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n flashed a badge at them； they'd not only tell him anything he wanted to hear； they'd lick his asshole clean while they did it。 Goddamn John…Wayne…loving John…Birch…worshiping good country people。
〃What are you scowling about？〃
〃Oh。〃 He looked up into Trevor's face and forgot it all。 〃Nothing。〃
Their eyes locked on each other； and for a long moment they might as well have been back in bed； tangled in the sweaty blanket； stewing in one another's juices。 Then Trevor glanced over Zach's shoulder。 〃Hey； there's Kinsey。 I bet he'd let us take a shower at his house。〃
〃Feed us too？〃
〃Maybe。〃
〃Go for it。〃
Trevor grabbed his coffeepot and Zach his fan； and they slipped through the aisles and homed in on Kinsey's tall form like two hungry cats who know which porch to go to。
Kinsey sat at his kitchen table and listened to the shower blasting away。 It had done so for thirty minutes now； and though the bathroom was way at the other end of the hall； the kitchen windows had begun to fog up。 If they went on much longer； his zucchini…mushroom lasagna would be ready to e out of the oven and he would have to eat it by himself。 The house was getting unbearably hot and muggy。
He went into the hall and switched on the air…conditioning。 From behind the bathroom door he could hear water hitting skin； the rattle of the shower curtain； a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob。 Were they making love in the steam and spray？ Were they crying in there？
He did not even try to guess where the nasty…looking cut on Zach's lip had e from； or why Trevor wasn't carrying his sketchbook。
Kinsey had been surprised when they came up to him in Potter's Store all rumpled and bright…eyed and reeking of sex； as obviously connected as if they were clutching hands。 Of all the things Kinsey might have predicted for Trevor's first week in Missing Mile； getting laid was not among them。 But he had sent Zach out there； and now here they were。 He wondered if he had averted something； or only made the house dangerous for two boys instead of one。
Kinsey hadn't been feeling very good about his own judgment since yesterday； since hearing that Rima had cracked up her car and died on the highway outside of town。 It must have happened right after she left the Sacred Yew。 If he hadn't been worrying about the stupid dinner special； if he'd taken the time to talk to the girl； to ask the right questions； or better yet； to listen 。 。 。
（〃Listen？ Ask the right questions？〃 Terry had raged at him。 〃You fuckin' hippie！ You caught that bitch with her hand in the fuckin' till。〃
〃But maybe if I'd given her the money…〃
〃THEN SHE WOULD HAVE BOUGHT MORE COKE！ Give it up； Kinsey！ Give it the fuck UP！〃）
In his heart Kinsey knew Rima had probably been a lost cause。 But her mindless； meaningless death made him wonder how far his good intentions could reach； how much he could ever do for these lost kids he wanted so much to help on their way。
Well； time would tell。 This was Kinsey's unofficial philosophy on nearly all matters that did not require his immediate attention。
He opened the oven door and poked at the lasagna with a fork。 A sullen little cloud of steam rose from its pale greenish surface。 It was still a bit wet； but by the time Trevor and Zach finished whatever they were doing in the bathroom； he thought it might be cooked through。 Kinsey sliced a loaf of whole…grain bread； spread it with butter； opened a bottle of sweet red wine； and began to brew a pot of strong coffee。
He might not be able to help them； but at least he could feed them well。
Zach stared at the huge green lump of food on his plate。 Trevor was eating automatically； his fork rising and falling； his green lump quickly disappearing； washed down with cup after cup of black coffee。 He had grown up in an orphanage； he could probably eat most anything put in front of him。
But Zach just couldn't get started。 Though he was usually disposed to like things that began with Z； he thought zucchini might be his least favorite vegetable。 It was soggy and nearly tasteless； with only a faint unpleasant flavor like chlorophyll tinged with sweat。 If dirty socks grew on a vine； Zach thought； they would taste like zucchini。
The casserole or whatever it was Kinsey had tried to make reminded him of the food in the ic Calvin and Hobbes that would jump off the plate and hop across the table or down the kid's shirt making noises like blurp and argh。 But Zach was too polite to pull a Calvin face。 Instead he poured himself another glass of wine and wished he were back in the shower with Trevor's hands reaching around to soap his back； with his open mouth sliding across Trevor's wet slippery chest。
〃Can I get you something else？〃 Kinsey asked him。
〃No； thanks。 I guess I'm just not very hungry。〃 In truth； Zach felt slightly nauseated after staring at the green lump for so long； but the wine seemed to be settling his stomach。 He caught an odd look from Trevor and remembered that asking Kinsey to feed them had been his own idea。 It was a mistake he wouldn't make again。
〃You must eat out a lot in New York；〃 said Kinsey； and Trevor shot him another look： New York？
〃I try to live cheap；〃 he told Kinsey。
〃I thought that was impossible in New York。〃
〃Rent control；〃 said Zach helplessly； with no real idea whether they had such a thing in New York City。 Trevor stared hard at him。
I'll explain later； he thought； trying to telegraph it into Trevor's head； and poured himself more wine。
No sooner had they bid Kinsey good night and walked across the overgrown yard to the car than Trevor said； 〃New York； huh？〃
Zach's head was spinning from the wine and the joint they had smoked after dinner。 He leaned against the Mustang's fender。 〃I'll tell you about it when we get home。〃
〃Tell me now。 I don't like being lied to。〃
〃I didn't lie to you。 I lied to Kinsey。〃
〃I don't like lies at all； Zach。 If that's really your name。〃
〃What？ Did I just hear that from the lips of the famous Trevor Black？〃 Trevor looked away。 〃Look； I told you I was on the run！ I can't just go around telling everyone the truth！ Now get in the car。〃
