next to the plate means above the plate….” Nick trailed off. Peter threw up his hands and turned to look at the calendar.

            “This must be Thursday,” he said taking a bite of his cheese stick. “I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” Peter brought the cheese stick up for another bite, but froze with the stick halfway to his mouth. Nick walked over to join him.

            “Lee’s birthday is in two weeks.” Peter said. There was a long silence. “We gotta do something.”

            “Absolutely.” Nick replied.

            You know what we gotta do?” Peter asked, looking up at Nick. Nick grinned down at him.

            “Toga Party!” they chorused.

 

            “This is s**t. Why am I taking Trig?” Hara asked, scribbling furiously.

            “It’s pointless, so I have no idea.” Jane said, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. The two girls sat in the library at tables, trying to finish some homework before the next period after their lunch break. Hara heard someone flop down in the chair next to her, but did not look up.

            “How’s it coming?” asked a female voice in her ear. Without pausing her writing, Hara glanced sideways, finding herself eye to eye with Marla.

            “It’s not,” she said hunching back over her paper. “It’s getting progressively more difficult, if you must know.”

            “I mustn’t, but it is useful nonetheless.”

Hara grunted and continued to scribble furiously. Marla leaned in to look at Hara’s work, but couldn’t see as she was obscuring the paper with her arm. Marla gave up and stared moodily into space. After a few minutes the bell rang as Hara put the finishing touches on her homework. She shut her paper in her book, scooped her books into her back, got up, pushed in her chair in, and walked out of the library. Marla and Jane followed her out of the library and down the steps towards their next class. Halfway to Centennial, Hara heard a voice somewhere above her head as her eyes were covered. She stopped.

            “Guess who?” a male voice asked.

            “Can I have a hint?” she smiled.

            “He’s blond, he’s 6’8”, green eyes….”

            “Hi, Nick,” she said as he took his hands off her eyes and he joined the girls on their walk.

            “What is the freak of nature doing here?” asked Marla grumpily.

            “I love you too, Mini Cooper.”

            “I’m leaving.” Marla announced and walked ahead, leaving Hara and Jane with Nick.

            “You two used to date or something?” Jane asked watching Marla’s retreating back.

            “No, she’s my cousin. Real pain in the a*s,” Nick laughed. “Especially to Lee. He refers to Marla as his tumor.”

            “Is that so?” Jane asked, looking over at Hara.

            “She’s your cousin?” Hara looked up at Nick.

            “Yeah, and like I said, bugs the hell out of Lee.”

            “Hmm.” Hara paused, unsure if she should ask the next question, but she did anyway. “How is Lee?”

            “He’s fine. His birthday is in a couple of weeks.”

            “Really?” Jane asked

            “Yes, and it just so happens that you two ladies merited an invitation to the party Peter and I are throwing for him.”

            “Sounds awesome,” Jane mused.

            “It’s at five on the 30^th. Our room number is 118 in Gregory. Wear a toga.”

            “A toga?” Hara asked.

            “Yeah, it’s a toga party.” Nick said.

            “Does Lee know it’s a toga party?” Jane asked.

            “Pft. No.” Nick shrugged.

            “Ah,” Jane said. “Sounds fun.”

            “Tons. My girlfriend is catering and she is the most awesome chef ever.”

            “Sounds good. We’ll be there.” Jane smiled.

            “Cool. Catch you ladies later.” He winked at them and turned down the hallway while they ducked into their math class. Hara blew her hair out of her face as she sat down, bringing her bag down with a bang on the desk.

            “So,” Jane asked turning around. “Togas sound fun.” Hara glared at her.

            “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know you wanted to go. You can’t tell me you don’t want to see him.” Hara continued to glare at her as the teacher entered the classroom. Jane turned around, smiling. Hara’s scowl left her face after Jane turned around. She was right – Hara DID want to see Lee…and the toga would definitely be a bonus.

 

            “Dude, can we borrow your car?” Peter asked. Lee looked up at him over his math book, which read “Don’t Panic” in large friendly letters on the front.

            “Why do you want to borrow my car?”

            “Because it’s bigger than Nick’s car.”

            “Why would you need a bigger car?”

            “We were going to do some shopping.”

            “How much shopping could you possibly do that would require that much room?”

            “We’re out of like, everything.”

            “We eat in the cafeteria. How can we be out of everything?”

