LOGIN(Mason)“Warmth. Out of ten.”“Chloe. Your hand’s on my cock.”“I know where my hand is. I need the number.”She’s kneeling between my legs on our bed, with a little glass bottle next to her knee and her phone balanced on my stomach. The notes app is open.The lab sent her the new sample today. It’s an oil for couples, and she says she can’t test it on herself, because she knows what she wants from it and that would be bad data.So she asked if she could try it on me, and like an idiot I said yes. I thought she meant on my back.“Seven,” I tell her.She types it in with her little finger. Her other hand doesn’t stop. It slides all the way up and her palm closes over the head, hot and slippery. My hand grabs a fistful of the sheet.“Why isn’t it an eight?”“What?”“If it’s a seven, then something’s wrong with it, and I’ve got to tell the lab what.”“Nothing’s wrong with it. Call it an eight.”“You can’t change your score because I asked you, Mason. Now I’ve got to write down both.”She
(Lily)"Daddy, I need a horse.""You need one?""A real one. Not a picture of one."Daddy's cutting up chicken for dinner. He stops with the knife in the air."What do you need a horse for?""To ride to school.""We've got a car for that.""The car can’t breathe on my neck and eat carrots from my hand. A horse would be happy to see me. And I can’t pet the car."Daddy looks down at the chicken for a long time. He does that when he wants to laugh and I'm being serious."Ask Mommy, peanut."Daddy says ask Mommy when he wants to say yes and he isn't allowed to. So that's good.Mommy's at the table with her laptop. She doesn't even look up."No.""I didn't ask you yet.""I heard you ask Daddy. The answer's no, baby.""Why?"Now she looks up."Because a horse needs a field to run in and a stable to sleep in. Somebody has to feed it and brush it and clean up after it every single day.""I'll do it. I've got a job at school already, and I do it every day.""Every school day.""The horse can h
(Elias)"Your goalkeeper is afraid of the ball. He's supposed to stop it, not get out of its way.""Grandpa, please. They can hear you.""That's the idea, boy. I'm not shouting for the exercise."The goalkeeper in the orange vest ducks again, and the ball goes in over his head.Elijah runs a soccer league for grown men on Wednesday nights. I come to watch the orange team, because they're the worst thing I've ever seen and I can't look away.They don't even have shirts. They play in vests the boy lends them out of the shed."I walked here from the road," I tell him. "My chauffeur is parked outside somebody's house like a burglar.""You say that every week.""It's true every week. Build a parking lot. I'll pay for it. You can have it by next Wednesday.""No.""You haven't heard how much.""I don't need to." He writes a score on his clipboard and doesn't look up. "You gave me money one time, to see what I'd do with it. This is what I did. If you keep paying for stuff, it stops being mine
(Natasha)"Two now.""One now and one after the cake. That's the deal.""Two now and none after the cake."Lily stops with the bowl half lifted, because she wasn't expecting a counter-offer, and my daughter has never in her life been offered a deal she didn't want to examine."That's the same amount.""Yes," Diego says.She hands him two orange segments. Then she looks at me, and I can see her trying to work out where the trick was.She can't find one. That isn't the same as being happy about it.Diego's off across the room at a dead sprint yelling "Mommy, Mommy, I got two," and Gloria catches him without looking.It's his birthday.The house is loud and getting louder and somebody has already stepped on something that squeaks.In the kitchen Gloria reaches for a tray and Nathanial takes it off the counter before her hand gets there."I can carry a tray.""You can. You shouldn’t. I'm carrying it."She lets him.She's been letting him all afternoon and hasn't said one word about it, an
(Lily)"Excuse me. Do you have spoons?"The lady pushing the cart looks down at me. She's got a pin on her jacket shaped like a little plane, which I think is a good idea for a job like hers."I've got these," she says, and holds up a skinny white stick."That's not a spoon.""It's for stirring.""So is a spoon."She laughs and gives me two of them anyway.I take them because two sticks is better than nothing, but they’re not as good as one spoon.Mommy's next to me with her laptop open on the little table that folds down out of the seat.She waits until the cart's gone past us."Do they count?""No.""I figured."I put the sticks in the front pocket of my backpack and zip it.Maybe there will be an emergency I need sticks for, then I’ll be glad they didn’t have spoons.It’s not very likely, but maybe.This is my first time on an actual airplane.Before, I just sat in the chairs and watched mommy walk through the doors.Third chair from the pole with the clock on it. That was mine and
(Sonia)"You can tell me it's bad. I'd survive. I'd be unbearable for a year and then I'd be completely fine,” Liam lies to me shamelessly.I'm at the desk eating cold fries out of the tray with my fingers, because I haven't had anything but a straw since they put me in that dress.Liam's on the end of the bed with his hands squeezed between his knees. He hasn't sat still since I got back to the room.Probably since I left the room initially"You know it's not bad," I tell him."That's not a review. That's a hostage statement.""Eat something. You've been like this for hours.""I can't eat. My stomach's a fist."He looks at the script on the desk, then makes himself look at the wall."How far did you get?""All of it. Then I read it again."He puts both hands over his face."You read it twice and you've been in this room for twenty minutes talking to me about fries.""You're the one who said take my time.""I said that when I thought you'd hate it. Nobody means that."I wipe my hands
(Natasha)I stare at the merger documents on my desk until the numbers blur into a solid black line.Above me, the water stain on the ceiling drips.A single, fat drop of condensation hits the edge of my metal trash can.Tink.The sound drills right into the base of my skull.I drag my finger down
(Natasha)My mother makes tea at six in the morning because she doesn’t know what else to do.I sit at the kitchen island and watch her move through the townhouse, calm and efficient in a way that only makes her worry more obvious.She raised me to be stronger than this, and now she’s pretending no
(Nathanial)My mother has put flowers on every surface.It's a good instinct.Flowers fill space, give the eye somewhere to land, make a house feel inhabited rather than merely occupied.She’s thought carefully about this afternoon and it shows.What she hasn't thought about, or perhaps has thought
(Gloria)I have attended enough industry parties to know that the real entertainment is never the canapés.It's the people in the room.Specifically, tonight, it's the corner near the bar where Nathanial is standing with a glass of scotch.Wearing the expression of a man who’s recently had his enti







