Pita though—she was a different story. I had half a mind to go wake her up, confront her. But what would that accomplish? She wasn’t coping well. A confrontation like that might push her over the edge.

Are we okay? she’d asked me earlier on the porch.

Yeah, except for the fact you’re fucking Nitro behind my back.

“Jack?” It was Elizaveta. She was looking at me with concern.

She’d known. Jesus had likely known too. How many other people had known?

“I’m sorry,” she added.

“Whatever,” I said. It wasn’t her responsibility to tell me Pita was cheating on me. She was dating Jesus. Her loyalty was to him, to his family, not me—

Elizaveta rocked forward onto her knees. She stubbed out her cigarette on the floorboards, plucked mine from my fingers, and put it out as well. Then she placed her hands on my chest. For a moment I thought she was going to try to hug me, console me. She didn’t. Instead she pressed me backward. I resisted. I didn’t know what was going on.

“Lie back,” she whispered, still pressing.

And then I was lying back. My baseball cap slipped off my head.

“Eliza…” I said.

She lifted her pink top, exposing her midriff, then her violet bra, lifting the top over her head. She moved forward so she straddled me, her groin against mine. She took my hands in hers and pressed them against her breasts.

This was reckless, I thought. Madness. Nitro’s corpse was outside, no more than two dozen feet away. His blood stained the floor. Pita and Jesus were in the next room.

But a switch had flicked inside me, and none of that mattered.

My hands were working on their own, exploring the firmness of her breasts, the weight of them, the hardness of her nipples.

I undid the clasp of her bra. The spaghetti straps slipped down her arms. The cups released her breasts, which were perfect in the dim candlelight, full and round.

Setting the bra aside, she leaned forward, placing a hand to either side of my head. Her lips tickled my neck, my ear, her breath warm, erotic. She leaned farther forward, so her breasts brushed my face. I could smell her sweat pushing through her perfume, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

My tongue probed, trying to catch her moving nipples. She moaned quietly. I fumbled open the button on her shorts, tugged the zipper down. But that was all I could manage with her straddling me. She understood this and eased back, then stood, gracefully, like a cat.

Her emerald eyes never left mine. They were intense, beautiful. She was beautiful.