            “We eat a lot of food that isn’t in the cafeteria….” Peter tried. Lee looked back down at his math book.

            “You may not borrow my car. Use Nick’s car.”

            “But we are getting a lot of stuff and his car is small.”

            “No.”

            “LEEEEEE….” Peter whined. Lee looked back over the top of the math book.

            “I said no. Besides, you lied to me the other night when you told me you didn’t take my car for the nugget run. It still smells like food in there.”

            “That was two weeks ago, why are you still ragging on me about that?”

            “I like my new car smell. Is that so wrong?”

            “Yes. It needs to smell driven, lived in, you know what I mean?”

            “Yes, but no. Use Nick’s car.”

            “Guh.”

Lee smiled to himself as he looked back down at his math book. He heard Peter grab some keys out of the bowl on the counter and looked up at him again.

            “Nick’s keys don’t jingle that much.”

            “Yes, they do.”

            “Nick’s keys don’t make any noise because there are only two keys on the ring. Mine make a lot of noise because I keep like five keys plus a couple of key chains on my ring.” Lee reasoned. Peter stomped his foot loudly and made a rather impressive pouty face.

            “Peter, you can’t take my car. How many different ways can I say it?”

            “You’ve probably said it as many ways as you can.” Peter grumped as he put Lee’s keys back in the bowl and took out Nick’s keys. He held them up and jingled them so that Lee could see that he had the correct set of keys. Lee smiled, rather pleased with himself, and went back a fourth time to his math book. A moment later, he heard the door close as Peter went out. Just to be sure, Lee got up off of the couch and went to the bowl on the counter. His keys were gone. Lee sighed. If his friends hated his car, why did they like to drive it so much?

 

 

 

“Do you have any idea how to do this?” Hara asked, starting at herself in the mirror. She held up a large white sheet around her waist and was trying to figure out how to tie it.

            “Make sure all of your knots are tight. We don’t want you to flash anyone again.” Jane’s voice came from the other room followed by the clicking of computer keys.

            “Well, I figured that much out. I meant, do you have any idea how to tie this?”

            “I’m Google-ing it right now.” Jane said again. Hara laughed, dropping the ends of the sheet she was holding. “Shut up!” Jane yelled. There was more clicking of computer keys. Hara recovered and picked up the ends of the sheet again. Holding one corner up in front of her to her left shoulder, she wound the other side of the sheet around under the other half of the sheet, under her arm, and tied the corners on her left shoulder. Hara then studied herself in the mirror. Not bad for not knowing how to do it. She thought briefly about trying a belt or something around her waist, but thought better of it.

            “Okay, I’ve got it.” Jane said as she came into the room, waving a piece of paper. She stopped when Hara turned around. “I hate you.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you are so well proportioned.”

            “You’re well proportioned.” Hara smiled. Jane blew a raspberry.

            “I do not call having my lower and upper halves being equal in length and being ‘blessed’ with thighs the size of tree trunks equally proportioned.”

            “Oh, please. Don’t give me that.”

            “It’s true.” Jane said, setting the piece of paper down on the bed and picking up her own sheet. “Now, how did you do that?”

Hara laughed and helped Jane wind the sheet around her and tie it at the shoulder. Jane then went to the mirror and studied herself.

            “Belt or no?” she asked, turning around.

            “I’m not going with a belt, but you can. Try it on and see what you think.” Hara said. Jane took one of the sarongs lying on the bed and folded it as small as she could lengthwise and tied it around her waist before returning to her reflection.

            “Oh, my God. Hara, look at my butt. It is soo big.” Jane said, a look of disgust crossing her face. 

            “Then don’t do the belt thing.” Hara laughed. Jane unwound the sarong from around her waist and threw it back on the bed.

            “If that is it, then let’s go, shall we?” Jane asked, holding out her arm.

            “I do believe we shall.” Hara said, linking her arm with Jane as they walked out the door.

 

            “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. And did I mention that I hated you?”

            “About thirty times now. I don’t see what you are so upset about.”

            “A toga party? Come on, Peter. You couldn’t come up with anything tamer?”

            “No. Besides I like togas.” Peter grinned. Lee glared at him.

            “I feel Greek. This is not kosher.”

            “Oh, come on. Just go with it.”

            “The last time I ‘went’ with one of your crazy ideas, I got chased around a country club by a girl wielding a five iron.”

