“All right, Tyra. That’s enough.”

“What do you think about that?”

She waved the same finger, and someone behind me said, “This is messed up, man.”

Tyra half-turned but, in the end, cared only for Jason. “Why did you do it? I mean…” She cupped his shoulder, all the animosity gone. “I mean you and me. Come on.” She trailed her fingers down his chest. Jason backed away, but she followed, staring at his mouth, his chin. “You didn’t mean it, did you? Not really. Just tell me that. Just say you’ll screw me like you used to.” She kissed him, but he didn’t kiss her back. She pressed her hips on his, and her hands danced. “What’s the matter, baby? Nobody works like we do.” Her fingers twined in his hair, but he caught her wrists, looking away from the confusion and hurt in her eyes. “Don’t say it again, baby. Please don’t…”

“We’re finished. I told you.”

“We can’t be.”

“I’ll say it for the last time.” He released her wrists, and kept his hands up. “It’s over. We’re done.”

“Why? Because you say so?”

“Yes.”

“You?” Fury in her voice. “You—you fucking asshole?” She moved forward, all eyes and angry edges. Even the bystanders stepped back. “So give me what I came for.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“An apology, you arrogant prick.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, more than that. Spell it out so everyone here knows. Tell them what happened! Tell them what you really are!”

For an instant, I thought Jason would do the gentle thing, and elaborate in whatever manner it took to calm her down. He’d say something, I thought, anything; but Jason was not that kind of man. I saw the coldness glint in his eyes, as sudden and sure as sun on glass; and Tyra must have seen it, too. She made a wordless sound of pure rage, then lunged for him, fingers clawed. He danced away again, but she followed at a stumble, swung for his face. But Jason was no kind of runner. He caught the wrist, twisted her where she stood, and pushed her away. Her foot caught a root; she sprawled in the dirt.

“You bastard.” She said it softly, tears on her face. “You fucker.”

Jason turned to the men at the house. “Somebody call her a cab, all right?”

“Don’t do me any favors.” Tyra found her feet, and scrubbed at her eyes, smearing the mascara. “You don’t do favors, do you?”

“I want you to wait for the cab,” Jason said.

“Screw you.”