〃Can you drive？〃
〃Of course I can fucking drive。〃 Zach pushed himself off the fender and lost his balance； almost fell headlong into the grass。 Trevor caught him and he leaned into Trevor's arms； slipped his arms around Trevor's waist。 〃Don't be mad；〃 he whispered。
〃Are you okay？〃 Trevor asked。
Zach hadn't eaten anything all day； and he had drunk most of the big bottle of wine。 He imagined it sloshing around in his stomach； mingling with all the e he'd swallowed； sweet ruby red swirled with salty pearly white。 Zach thought again of the green lump of lasagna and almost lost it； but he couldn't stand for Trevor to see him puke。
〃I'm fine；〃 he said。 Muffled against the front of Trevor's shirt it came out as one slurry word。 〃I just got a little drunk。 It's nothing。〃 He felt Trevor's body stiffen； remembered that Bobby had been drunk on whiskey when he killed the family。 To Trevor； the words I'm drunk； it's nothing must sound both stupid and cruel。
Well； they'd find ways to deal with these pitfalls and land mines； even if it meant plowing straight through them。 Zach wasn't planning to go on the wagon anytime soon。
And why the hell not？ he thought。 He liked alcohol…usually…but it wasn't vital to him like pot； wasn't essential to his body chemistry。 You're not in New Orleans where drinking's de rigueur； not anymore。 Why not just forget about the stuff and make him happy？
Because I don't WANT to！！！ his mind raged in the voice of a cranky three…year…old。 I LIKE to get drunk sometimes； there's nothing wrong with that； it doesn't make me beat people or punch them or kill them！ It just makes me 。。。
What？
Well； get laid； for one。
He knew it was true； he had almost always been drunk when he went cruising in the Quarter。 It helped him gloss over all sorts of things； like the look on Eddy's face when she saw him chatting up some pretty； empty…headed creature of the night； the fact that he would just as soon spit in Death's eye as wear a rubber； the knowledge that he just didn't give a good goddamn about much of anything beyond hacking and having orgasms and watching slasher movies and thumbing his nose at the world。
Except that now he did。 And it seemed as good a time to say so as any。
But just then a vehicle swept around the corner of Kinsey's street and came screeching toward them。 A pickup or a four…wheel drive from the sound and size of it； though it was going too fast to tell。 Its occupants hung out the windows； all hairy limbs and big bullish heads with John Deere and Red Man caps wedged down firmly over the brow ridge。 〃FUCKIN' QUAAAAAARES；〃 they heard； and a fusillade of silver beer cans sailed out into the slipstream and came clattering around them in the hot； still night。 The truck was already disappearing over the next hill。
The boys had been drinking beer； Zach observed。 A fine fascist…owned beer with a bouquet hinting at toxic waste and a crisp； golden； piss…like undertone 。 。 。
He smelled the warm stale beer leaking onto the asphalt； saw a submerged cigarette butt dissolving in one of the little puddles； and lost it。 He pushed away from Trevor and sprawled headlong over the curb and vomited in Kinsey's yard。 It felt marvelous； like the release of some crushing pressure； like vile crimson poison flooding out of his system。 He felt the palms of his hands connecting with the earth； felt energy flowing up into his arms and through his body in huge； slow； steady waves。 He was plugged into the biggest damn battery of all。
When he was able to raise his head； Zach saw Trevor staring at him like some interesting but faintly repulsive bug。 Zach crawled away from his puddle of vomit and sat shakily on the curb。 He took off his spattered glasses； wiped them on the tail of his shirt； Trevor sat down next to him。
〃Do you know how many times I saw my dad get sick from drinking？〃 Trevor asked。
〃A bunch； I guess。〃
〃No。 Just once。 Sometimes I wonder what would have happened； though； if he'd had a few more shots before Momma came home that night。 What if he'd made himself sick and passed out？ What if Momma could tell somehow that he'd drugged us？〃
〃It sounds like Bobby was pretty much unstoppable。〃
〃Maybe。〃 Trevor shrugged。 〃But maybe one more shot would've knocked him out。 Maybe Momma would have taken me and Didi away。〃
〃I guess it's possible。〃 More than anything； Zach wanted Trevor to put an arm around his shoulders； wanted to lean into Trevor's solid forting warmth。 But he wasn't sure if Trevor was mad at him。 〃I used to hope the same thing when my parents would go on a binge；〃 he said。 〃I'd think； Just a couple more drinks and they'll pass out。 They'll shut up。 They won't hit me anymore。 But once they got on a tear； they usually stayed on it for a while。〃
〃And you caught the worst of it。〃
〃Yeah； unless they had something better to do。〃
〃Then how…〃 Trevor turned to Zach； spread his hands wide。 The expression on his face was half disgust； half genuine bewilderment。 〃How can you drink now？ You saw what it did to them…how can you do it too？〃
〃Simple。 It doesn't do the same things to me that it did to them。〃
〃But…〃
〃But nothing。 Remember what you said last night？ The still doesn't have a choice about making liquor； the choice is up to the person who drinks it？ Drinking didn't make my parents act like that。 They were like that。 I'm not。〃
〃So where does that leave my father？〃 Trevor's voice was quiet； but deadly。
〃Well 。 。 。〃 This was the all…important question； Zach sensed。 If he answered it wrong； he could forget about drinking around Trevor…which meant he could forget about Trevor； because he wasn't going to start letting someone else do his thinking for him。 And if he answered it too wrong； he wondered if he might see his blood decorating Trevor's knuckles again。
〃Maybe Bobby was trying to tamp down his anger；〃 he said。 〃Maybe he was trying to make himself pass out before your mom came home。〃
〃You think so？〃
He wants to believe that。 Is it cruel to encourage