            “We aren’t anywhere near a golf course, so rest assured, there will be no five irons.”

            “I still hate you.”

            “No you don’t. Come on now, you can’t ditch your own party.” Peter said going to the door and holding it open. Lee sighed, got up off of his bed, and went into the lounge where Nick was decorating their coffee table with a colorful assortment of coasters.

            “I’m glad you came around.” Nick smiled. Lee shrugged.

            “It’s not like you guys were going to let me go.”

            “Bismilla! We will not let you go.” Peter and Nick chorused.

            “Now I’m scared. Let me go.”

            “Bismilla! We will not let you go.”

            “Let me go.” Lee edged towards the door.

            “Bismilla! We will not let you go.”

            “Let me go.”

            “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

There was a soft knock on the door followed by an equally soft voice.

            “Mama Mia, let him go and open the door. If you wouldn’t mind.”

Lee smiled and opened the door, revealing a skinny girl with short dark brown hair, smiling brown eyes holding a tray of food. She moved into the room, set the tray on the counter, and went back to the door to hug Lee.

            “Hi, Margaux. How are you?”

            “I’m doing pretty well. How have you been?”

            “I’ve been better, actually.” Lee said, releasing her. Margaux laughed.

            “Then perhaps,” she said disappearing back into the hallway, reappearing moments later with more food and a wrapped gift, which Nick took from her. “This will make you feel better.” She handed him the present, which he accepted.

            “Margaux, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

            “I know, but I wanted to get you something. Besides, I saw it and it had your name written all over it.” she smiled. Lee smiled back and carefully tore the paper off of the gift. He let it fall to the floor as he turned it over in his hands. It was a vinyl edition of a Louis Armstrong album that had long been out of circulation.

            “Oh, Margaux, I love it.”

            “Isn’t it awesome?” she smiled. Lee hugged her again.

            “Thank you. This is wonderful.”

            “You are most welcome.” Lee released her and she went to Nick and embraced him.

            “I was wondering when you were going to greet your boyfriend.”

            “I was getting to you.” Margaux grinned. Nick released her and looked her over.

            “You look beautiful, darling.”

            “Thank you. As do you.”

            “I don’t know if I look beautiful, but if you say so.” Nick laughed. Margaux was released and turned to face Peter, whose arms were crossed and wore a look of extreme malice on his face.

            “Look what the cat dragged in.” Peter spat.

            “Yes, well, unlike you, I’m actually wanted here more often than I actually am.” she snapped back. Peter smiled, but it looked painful.

            “Still at their best, I see.” Lee remarked as he leaned on the counter next to Nick.

            “Indeed. Though you would think that after eight years, it would get old.”

            “Obviously, not quite yet.” Lee shrugged. Nick stood up and took Margaux by the shoulder.

            “Do you have anything else you need to bring in?”

            “No, I think this is it. But you can help me arrange this on the counter, how about that?” Margaux smiled. Nick consented to this and they began taking plastic wrap off of the tops of the trays. Peter was still glaring rather maliciously at Margaux, so Lee decided to send him to the store to pick up some bottles of cider. Peter protested, saying they already had six bottles in the fridge, but Lee insisted that he go get more.

            “I’ll let you take my car.”

            “It’s no fun to take your car if you let me take your car.”

            “Oh is that how that works? Then, you can’t take my car.”

            “Too late. You can’t retract your offer once you put it on the table. I’ll just take mine.”

            “Okay, but you can’t say I didn’t not offer.”

            “Lee, that’s a double negative. Wouldn’t it be more correct to say ‘You could say I didn’t offer you my car’?” Margaux said, looking up from arranging cookies.

            “You know, when I was your age Margaux, I talked just the way you are now talking.”

            “If only I had known you, Pericles, when you were at your best.” Margaux replied, and went back to arranging cookies. Peter grabbed Lee’s keys and fuming, stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Marguax smiled.

            “I think I’ll put on that vinyl you gave me. How does that sound?”

