“What’s the thing you most want to do to him?” she says, pacing.
There isn’t just a Him. There’s a group, a menacing Them.
“Let’s start with the most outlandish, work our way toward the most wussy. And we’ll come up with a compromise. If we like two revenges, we can combine them. One of them has to be horrid though. That’s the rules.” Her arms swing and arc violently like an angry puppeteer’s.
“Who’s ‘him?’” Beddy says.
“Todd,” Di ventures, looking over to Connie for confirmation.
“Goddamnit, Di,” Connie says, “get on board with the whole Fuckface thing. His name is Fuckface. And I’d like to aerate his face.” She looks over at Beddy through her chipped rhinestone sunglasses. “How can you stand how bright it is in here? Jesus Christ.” She cradles her forehead.
“You keep pinning this on only Todd,” Beddy says.
“Fuckface, babe. Practice saying it.”
“Duffy was the one who called.”
“Duffy’s just the messenger boy. That little smegma.”
Even when she is wrong, Connie speaks with withering authority on everything. Beddy is not convinced. She has history on her side, and to her, Todd seemed too disconnected from everything to be behind it all. He didn’t even show up to Formal. Duffy had to pretend he was there. That has to mean something.
“We grabbed some cranberry orange muffins on the way over here from Menfi’s,” Di says. She shakes the bag in her hand. “You’re welcome to one.” She sets it on the counter.
“You eat already?” Connie says, keeping with Di’s new subject thread.
“Yes,” Beddy said.
“Who you cooking for, then?”
Shit! Beddy runs over to the stove, shuts it off quickly. The butter is a brackish brown.
“I wasn’t cooking for anyone.”
“Then what’s the pan for?” Di says.
“It’s for me,” Void says, floating in from the other room.
Beddy’s face gets hot as her spine cools.
“Um. Well. You guys, actually.”
“Look who’s a sweetheart,” Connie says. “After last night, I could use something tall, dark, and greasy.” She pulls a stool up to the kitchen counter and sits. “And coffee. Fuck. Definitely coffee.”
“Why didn’t you get some when we were at Menfi’s?”
“Because they serve trough water at ritzy prices. Fuck that noise.”
She picks a rhinestone from her glasses distastefully and flicks it at Di.
“I’ll put some on,” Beddy says.
“This place smells amazing, by the way,” Connie says. “To high heaven of bacon. Please tell me you made some and it’s sitting somewhere within reach and I can just put it in my mouth right now.”
“No, but I have more.”
Di sits next to Connie in an identical stool. Beddy retrieves ingredients from the fridge.
“Bacon’s a cure-all,” Connie says. “It’s a hangover remedy, a sandwich enhancer, and a mood booster. Facts.”
“Bed, I’ll have some, too. But only if there’s enough.”
Beddy nods, slicing mushrooms.
“Speaking of bacon, Kelsey was quite the slaughter, apparently.”
The knife skitters over the cap of one mushroom and clatters onto the cutting board. Void laughs. Beddy checks her shaking hands for nicks. She is unscathed.
“Connie,” Di admonishes.
Connie puts her finger to her lips and hisses “Sshhh” right up against Di’s face. “Anyways, Ginny Chesh texted me a bit ago and said she was there, at the scene, and, AND that girl might not walk again.”