“It’s still cold,” she says.

“Thanks.” The beer leaves a clear, cold track down my center. “Wow.” I exhale slowly. “That was really good.” I hand it back to her. She’s studying her purse.

“You keep that one.” She takes another one from her purse. “I was going to save this one till later, but what the hell, right?”

“Later when? It’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

“I know. But I always keep an extra beer around. I like to have something to look forward to. Cheers.” I lean over, and we touch bottles. She pours half of hers down her throat and slowly exhales. “Can you believe I’ve been dumped for that dork Marty Gerard?” she asks.

“You’ve been dumped?” I parrot.

“Basically. You didn’t notice how Junior treated me all night?”

“No.”

“It’s been going on all fall, off and on. He pretends I don’t exist. He’s playing the game of treating me like dog shit so I break up with him and he doesn’t have to take any responsibility for it.”

“Oh.” I’ve never heard of that game. Grimshaw never got dumped. The more I know about other people, the less I know about Grimshaw.

Rack sighs. “It sucks.” She holds her beer bottle up to her lips and blows a long, sad note. “Never have sex, Serena,” she says. “It’s kind of … this lie.”

She concentrates on picking fuzz balls off her socks.

I clear my throat. “What do you mean, it’s a lie?”

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal.” She checks her watch. “It’s just another stupid promise that stupid people believe in until they learn. You know what I mean?”

I don’t, but I nod. Grimshaw’s been with a lot of guys. But I don’t know if she took any of it as a promise or a lie. She seems happiest now, actually, staying with Angel on Main Street without any boyfriend at all. If she gets out of the junkyard and off the hill, maybe that’s as big as her dream needs to get.

“Well, shit,” Rack sighs. “What are we going to do with this damn thing?”

We look at the dentures, each take our last big swig of beer, and then look back at each other. We start laughing at the same time. Suds come out of my nose and Rack’s nose, and we sit there laughing, holding the rest of the beer in our mouths until it foams out between our fingers. I manage to swallow mine and keep laughing. Then I realize she isn’t laughing anymore. She’s crying. She’s sobbing into her hands with her elbows on her knees. I don’t really know what to do, so I get off the drum and sit on the bucket seat next to her. I touch her knee.

“I’m really sorry,” I tell her. “About Junior and everything.”