            “Excellent. I want to hear it.” Margaux agreed. Lee smiled as he took the plastic off of the record and sniffed it. He loved the smell of new records. He slid it out of its cover and set it gently on the player, turned it on and let it spin for a moment before he placed the needle. The most magnificent sound filled the room, jazz trumpet drifting over them as they worked. Lee loved it; in his opinion, there were few things in the world that were better than listening to good jazz. But the smell of Margaux’s food was coming in at an extremely close second. Among the dishes she had brought, there were some cookies and tarts, what looked like a pasta alfredo dish, and some exquisitely glazed chicken dish. Margaux set out plastic plates and silverware rolled in neat white napkins. She then took one of the plates and served Lee a plate of the pasta and chicken dishes. Lee helped himself to some silverware and sampled the dish.

“Oh, Margaux. This is like heaven.” Lee said between bites of chicken.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” she smiled. Another knock on the door revealed a few of Lee’s friends from shop and Scrabble club, who immediately made their way to the counter and started in on Margaux’s cookies and tarts. She managed to swat them away from consuming all of the sweets by serving them each plates of the pasta and chicken. They joined Lee at the table and then became engaged in a rather heated discussion in which he and his friends argued that it was possible for a Scrabble game to be played the same way twice. Lee was under the impression that there were infinite combinations of words that could be placed in a variety of positions on the board, but found it improbable that the same game could be duplicated. There was another knock on the door and Lee got up from the table and answered it. To his surprise, he found Hara and Jane on the other side. He gawked at them for a moment before he stepped aside and let them in. The girls immediately dove for the chicken and pasta and after they had served themselves, sat down on the couch with their plates. Lee took his plate from the table and sat in the chair opposite the girls as they ate.

            “We heard the music down the hall. It’s really nice.” Hara said after a few minutes of busy eating and awkward silence.

            “You like jazz?” Lee asked, trying to cut his chicken. His knife slipped and dropped on the floor. Laughing, he bent over and picked it up. Why was he so nervous?

            “I love jazz. It’s the best.”

            “I’ve got a lot of jazz, actually. You want to see?”

            “Sure, I’d love to see what you have.” Hara smiled. Lee felt slightly relieved. He set down his plate on the table, got up from the chair and went to a long closet bookshelf behind the record player and opened the cabinet doors with a bit of a flourish. Inside were rows and rows of vinyl albums, most of them in mint condition. Hara’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

            “Can I touch them?”

            “Sure you can.” Lee laughed. Hara moved closer, her fingers gently brushing each of the albums in turn. She pulled out a few of them and looked at the liner notes before gently putting them back in place. Lee watched her look over each of the records, her eyes lit up with excitement. She looked up at him.

            “Where did you get the one you are playing?”

            “Oh, Margaux gave it to me. She knew I was looking for it.” Lee gestured to where Margaux and Nick were working in the kitchen getting plastic champagne glasses set out to fill with sparkling cider.

            “Lee is always looking for old vinyl records. It’s his obscure hobby.” Margaux smiled. “I help him out every once in a while. By the way, did you know there was a store in that strip mall about a half mile down the road?”

            “Are you kidding? I must have driven past there millions of times and never noticed it.”

            “It’s tucked between the dollar store and the Laundromat on the west side of the shopping center.”

            “I have to check that out sometime.” Lee smiled as he took the needle off the record and gently inserted the record back into its case. Nick turned around and opened the fridge door, producing a bottle of carbonated cider. Some of the shop guys had stopped eating and were proceeding to root through Lee’s video collection and found something of interest.

            “Lee, what’s this?”

            “Well, Mark, what does it say on the tape?”

            “It says ‘Cruise 2004 – Karaoke.’”

            “Oh man, come on.”

            “What is it Lee?”

            “I went on a cruise a couple of years ago and I was in a karaoke contest.”

            “Oh reeeally? We must see this…” Mark said as he went to the VCR and turned it on. Lee sat down on the couch next to Hara and buried his face in his hands as Mark turned the TV on and started the tape. Lee looked through the gaps in his fingers.

            “The first few people are okay. I’m like the fifth one.”

            “Do tell Lee: how does one become entered in a karaoke contest?” Mark asked.

            “I was trying to escape from my sister so I hid in the karaoke lounge?”

            “Good man.” Mark said, hitting Lee on the back as he came around behind the couch. So they sat through four fairly decent singers before Lee came out. He was dressed in a plain polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals, wearing his glasses. He looked nervous as he took the microphone and the music began to play. Lee rested his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands, watching his sixteen-year-old self sing “I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.” It was all very odd to him.

            “Wise men say, ‘Only fools rush in.’ But I can’t help falling in love with you.” Lee crooned on the tape. Yes, that was definitely him. He felt Hara hit him on the arm and he rocked to the side.

