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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 wou