Page 129 of Slumming It
I spoke up. "Does anyone want lemonade?"
They both turned to look at me. It was Slade who asked, "Is it fresh squeezed?"
"Um…no?"
Slade gave me a funny look. "What's with the question mark? Like, what, you don't know?"
I didn't, actually – but only because I wasn't quite sure what he meant. "That depends. Does it count if it's in a carton, but not from concentrate?"
His eyebrows lifted. "Did you squeeze any actual lemons?"
"No."
"Then it's not fresh squeezed."
Reese spoke up. "She's not your damned servant. Squeeze your own fucking lemons."
Slade looked to me and asked, "So you got any?"
I stared from the recliner. "Any what? Lemons?"
He hitched a thumb toward the window. "Unless you make lemonade from those pumpkins out back."
Next to him, Reese muttered, "Oh for fuck's sake."
This had been going on for way too long, with Slade getting increasingly impatient and Reese getting increasingly hostile. As for myself, I was feeling increasingly awkward even though Vivian wasn't even late.
To Slade I said, "Youdidsay six o'clock, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"So it's just past five-thirty."
He said it again. "Yeah, so?"
If I were feeling like a smart-ass, I might've told him that I'd heard him the first time, but the last thing I wanted now was to cause more tension in such a tiny space. So instead, I said, "She still has thirty minutes, and I'm not gonna rush her."
Slade's expression grew speculative. "So you wantmeto do it?"
I was horrified by the mere idea. "No."
Slade looked to Reese and said, "Looks like the job's all yours, buddy."
Reese looked to me and said, "Remember when I said he wouldn't mess with you?"
I gave a silent nod.
"Yeah, well… sorry about that."
Slade practically snorted. "Hey, it's a sign of affection."
Reese replied, "Oh, yeah? If you get any more affectionate, you're gonna get a boot up your ass."
"Good luck withthat," Slade said, glancing at Reese's feet. "You're wearing fucking sneakers."
I spoke up. "Butyou'rewearing sneakers, too." This was true and just a little surprising. Along with the sneakers, both men were wearing jeans, long-sleeve T-shirts, and black jackets, not matching, but similar in style.
When they'd walked in, both of them had shrugged out of those jackets and tossed them over the back of the sofa just like my brothers did whenevertheypopped in for a visit.
