Michelle was annoyed, but she seemed resigned. “Shit. Let me get my purse. I left it in Stringer’s van.”
Austin lifted the plastic bag, which was bulging with trash. He tied the plastic strands in a knot and put the bag by the back door. He turned his attention to the kitchen counter, which was littered with condiments. He replaced the cap on the ketchup, recapped the mustard, and placed both in the refrigerator.
Troy came into the kitchen. He’d changed from his bathing suit into jeans and a white T-shirt. “Where’s Michelle off to?”
“She left her bag in Stringer’s van. She’s coming back.”
“Man, I don’t think so. She got in the van and they all took off.”
“Stringer did?”
“Right. Him, Betsy, Patti, and Roland Berg. They couldn’t wait to get out of here. Rats deserting a sinking ship. They probably thought you were going to ask them to pitch in for the keg.”
“What about Blake?”
“Him, too. I saw him scoot over to make room so Michelle could crawl in the back.”
“Damn it! She said she’d help.”
Troy said, “Apparently not, pal. I guess she didn’t want to get into an argument.”
Fritz wandered into the kitchen, dressed except for his feet, which were bare. “Anybody seen my shoes?”
“In your hand,” Austin said.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
“You know what? This is the last of my parties you’re invited to. Go hang out with those bullshit sophomore friends of yours.”
Sloan, coming into the kitchen from the patio, caught this exchange. She was still in her bikini and flip-flops and she carried a stack of empty punch glasses that she tossed in the trash. “Why are you on his ass? He didn’t do anything.”
“He doesn’t have to do anything. He gets on my nerves.”
“Give him a break. You don’t have to put him down in front of everyone.”
“What’s your problem?”
“I’m just tired of your being such a shit to everyone.”
“What, now you’re the champion of the underdog? Fritz can look after himself. He doesn’t need you coming to his rescue.”
“Don’t turn this into a pissing contest, Austin. I’m asking you to get off his case. And mine, too, while you’re at it.”
“And I’m asking you to shut your big mother and butt out.”
Sloan suddenly laughed. “Oh my god, did you hear what you just said. You said shut your ‘big mother’ instead of shut your big mouth. Talk about a Freudian slip. That’s hysterical.”
“Ha . . . ha . . . ha,” Austin said, giving each word emphasis. “And by the way, where’s the tape? The deal was you’d bring it with you.”
“I forgot.”
“I’m tired of talking about this. Why don’t you go put on some clothes, Miss Porky Pig. I can’t believe you’d wear that bikini and leave all your fat hanging out. It’s obscene.”
Troy said, “Hey!”
Sloan’s smile died. “That was in bad taste, even for you.”
“Oh, lighten up. Can’t you take a joke?”
Sloan said, “I’d tread easy if I were you. Keep in mind the fact that you want something from me. I don’t want anything from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, oops, I told a fib. I don’t have the tape at my house. I left it somewhere else. I’ll give it to you as soon as I get it back.”
“And when would that be?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, who has it? You have no business giving it to anyone else.”
“But I did.”
“What are you trying to pull?”
“I’m training you to be nice. I know it’s an alien concept, but I’m sure you can learn. The deal was treat me nice or no tape.”
“The deal was no more shunning.”
“No, Austin. That was your claim. You called off the shunning voluntarily. You said it was a done deal. You said if I gave you the tape, we’d be square.”
“Right.”
“So you didn’t say you’d go on treating me like shit. That’s not going to work.”
“You know what? Trying to control me is a bad idea.”
“Just give it some thought.”
“Give what some thought?”
“Being nice. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go put some clothes on my porky self.”
“About time, you oinker.”
Sloan left the kitchen and moved into the living room, headed for the master bedroom, where she’d left her clothes.
Austin said, “What a bitch. Did you hear that? What makes her think she can threaten us?”
“What threat? Why do you push everything to such extremes?” Bayard asked, annoyed.
Austin moved into the living room and opened the end table drawer. He took out the Astra and checked the magazine. “She still has the tape, doesn’t she? Or did she give it to you?”
“She didn’t give me anything,” Bayard said. “What are you so pissed off about?”
“Don’t you get it? She won’t cooperate unless I eat shit.”
Troy said, “She asked you to be nice. Why is that so hard?”
“Listen, you halfwit. She’s gaming us and I won’t put up with that. Time to put the pressure on. She wants to go home, she’ll have to hand over the tape or it’s a no-go.”
“She can’t hand it over if she doesn’t have it,” Troy said.
Austin closed his eyes, his patience sorely tried. “I guess I didn’t make it clear. No more stalling. She should have brought it with her. I told you to make sure she had it, didn’t I?”
“I asked her when she first got in the truck and she told me she didn’t have it. What was I supposed to do, make her get out and walk? You didn’t say anything about forcing her to do anything.”
Austin said, “You should have insisted. You should have made it clear we meant business.”
“What are you talking about? Even if I’d insisted, she could have refused. I have no control over her.”
“You know something, Troy? You’re weak. I should have known better than to trust you with this.”
“Fine. I’m weak. Now what?”
“Now I’ll take care of it.”
Bayard said, “Why don’t you drop it, Austin? For god’s sake.”
Austin stared at Bayard and slowly lifted one finger in the air. “One phone call.”
Bayard dropped his gaze. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? I’m telling you what I’ll do if you cross me.”
“Fine. Have it your way,” Bayard said darkly.
“My plan exactly. We take her up the mountain and keep her there until she figures out we’re serious.” He found the extra magazine and slid it into his jeans pocket.
Bayard looked over at Iris, who rose from the couch and walked hurriedly toward the master bathroom, her fingers pressed to her lips. He shook his head and then shifted his attention to the handgun. “What’s that for?”
“Insurance.”
Troy said, “No, man. I’m not doing this. I’m outta here.”
“What about you, Fritz? Are you bailing on me, too?”
“No, I’m in. I mean, I don’t want to hurt anyone . . .”
“‘I don’t want to hurt anyone,’” Austin said in a mewling tone. “You know your problem, Fritz? You’re a fucking faggot.”
“I’m not.”
“Then prove it. Take this and shut your trap.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t know what to do with it.”