Half of what he says seems to be veiled insults with gross, suggestive implications.

To Calla, he asks, “Saw that husband of yours with a blonde and thought, surely not. And here I thought he was into the opposite of his wife’s style.”

She rolls her eyes.

He also asks Theo if his mother’s still a MILF, and tells Keller, “Let me know when you’re tired of the cum dumpster. Wouldn’t mind giving it a go.”

It.

It’s his own insult, but Keller looks at him like he’s not planning to murder him so much as already wondering how to hide the body. “I cannot spell this out any clearer for you: you touch her, your family won’t be able to bury what’s left of you. I don’t share my things.”

His claim’s somehow diminishing me, but not nearly as much as Richard.

The jerk is fast to back off. “Just joking. Got the message.”

“Splendid. Pass the garlic bread, if you would.”

I think his parents had a bit of a premonition when they called him Richard. Dick is very much the perfect name for him. And I’m not the only one who notices. But Dick aside, I like the other vespers. Tia and Sebastian didn’t show tonight, but everyone’s here, with the addition of Charlotte, who remains pretty quiet, seated between Calla and Theo.

She doesn’t escape Dick’s attention. “So, is it true you’re done with the sharks? I wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a while if you’re looking for your next meal ticket, darling.”

Charlotte pretends her hearing is suddenly deficient, which is wise.

“Shut the hell up, Richard,” Calla snaps, twice as pissed off as she was on her own behalf.

I’m a little curious, both about Charlotte’s presence and the way the entire table—save for Dick—seems protective of her. I mean, given the events of Saturday, it’s hardly surprising. But wasn’t she with some guy from the Shark House?

I remember seeing her here Sunday night though.

I wait until we’re on our way back upstairs to ask some of my questions. “How did Richard end up here?”