“Have you been drinking?”

“It’s five-thirty.”

“I can smell it.”

“I was helping Jude clean up after his party last night. Got beer on me.”

“Yeah, the beer that missed your mouth.”

“Frankie’s going to look priceless,” Evy sang, pretending obliviousness to the tension.

Annie glanced down at her brother’s hand and he removed it.

Nora had begun to clean the makeup from Raj’s face. Annie hated herself for feeling like this: desire and jealousy. Nora was right: She would kill them in their sleep. Raj was hers; Lew, with his disturbing, unreal face, was hers; Nora too. She felt almost sick, wanting, wanting, wanting. And she was furious at her innocent brother, who might do something stupid with this silly little girl who was throwing herself at him. Evy’s high-pitched squeal grated like a cross-cut saw on the bone of her chest.

Annie started to wipe the makeup off Lew’s face.

“You’d better clean Frank off,” she said to Evy. “You’ve got to go back now. I’m going to come with you.”

“You can’t,” her brother said.

“Why not?”

“I’m meeting Jude and Linus in KC, so I’m just going to head right on from Evy’s. Don’t have time to drop you back here.”

“You were at an all-night party last night.”

“We’ve got tickets to see Lee’s Hep Cats.”

“All righty, Frankie,” Evy cut in, having just put on the finishing touches and acting as if she hadn’t heard anything that had been said. “Now you look super-delish.”

This was the same term Annie had used a little earlier and uttered in as fake a fashion. As Frank left to wash his face, Evy hurried around to gather up her things.

“Okay, guys.” Her voice was high and wheedling. Her eyes fluttered, and she seemed unable to look directly at any of them. “This was such a blast! You guys are crazy! Aloha!” And she almost skipped out the door.

Frank wished Evy would just sit quiet. She chattered nervously, and every now and then some flirtatious gesture would flare out: She would heft her hair with both hands onto her head; or rest her foot on the dash, seemingly intent on examining her own little painted toes; or she would become suddenly infantile, balling up her body and speaking with a lisp. It was a confused and embarrassing display. Frank, who had known her all her life and who thought of her still as a little girl, met it with silence and a few weary smiles.

He lit a cigarette and opened his window.

“Can I have one?” she asked.

“You smoke?”

“Who doesn’t?” She rolled her eyes as she took a cigarette from the pack he had thrown onto the dash and cupped her hand around the lighter he held out for her as if they were in a high wind.