            “I didn’t know you wore glasses.” she remarked.

            “Yeah, I do. Particularly when my contacts are bothering me. It happens a lot, but I’m not quite used to them yet.”

            “How long have you had them?”

            “About a year now, actually.”

            “Lee, I wanna have your baby!!!” someone yelled from behind him and Hara laughed next to him. Everyone was clearly enjoying themselves watching him, so why ruin the moment. The audience on the tape cheered loudly as he finished, but it was nothing compared to the applause he was receiving from his friends.

            “Yes, that’s the Gomer Pyle we all know and love.” Mark said. There was some laughter from behind the couch. Lee stopped the tape, rewound it, and put it back in the case. Setting it on top of the TV, he took a bow in front of everyone to more applause which died down after a few minutes.

            “Let’s say we have a drink and play a game?” Nick asked as he poured the cider into the plastic champagne glasses. Margaux had dutifully swept up all of the empty plates and disposed of them in the trash and was now working on covering the rest of the food and transferring it into the fridge.

            “I’ll get the board.” Lee said, disappearing toward the other room. Hara looked around to see another game set out on a TV tray to the right of the couch.

            “We can’t use that set?” she asked, pointing to it. Lee’s Scrabble friends had clustered around it and appeared to be discussing Lee’s work.

            “Nah,” Nick laughed, handing her a drink. “That is the board at which Lee sits every night and diligently works out every possible combination of letters that you can draw from the bag, the words you can make from those letters, and how much those words would score in various positions on the board.” Hara’s eyes widened.

            “He’s pretty dedicated.” Nick said, sipping at his cider. “That is his other obscure hobby.”

            “What is?” Lee asked, appearing with another Scrabble set which he began to spread out on the table.

            “Scrabble.” Margaux said, taking a seat next to Nick. Lee grinned as he passed out the letter trays.

            “If you say so.”

            “I do say so.”

            “Okay then. Whoever gets the letter closest to ‘A’ starts first.” Lee said picking a letter out of the bag. He produced a ‘G’ out of the bag and passed the bag to Hara, who pulled out an ‘H.’ Nick got an ‘R,’ Margaux a ‘K,’ and Jane an ‘N.’

            “Looks like I’m going first,” Lee said as all of the letters were returned to the bag. “Okay, I vote we play with all rules plus the dirty word rule.”

            “The dirty word rule?” Jane asked, picking letters out of the bag and placing them on her tray.

            “If a word is dirty or offensive, it counts for double whatever it is already worth.”

            “Ah, I see. Sounds good to me.” Jane said arranging her letters.

            “Everyone else okay with that?”

            “You seriously play like that?” Hara asked, picking her letters out of the bag.

            “We rarely spell dirty words, but it’s there just in case.” Lee said.

            “Indeed,” Margaux laughed. “Does anyone else want something to snack on while we play?” she asked, getting up from the couch.

            “Oh, yes please. Bring the chips and salsa.” Nick said.

            “You brought me salsa?” Lee asked. “You are too good to me, Margaux.”

            “I do what I can, anyway.”

            “You spoil him far more than you spoil me.” Nick said.

            “It’s his birthday.”

            “Even when it’s not his birthday, you still spoil him.”

            “It’s true, Margaux. You spoil me.” Lee said as she set a bowl of chips and a small bowl of salsa in front of them. However, Lee didn’t get to the salsa first; Hara did. Lee gawked at her. She froze with a chip halfway to her mouth and grinned at him.

            “What?”

            “You like salsa?”

            “I love salsa.” Hara said, putting the chip in her mouth. Lee smiled at her, his mouth still hanging open in surprise.

            “Will you quit looking at me like that?” Hara asked, downing her third chip.

            “I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who likes salsa as much as I do.”

            “Really? And just how much do you like salsa?” she asked. Lee went to the counter, unscrewed the top of the salsa jar poured a small amount into a champagne glass and drank it. Hara smiled and raised her eyebrows. Nick laughed and got up from the couch.

            “I just had a fabulous idea: Hot Sauce Contest.”

            “You have got to be kidding me.” Lee said.

            “Nope, not.” Nick said, fishing a bottle of Tabasco sauce out of the fridge. “Okay, guys. Gather around. Tabasco eating contest. Lee, where are the shot glasses?”

