You Suck: A Love Story

room of the deli like so much lunch meat.
    Feliz navidad.
    Our first Christmas together,” Jody said, kissing him on the cheek-giving his butt a little squeeze through his pj bottoms. “Did you get me something cute?”
    “Hi, Mom,” Tommy said into the phone. “It’s Tommy.”
    “Tommy. Sweetheart. We’ve been calling all day. It just rang and rang. I thought you were going to come home for Christmas.”
    “Well, you know, Mom, I’m in management at the store now. Responsibilities.”
    “Are you working hard enough?”
    “Oh yeah, Mom. I’m working ten-sixteen hours a day sometimes. Exhausted.”
    “Well good. And you have insurance?”
    “The best, Mom. The best. I’m nearly bulletproof.”
    “Well, I suppose that’s good. You’re not still working that horrible night shift, are you?”
    “Well, sort of. In the grocery business, that’s where the money is.”
    “You need to get on the day shift. You’re never going to meet a nice girl working those hours, son.”
    It was at this point, having heard Mother Flood’s admonition, that Jody lifted her shirt and rubbed her bare breasts against him while batting her eyelashes coquettishly.
    “But I have met a nice girl, Mom. Her name is Jody. She’s studying to be a nun-er, teacher. She helps the poor.”
    It was then that Jody pantsed him, then ran into the bedroom giggling. He caught himself on the counter to keep from tumbling over.
    “Whoa.”
    “What, son? What’s the matter?”
    “Nothing, nothing, Mom. I just had a little eggnog with the guys and started to feel it.”
    “You’re not on the drugs, are you, honey?”
    “No, no, no, nothing like that.”
    “Because your father has rehab benefits on you until you’re twenty-one. We can have one of those interventions if you can find a cheap flight home. I know that Aunt Esther would love to see you, even if you are strung out on the crack.”
    “And I her, and I her, Mom. Look, I just called to say Merry Christmas, I’ll let you-”
    “Wait, honey, your father wants to say hi.”
    “-go.”
    “Hey, Skeeter. Frisco turned you into an ass bandit yet?”
    “Hi, Dad. Merry Christmas.”
    “Glad you finally called. Your mother was worried sick about you.”
    “Well, you know, the grocery business.”
    “You working hard enough?”
    “Trying. They’re cutting back on our OT-union will only let us work sixty hours a week.”
    “Well, as long as you’re trying. How’s that old Volvo running?”
    “Great. Like a top.” The Volvo had burned to the wheels his first day in the City.
    “Swiss sure can build some cars, can’t they? Can’t say much for those little red pocketknives they make, but sons-abitches can build a car.”
    “Swedes.”
    “Yeah, well, I love the little meatballs too. Look, kid, your mother’s got me deep-frying a turkey out in the driveway. It’s starting to smoke a little. I probably oughta should go check on it. Took an hour to get the oil up to speed-it’s only about ten degrees here today.”
    “Yeah, it’s a little chilly here, too.”
    “Looks like it’s starting to catch the carport on fire a little. Better go.”
    “Okay. Love you, Dad.”
    “Call your mother more often, she worries. Holy cats, there goes the Oldsmobile. Bye, son.”
    A half hour later they were sipping coffee laced with William’s blood when the doorbell rang again. “This is getting irritating,” Jody said.
    “Call your mom,” Tommy said. “I’ll get it.”
    “We should get some sleeping pills-knock him out so he doesn’t have to drink all that booze before we bleed him.”
    The doorbell rang again.
    “We just need to get him a key.” Tommy went to the console by the door and pushed the button. There was a buzz and the click of the lock at street level. The door opened-William coming in to settle on the stairs for the night. “I don’t know how he sleeps on those steps.”
    “He doesn’t sleep. He passes out,” said the undead redhead. “Do you think if we gave him peppermint schnapps the coffee would have a minty holiday flavor?”
    Tommy shrugged. He went to the door, threw it open, and called down. “William, you like peppermint schnapps?”
    William raised a grimy eyebrow, looking suspicious. “You got something against scotch?”
    “No, no, I don’t want to mess up your discipline. I was just thinking of a more balanced diet. Food groups, you know.”
    “I had some soup and some beer today,” William said.
    “Okay then.”
    “Schnapps