“He’s eleven. You can’t just dump the kid and run off.”

“I’m not dumping him. I’m thinking about what’s best for him. Deborah thinks I’m a crappy mother anyway and maybe she’s right. At least with her he’d have a normal life, whatever that’s worth. We’d have a blast, the two of us. We could go anywhere. Nova Scotia. Have you ever been to Nova Scotia? I love the sound of it. Nova means ‘new,’ but what’s a scotia?” She put her head on his chest and wrapped her leg over his.

Her flesh was hot and the weight of her leg made him tense. He could feel her pubic hair against his thigh like a Brillo pad. “Nice idea, but it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Here’s some late-breaking news. I’m eighteen. I live at home. In two months, I start college. I don’t even have a job.”

“Neither do I. Who needs a job when you can panhandle? You ought to see ’em in the Haight. Tourists stand around gawking at all the hippie freaks. For them, it’s like being at the zoo. Hold your hand out, they’ll give you cash. They’re scared to death of us.”

“I don’t want to be a beggar when I grow up.”

She hooked an arm over his shoulder and shook him playfully. “Come on. You old sourpuss. This is the Summer of Love. We’re missing all the fun.”

He stared at the ceiling, wondering how long he’d have to put up with her before reclaiming his day.

She kissed his neck, making a low sound in her throat like she was turned on. “I love you.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it.” She licked his neck. She nibbled on his shoulder while she rubbed against him, amorous despite his failure to respond.

“Cut it out.”

“So uptight. Such a grouch. Don’t you even love me a little bit?” She put her lips to his ear and ran her tongue around the rim.

“Goddamn it. Get off.” He loosened her arms and rolled out of her embrace. He found his shorts and pulled them on. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it.

She sat up, agitated. “What’s wrong with you? Ever since I got here, you’ve treated me like shit.”

“I told you. I have work to do.”

“That is such a lie. You don’t have work. That’s ridiculous. Writing stuff down is not work.”

“What do you know? You barely made it out of ninth grade.”

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. So what?”

She pulled her legs up under her and got on her hands and knees, crawling across the bed. “What if Creed finds out about us? You think he won’t come after you?”

“You said you had an open relationship.”