            “They’re in the top cupboard next to the pantry.” Lee sighed. Nick looted through the cupboards until he produced seven shot glasses. He brought them over to the coffee table, which Lee had cleared of chips, salsa, and the Scrabble board. Nick set a shot glass down in front of each of the contestants: Lee, Hara, Mark, Ryan, George, Charlie, and Jane. He carefully filled each of the shot glasses half full of hot sauce. Each of the contestants took the first shot slowly as Nick observed. All of them managed to get it down with out incident. Nick filled the glasses again and they took a second shot. Not until they got to the third shot did Charlie and Ryan begin to sweat profusely and declared themselves out of the contest. Margaux got up and supplied them with ice cream to cool their mouths off. On the fifth shot, George and Mark joined the ice cream party in the kitchen. Lee, Hara and Jane still remained. Jane was gone after about the tenth shot and eagerly welcomed the cool ice cream on her burned tongue. Lee stared Hara down, grinning.

            “May the best man win.” he said. 

            “Well spoken.” Hara grinned back. They took another shot.

            “You two are nuts.” Margaux said, serving herself some ice cream.

            “We just like hot sauce, that’s all.”

            “Speaking of nuts,” Nick interrupted. “Where is Peter?” They looked around the room to no avail.

            “I sent him out, like, what almost two hours ago. How long does it take to get a couple more bottles of cider?”

            “You sent him out by himself to get cider?” Nick asked, filling the shot glasses again.

            “You heard me, you were standing right there.” Lee said, taking his shot.

            “What’s the big deal?” Hara asked, taking her shot.

            “Well,” Nick said, refilling the glasses. “Here’s the thing: Peter for some reasons unknown to anyone and perhaps even God, doesn’t favor Margaux.”

            “And I return the loathing.” Margaux put in, taking a bite of her ice cream.

            “So,” Nick continued. “When Margaux comes, he, well, let’s say, changes.”

            “He’s a lot less charming than he is already.” Lee said after taking his shot.

            “And because of that you can’t send him to get cider by himself?” Jane asked.

            “Considering it’s his booze, yes.” Nick said, refilling the shot glasses again. Margaux rolled her eyes and took another bite of her ice cream.

            “Sounds charming. Lee, are you okay?” Hara asked. Lee took his shot and looked at her.

            “Yeah, why?”

            “Because you are sweating pretty profusely.”

            “Nope, never been better.” he swallowed. At this moment, the door swung open and Peter stood leaning in the doorway, a bottle of cider in his hand. He looked slightly ragged and bleary eyed.

            “I hope you didn’t spill in my car.” Lee said mildly. Peter ignored this comment and shuffled into the room, stopping at the counter to peer at Margaux. After observing her for a moment, her leaned over the counter and stole her ice cream.

            “Don’t want you to lose your girly figure. The minute that goes, Nick is out of there.” He slurred. Margaux reached back across the counter, took back her ice cream, set it on the counter, and hit him as hard as she could.

            “You sir, are drunk.”

            “Madam, tomorrow I shall be sober, but you will still be ugly.” Peter smiled. He wound his way around the couch and the other furniture and could be heard moments later collapsing on his bed. Margaux watched him go and then when she was sure he was out of the room, went back to her ice cream. Lee stared after Peter. He had never been this bad before, but this was hardly the time to address it. He would be hung over from the sugar high in the morning. That was punishment enough, he mused as he took another shot of hot sauce. Hara recovered from her shock and took hers. They were up to twenty shots; one of them had to cave soon. Twenty-one down. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Then twenty-four and twenty-five. Lee was pretty sure his tongue was going to fall off, if it wasn’t already burned off. Hara wasn’t even breaking a sweat, which was rather unnerving. They both got to the thirtieth shot before Lee gave up. He managed to get the shot down, but immediately afterwards, stole Mark’s ice cream from him and tried to get some of the feeling back in his tongue. Hara laughed.

            “I declare the winner, Hara!” Nick announced, laughing. Lee, spoon in one hand, gave her a thumbs up with the other.

            “So the best man won?” she asked, taking a bowl of ice cream Margaux had served her.

            “Louis,” Lee said taking the spoon off of his tongue. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” He toasted her with his spoon and put it back on his tongue.

