“Keep an eye on this while I go get oil for the grill.”
Sloan watched the exchange through the open kitchen window, aware of Michelle behind her removing a platter of meat patties from the refrigerator. Michelle put the patties on the counter, picked up a knife and cutting board, and reached for an onion.
On the patio outside, Iris appeared as Austin approached the kitchen door. She reached out, slung an arm across his shoulders, and hung on to him, her weight dragging him down. He struggled for balance and when he to tried to shrug her off, she let out a long wordless note of complaint.
Annoyed, he said, “Get off me. What’s the matter with you?”
“Come on, Austin. How come you’re never nice to me?”
“Has it sunk into that pea-sized brain of yours that my girlfriend is here?”
“Pooh on Michelle. Don’t you think I’m cute?”
“Like a tarantula. You give me the creeps.”
She said, “Well, I’d do anything for you.”
“I’ll bet,” he said and pushed her away.
“I’m serious.”
As Iris ambled toward the grill, she stumbled and grabbed a lawn chair, then fell into it, laughing at herself. “I am so shit-faced.”
Troy looked at her with concern. “Chill out. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
She put her hand over her eyes. “Who asked you?”
“I’m offering you a piece of advice. Austin is bad news for someone as fucked up as you. Your reputation’s in the toilet as it is.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right. We’ve seen ample evidence of that. You think he won’t take advantage?”
“I’m in love with him.”
“You are not.”
“I am.”
“Well, keep it to yourself. If he finds out, he’ll rope you into something good for him and not so good for you.”
“Shows what you know.”
Sloan listened to the exchange with a sense of doom. Iris was reckless and out of control. One day it was all going to catch up with her. She tore open a package of hamburger buns and then opened the package of paper plates. She counted out a dozen and placed them on the counter, along with a stack of paper napkins. Austin crossed to the stove, opened the cabinet above it, and grabbed a container of olive oil.
“How’re you doing?” he asked. “You need anything?”
“I’m good. You have a serving spoon for the potato salad?”
“I’ll find you one.” He disappeared into the walk-in pantry.
Iris wandered in, clearly unsteady on her feet. She leaned on the kitchen table and eased herself carefully into a wooden chair. “Where’d he go?”
“Who?”
“Austin.”
“He’s busy. He’s about to cook the burgers,” Sloan said irritably. Given her mother’s constant state of inebriation, she had no patience for drunks.
“I knew that.”
Fritz appeared from the living room. “Hey, look what I found.”
In his right hand, he held a small-frame automatic pistol.
Michelle glanced at him with alarm. “Shit. Where did that come from?”
“It was in the drawer. Man, this is one gnarly weapon. What is this, a Smith and Wesson?”
Austin emerged from the pantry with a fistful of serving utensils. “No, you moron. That’s my dad’s Astra Constable. We sit out here and target-shoot, picking off squirrels.”
Stringer said, “The neighbors don’t complain?”
“The gun club’s a mile down the road. People fire off guns all the time.”
Stringer reached for the gun while Fritz pretended to sight down the barrel. “Hey, put that thing down. Are you nuts?”
Fritz held it up and away, trying to retain control.
Austin looked at the two of them. “Cool it, Stringer. It’s not loaded. Here. Gimme that thing.” Fritz surrendered the Astra to Austin, who popped out the magazine and held it up as though performing a magic trick.
Fritz said, “Now can I see it?”
“I don’t know, Fritz. You think you can handle it?”
“Is there a trick?”
“Yes, asshole. You have to take off the safety. Don’t you watch cop shows? And quit waving that thing around or you’ll shoot yourself in the foot. Put it back in the drawer before I shoot you myself.”
Fritz returned to the living room, pretending to fire the weapon while he made mouth noises. He opened the end table drawer and put the gun back where it had been.
There was an uptick of laughter from the patio, where the Beach Boys sang, “Fun, fun, fun till her daddy takes her T-Bird awa-hay.”
Poppy scooted in, talking over her shoulder. “Thanks a bunch, guys. I love you too.”
She caught sight of Austin, who handed her a cup of green punch. She seemed to focus in on him. “So what’s the story on the video?”
Austin’s expression became watchful, like a fox in the presence of a rabbit. Sloan froze where she stood. Blake and Roland came in from the patio, roughhousing, unaware of the stillness that had suddenly settled over the room. Troy, entering the back door, caught the dead quiet and stopped in his tracks.
Austin said, “What video are you referring to?”
Poppy said, “The one half the kids in class are buzzing about. A smutty sex tape.”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Sloan?”
“I did. She hasn’t seen it yet.”
He smiled. “Well, that’s bullshit. Of course she has. We’re currently in negotiations to return it to its rightful owner.”
“Which is who?”
“Me,” Austin said. “The project was my idea.”
“My equipment,” Fritz hollered from the living room. “I want credit.”
“Shut up, Fritz. You’re an idiot.”
Poppy’s smile faltered. “What’s it about?”
Austin said, “The film? It’s a cooking show using Crisco, which is the new hot ingredient.”
Blake and Roland burst out laughing and Fritz’s high-pitched chortle sounded from the living room.
Poppy was still smiling, but it was clear she was desperately unsure of herself. “Why are you all cracking up? Come on, fellas. Let me in on the joke.”
Roland said, “You’re too uptight.”
“I am not.”
Austin said, “Roland doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He hasn’t seen it, either, so don’t feel bad. The title is ‘Pool Cue: A Love Story.’ It’s the Troy and Iris Show.”
Iris did a seated bump-and-grind and nearly tumbled out of her chair.
Troy spoke up from behind Poppy. “Why don’t you drop it?”
She turned, blinking rapidly, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Drop what?”
“You know what.”
“What’s Austin talking about, ‘The Troy and Iris Show’? I want to know what you did.”
“Would you just quit it with the third degree? I’m not accountable to you.”
“I never said you were. I asked about the tape.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you told me you loved me. You gave me your ring.”
Austin snorted. “Shit, Poppy. You sound like the lyrics to a bad song.”
“He did.”
“Well, give the damn ring back. Obviously, Troy doesn’t care enough to tell you the truth. You want me to ‘share’ or would you rather hear it from him?”
“Hear what?”
Troy made a low moaning sound and banged his head against the wall. He looked to Sloan for relief, but she couldn’t maintain the eye contact.