"Ya broke it." He glared murderously at Stony. Stony didn't know what to do with his hands. He started to apologize, stammering. Mott pushed Cheri away, stood up, shoved past Stony and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door.

Cheri sat on the rug crying. Stony didn't know whether to go after Mott or Cheri—stood nailed to the spot.

"I wanna thank you for a wonderful evening," Cheri spat with her head down.

"Me!" Stony sputtered, pointing to himself.

"Oh, get outta here." Cheri got up, slapped away Stony's hand and marched into her bedroom, slamming the door. Stony felt panicked again. He ran to the locked door. "Cheri, lemme in."

"Whyncha break it down."

Stony rested his head on the wooden door. Suddenly the door swung open and he almost pitched forward into the room. Cheri walked past him into the bathroom, slamming that door.

"Cheri, I love you," he whined.

"Do me a favor, don't love me so much."

He heard running water and gargling.

"I got jealous," he offered to the closed door. More gargling. "I'm sorry," in his best puppy tone of voice. "I'm goin'." He lingered at the bathroom door. "Hey... Cheri? He's fulla shit. I didn't break his nose. I just tapped it. You remember that time I thought I busted my nose? You remember that game against Power? That guy rammed me with his helmet? I thought I was dead. All I got was a nosebleed." The only response Stony heard was running water. He went into the kitchen and poured himself some orange juice. Cheri came in five minutes later wearing a red bathrobe.

"Stony, get out of my house."

"Just answer me one question. Then I'm gone." Stony carefully placed his glass on the counter. "Did you fuck with him?"

Cheri put her hands in the deep pockets of her robe, tossed her head to snap the hair out of her face. "Yes."

Stony's insides frosted over. He stared at her. Her expression was set. No backs. No penny tax. The end. Stony lifted the juice glass, put it down. Walked into the living room. Walked back. Picked up the glass, put it down. Walked into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, came back into the kitchen, picked up the juice glass, stared at her immovable face, her get-out-of-here eyes. He wheeled and with a yell flung the glass against the far wall. The smash stung his ears. Orange rivulets dripped down the wall to the counter, flattening out, heading left and right along a strip of chrome behind the faucet. Cheri didn't move. Stony picked up a chunk of glass at his feet, dropped it in the plastic-lined trash can and left the apartment.

3

STONY HIT the streets, hands in pockets, nose aimed at the pavement. He walked half a block before he heard shouts. Mott was running toward him, bloody handkerchief to his face, followed by two Mott-sized guys brandishing baseball bats. At first he thought they were chasing Mott, but when one of them pointed to Stony—"There he is!"—Stony turned and tore ass back to Cheri's. He took the stairs four at a time up to the third floor.