 

            Peter woke up he didn’t even know how many hours later to a nasty headache and the smell of breakfast wafting in through the open door of his room. He moved his head over just enough so that he could make out his alarm clock sitting on the bookshelf across the room. Its red digital numbers told him it was almost ten thirty. He wondered briefly what he had been doing last night that had given him such a fantastic headache, but then remembered that they had thrown Lee a birthday party and chalked it up to too much cider. He closed his eyes, rolled back over, groaned, and pushed himself up off of the bed enough to turn over off of his stomach and sit on the side of the bed. Even though he had tried to do this as slowly as possible, his head was still spinning. Putting one hand on his throbbing head, he used the other to give him a boost off the bed, at which point he shuffled to the door and made his way to the kitchen. Maybe if he ate something, his head would stop spinning.

            “That smells good.” Peter said flopping into a chair at the table. He hadn’t bothered to look and see who was cooking, he had just assumed it was Lee or Nick, but was still surprised when a female voice answered him.

            “I’m glad you think so.”

Peter sat up, still slightly dazed and when his vision came back into focus, Margaux was handing him a plate of toast, eggs, sausage, and potatoes and a cup of coffee. He glared at her, but took the plate anyway. He wasn’t about to refuse free food, and as much as he hated Margaux, her cooking was absolutely fabulous.

            “You look like s**t.” Lee said, coming out of the bathroom.

            “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Peter said rubbing his temples.

            “You really should think about laying off the sugar, buddy.”

            “I know. Shut up.” He took a bite of eggs and then took a sip of the coffee. Peter then carefully cut up his sausage and ate that, taking sips of coffee in between bites. Margaux set a plate down in front of Lee, who thanked her and started on his own plate. Nick appeared a few minutes later and joined Lee and Peter at the table. Margaux brought coffee of which Lee and Nick took full advantage. Peter took another sip and set it down on the table.

            “This is good, honey.” Nick said.

            “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” Margaux smiled. Peter then had a thought.

            “Nick, lemme taste your coffee.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I like tasting other people’s coffee. Fork it over.” Nick was going to protest, but Peter had snagged away his cup and was taking a long drink of his coffee. He stopped and sampled his own again. Peter looked up at Margaux.

            “Did you do something to my coffee?”

            “No.”

            “Of course you did.”

            “Why would I make your coffee any different from Lee and Nick’s coffee?”

            “How do I know you didn’t put cyanide in it?”

            “Peter, believe me. If I was your girlfriend, I would poison your coffee.”

            “If I were your boyfriend, I would drink it.”

            “Good to know.” Margaux said, serving Nick his plate of breakfast. Needless to say, though his coffee was supposedly no different from Lee or Nick’s, he didn’t drink any of the rest of his cup, just to be safe. He stabbed at his eggs murderously as if this would help get some of his anger at Margaux’s presence out of his system. True, he never really tried to be nice to her, but in his mind, she hadn’t been very nice to him either…mostly.

            “Yeah, you are definitely hung over.” Lee said after a few minutes of watching Peter.

            “He always acts this decrepit. How can you tell?” Margaux inquired mildly. Peter stabbed at his eggs again, missed, and scraped the plate, sending some of its contents flying. Lee bit his lip as he watched Peter pick up the spilled contents and put them back on his plate. No one said anything and they all returned to their meals. There was a long awkward silence. Peter picked at the remainder of the food on his plate, but did not eat any more of it. After spending a few minutes playing with his food, he decided he had lost his appetite. He got up from the table, took his plate to the sink, and wandered back into his room.

            “You’re welcome for breakfast.” Margaux called.

            “F**k off.” Peter said slamming his door. He flopped down on his bed and closed his eyes, hoping that if he relaxed without her in the picture, maybe his head would stop pounding.

Reviews

[Beth Elaina]

Lovely work as usual, my dear. Hilarious. Your descriptions of Margaux's food was making me hungry! Keep up your witty dialogue and intriguing story, my friend. :)

[Beth Holian]

I like that quote too. It's Winston Churchill talking to I believe Lady Astor...It fits pretty well in relation to how Peter and Margaux view each other. :)

[Harish Jackson]

"Madam, tomorrow I shall be sober, but you will still be ugly"--Peter

Very, very good, as usual. I'm sorry I took so long to get around to it; I've been so incredibly busy, it's not even funny. Although I suppose it wouldn't be funny even if I was only a little busy...however DID that saying become so well used? It doesn't even make sense...