Page 58 of Smooth Sailing

She told him where he could find a grocery store. Pete told him he’d informed Eight they were in charge of bringing beer. Hugger took off and came back to a dining room table set for dinner. Diana and Suzette were in the kitchen doing shit. And Eight, Muzz, Driver and Pete were lounging in the living room, drinking beer and rapping.

“Awesome!” Diana exclaimed in his direction, coming right to the bags he put on the counter. “Okay, dinner in about twenty,” she announced to the room while digging stuff out of the bags.

Hugger glanced at Suzette, who appeared to be ignoring the men in the living room while she opened cans of refried beans, but at least she was out among them.

Hugger got a beer, hit the living room, and in twenty minutes they were all around Diana’s table, which had make-your-own tacos paraphernalia spread over it: meat, lettuce, diced tomatoes and onions, cheese, salsa, as well as Spanish rice, refried beans and some corn dish Diana called elote that was ridiculous, it was so good.

She put Pete at the head of the table and sandwiched Suzette in between Pete and herself, a cocoon of safe and familiar for Suzette to be in while she was with the rest of them.

Muzz was on Pete’s other side, and Hugger took the chair next to him so he could be opposite Diana. Eight sat next to Diana, Driver next to Hugger.

Through dinner, Suzette was silent and only acknowledged Pete and Diana, but again, she was there. She was also eating. Both good things.

The rest was just what it always had been since Hugger put himself forward to Chaos.

A lot of giving shit, taking it, telling stories, laughing, talking and bullshitting.

Diana fit right in.

“Serious? You lived in England?” Driver asked Diana when the food was all but decimated and they were kicked back, shooting the shit.

She nodded. “For six months. I scored a primo internship at the British Museum. It was totally rad.”

“Food suck there like everyone says?” Eight asked.

“No freaking way,” Diana answered. “One word: custard. Three words: bangers and mash. Two words: English breakfast. Um, let me count…four words: steak and kidney pie. I could go on. Just their cheese is orgasmic. Don’t get me started on their ice cream. Dairy products on the whole give life new meaning. And I dream of their bacon.”

“No shit?” Eight said.

“None at all,” she replied.

“What’s different about their bacon?” Driver asked.

“More meat, less fat, more flavor,” she told him. “I don’t know how they do that, because the flavor’s in the fat. But they do it. It’s like magic.”

This made the men chuckle.

All but Hugger, who simultaneously wanted to taste English bacon and watch Diana eating it.

“You go anywhere else when you were over there?” Muzzle asked.

She shook her head but said, “I did a little traveling around England. Their train system makes it easy. We should resurrect that here. It’s almost zero hassle and you can get practically anywhere. And I got a weekend in Paris, also by taking the train.” She shrugged. “I wished I could do more, but I didn’t have the time or money.”

“You’ll get back,” Big Petey assured.

She smiled at him. “I hope so.”

In the middle of her saying that, the entire table tensed, because there was a hammering at the door.

The men looked among each other, but it was Hugger who stood.

“You got neighbors who would pound on your door like that?” he asked Diana as he made his way there.

She opened her mouth to speak when they heard a male voice shout from the hall, “Diana Elizabeth Armitage, open this door!”

Diana’s eyes got big as her mouth breathed, “Holy crap. That’s Larry.”

“Larry! Calm down!” a female’s voice could now be heard through the door.

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