hand casually on Mitchell’s leg. Wesley was standing by the door, talking to Susan; her head was down, shaking in a negative, while Wesley said something low and hurried. Dulac had cornered Darnell, a big man in overalls and a Carhartt tee, and was peppering the bigger man’s face with kisses. Darnell was fire-engine red and grinning. Somers stood in a loose triangle with Noah and Rebeca, all three of them laughing. And then another passel of kids stampeded through the living room, and Hazard smiled in spite of himself; his daughter, Evie, three years old, was hot on the tail of Robbie, almost eleven, who was shrieking and pretending to let her catch up.
“Dee,” Evie screamed as she ran past. “Robbie spank me!”
“Bet you can’t spank me,” Robbie shouted, and then the chase moved on, with Evie squealing with delight as her chubby little legs carried her after her intended victim.
“You ask them,” Darnell said, the quiet tone drawing Hazard’s attention.
“No, you,” Dulac said.
“You’re their friend.”
“So are you.” Dulac grinned, shifting his constellations of freckles, and added, “And they like you better.”
“It was your idea.”
“Fine,” Dulac said, “but you owe me. Next time we’re—” Darnell got a hand over his mouth, muffling the words; when he pulled away, Dulac was still saying, “—and then I get to—” before Darnell got his hand back into place.
“Never mind,” Darnell said, pecking Dulac on the cheek once. “I’ll ask them. Hi, um. Excuse me, everyone. Really quick.” The Vandal hordes had moved to the basement, and the adults turned toward Dulac and Darnell. If possible, Darnell got even redder, and he dry washed his hands once before continuing. “The thing is, the really great thing is, well, we’ve been talking a lot, and we’ve been, you know, building a relationship, and I think you’ve all seen how, if you think about it, Gray and I are really making important steps towards the future, and . . .” The words dried up; he wrung his hands again.
“Uh, Gray,” Somers said. “What’s going on?”
“You are not getting married,” Hazard said. “You can get married one year after us.”
“What?” Dulac said. “Dude, no. Gross. We’re not getting married. We’re moving in together. We bought a house.” Then Dulac flushed, just a dusting of pink behind the freckles. “It’s just down the street, actually.”
“No,” Hazard said.
“That’s great,” Somers said. “Congratulations.”
“Sell it,” Hazard said.
Somers shot him a look.
“Congratulations,” Noah said, lifting his beer in a toast.
“Congratulations,” Rebeca echoed.
“You’re talking about the Martinez’s house,” Hazard said. “It’s got termites. Sell it. Asbestos too. You can’t live there.”
“Don’t worry, Emery,” Darnell said. “We had it inspected. Termites are taken care of, and the asbestos was actually really easy to remove. It’s totally safe.”
“Property crime,” Hazard said. “You really have to think about the risk of property crime.”
Somehow, Somers had worked his way over and now elbowed Hazard. “Enough,” he muttered. Then, to Dulac and Darnell, he said, “Congratulations, guys. That’s really exciting.”
“And, since you’re all our friends,” Dulac said, slumping against Darnell now, his head on Darnell’s shoulder, “we expect you to show up and help us move.”
Hazard was already constructing a plan: somehow he had to make sure the moving truck—fully insured, of course—was destroyed along with all of Dulac and Darnell’s worldly possessions, thus ensuring they didn’t move onto the same street as Hazard and Somers. Maybe gasoline and a match, maybe just driving it into the river. But before he could volunteer to drive the moving truck, a voice broke through his thoughts.
“This is just perfect.” It was Susan’s voice, and when Hazard glanced back, he saw the tall, plain-faced woman yank open the door. She stormed out, leaving Wesley behind. Wesley stood with his shoulders slumped, hands on his hips, staring at the ground. After a moment, he looked up; his face was almost as red as his ginger quiff.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you all have a good night; Rebeca, Noah, thank you again.” He fumbled with the door, added another, “Sorry,” over his shoulder, and slunk out of the house.
“What happened there?” Somers said.
“Susan was upset and ran off. Wesley went after her.”
“Oh, somehow I missed that. Thanks.”
“Really, John? Because you were looking right at—oh. Don’t do that.”
Somers smiled at him.
“It’s not cute.”
Somers shrugged.
“Ask better questions.”
Somers kissed him on the cheek.
Scrubbing at his cheek, Hazard growled, “Specificity is the key to critical thinking.”