Robin Wasserman: Gluttony

“Did he say nachos?” Miranda whispered, half giggling, half yawning. “Think we could find some?”

Doubtful. Harper took another look at the “town center.” Aside from the gas station, there was a small shack whose sign read only CAFÉ and… that was about it. She was used to lame small towns-being born and bred in Grace, CA, lameness capital of the world, it kind of came with the territory. But this wasn’t a town, it was a live-in trash heap with its own mailbox.

Leroy filled up their tank, never taking his eyes off Harper’s chest. “That’ll be forty-seven bucks, ladies,” he finally said, hanging up the nozzle. Harper looked at Miranda; taking her cue, Miranda whipped out a credit card. “No can do.” Leroy chuckled. “The machine’s busted.”

“You can’t fix it?” Miranda asked anxiously.

Now the chuckle turned into a roar. “Machine’s been busted since 1997. You girls got cash?”

Miranda darted her eyes toward Harper and gave her head a quick shake. Translation: They were totally screwed. Harper’s wallet, as usual, was empty; she’d been counting on Kane to front her the cash for the Vegas adventure, and Miranda’s credit card to get them through the journey.

So now what?

They could make a run for it-hop in the car and drive away before Leroy knew what hit him.

Or-

“You girls ain’t got the cash, I’m thinking you could make it up to me another way,” Leroy said, giving them a nasty grin. “In trade.”

Holy shit.

Beth couldn’t stop staring at the bed. She snuck a glance at Reed-he was watching it too.

Her mother thought she was spending the weekend at a friend’s house-which showed how little her parents knew of her life these days. She was out of friends. Reed was all she had left. If he disappeared…

She refused to let herself think about it. But she still couldn’t avoid looking at the bed.

Reed had never pushed her, never pressured her, never expected her to move faster than she was comfortable with or go further than she was ready to go. Not like Adam, who’d pretended he would wait forever-but only waited until a better offer came along. And not like Kane, who never wanted to take no for an answer, and who made Beth feel like a con artist, promising something that she was never intending to deliver.

Why did everything always come down to sex?

Reed was different from other guys in a lot of ways, but Beth wasn’t stupid. He was still a guy. And sooner or later, he would surely want to know: When? And then: Why not?

She couldn’t avoid it forever. And now, here, the bed filling up half the room, she suspected she couldn’t avoid it at all.

“Why don’t you guys scope out the casino?” Reed suggested. He shot Beth an easy to interpret look: Let’s ditch these losers, and we can finally be alone . Part of her couldn’t wait-but part of her, as always, was afraid.

“Dude, we have to get ready for tomorrow,” Fish pointed out.

“You want to rehearse?” Reed asked incredulously, glancing at the clock. The Blind Monkeys almost never rehearsed-it was one of the reasons they sucked. (Not the only reason, of course: Fish’s near total lack of rhythm and Hale’s tendency to forget what he was doing in the middle of a song helped too.) “Now?”

“Not rehearse,” Fish said, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Prepare.”

Hale got it instantly. They were tuned in to the same wavelength. Or, more accurately, tuned out. “Gotta prepare the mind , dude,” he said, digging for something in his backpack. “Get in the zone.”

He pulled out the bong. Fish whipped out a lighter and cocked his head at Beth and Reed. “You in?”

“I don’t know,” Reed hedged. “Maybe we should-”

“We’re in,” Beth interrupted. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and tugged Reed down next to her. She could tell he wanted to get away from the guys-and probably the bong, too. Ever since they’d started dating. Reed had been cutting back on the pot. Way back.

But no matter: Once she’d discovered that one or two puffs of the miracle drug would crush her doubts, calm her terrors, and clear her head, Beth had been more than happy to pick up his slack. She reached for the bong and, like an old pro, inhaled deeply, savoring the burn.

Along with Reed, this was the only thing that had allowed her to make it through the last couple months. This feeling of lightness and freedom, so different from the suffocating guilt and shame that always threatened to crush her. She needed the escape-and if Reed ever found out why, he would leave her, which made her terror absolute.

Fish reached for the bong, but she held tight and, violating etiquette and caution, inhaled another deep lungful. It would be a long weekend-and she needed all the help she could get.

“Now, this is more like it,” Harper gushed as they turned onto the Strip. “Civilization. Thank God.”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“Okay, how much longer are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Harper asked, exasperated. “I already told you I was sorry. How was I supposed to know that you’d find-”

“Don’t say it!” Miranda shrieked. “I’m trying to block it out of my mind forever.”

“Okay, okay. How was I supposed to know you’d find that thing in the sink. I only volunteered to take the toilet because I thought it would be the grosser job, and it is your birthday weekend, after all.”

“Celebrate good times,” Miranda deadpanned, and suddenly, in sync, they both burst into laughter. “Did all that really happen?” Miranda sputtered through her giggles. “Or was it just some joint hallucination?”

“I’m not hallucinating the smell,” Harper gasped, waving her hands under Miranda’s nose. “I washed them ten times back there, and they still stink.”

Miranda wiggled away, trying to focus on the road. “Don’t talk to me about smells,” she groaned. “It’ll just remind me of-”

“Don’t even go there,” Harper cautioned her. “You’re going to make us both sick.”

“Again.”

It had turned out that paying for the gas “in trade” had meant helping Larry and his half-toothless wife clean up the “café.” It had sustained a fair amount of damage during some kind of brawl earlier that evening: truckers versus motorcyclers, with a few local ranchers thrown in for fun. Harper and Miranda had been charged with cleaning the bathroom: It wasn’t pretty.

Now safely back in civilization, with its lights, non-toxic air, and toilets complete with modern, functional plumbing, they shook with hysterical laughter, and Harper closed her eyes, soaking in the moment. It may have been the most disgusting night of her life, but things between the two of them were actually starting to feel back to normal. There was a time when Harper had feared they would never be close again, mostly because of the things she’d done and said-and all the things she couldn’t bring herself to say. I’m sorry. I need you . For years, Harper and Miranda had told each other everything. But now Harper was harboring a secret, and Miranda couldn’t ever find out the truth. Harper had to stay silent and guarded, always wondering how it was possible that life could go on, day after day, totally normal, that the people around her could smile and laugh like they didn’t know the whole thing could come crashing down at any moment, crushing them all.

Harper had to act like nothing was wrong, like she had forgotten what she had done. She had to pretend that she was as confident and carefree as ever, and hide her terror-and her guilt-from everyone. Even Miranda. Especially Miranda, who knew her the best.