“You’re just tired of walking the straight and narrow.” He sounded exasperated. “So you went for a little  harmless excitement by necking with an authority figure.”
“Excuse me?” Sophie said.
“You didn’t even give this man a name. You said he was the mayor. That’s obviously more important  than who he is as a person.”
“His name is Phineas Tucker,” Sophie said. “And I think you’re missing something key here.”
“I’m not missing anything,” Brandon said. “You’re rebelling against the oppressive social structure that’s  made your family outcast, by corrupting its most powerful and popular adherent. And now you’re  sending me a wake-up call—literally—that I’m not paying enough attention to you.”
“I don’t think this is about you,” Sophie said. “Brandon, I came all over that dock. Guilt and all, and I  still came.”
“Guilt can be an aphrodisiac,” Brandon said automatically.
“Brandon, pay attention here. He went down on me and I loved it. I wanted to...” Sophie searched for  the words that would make him pay attention and finally borrowed Phin’s. “I wanted to fuck his brains  out.” Her voice rose as she thought about it, and anger made her honest. “As a matter of fact, I still want  to fuck his brains out. Really, I do. And call me crazy, but I think this is a bad sign for our relationship.”
“You don’t have to shock me with language to make me pay attention,” Brandon said, and Sophie  wanted him dead. “When you get back home, we’ll have a long talk and get you straightened out.”
Sophie gritted her teeth. Maybe she didn’t want straightened out. Maybe she liked being bent. Maybe  she’d go find Phin and invite him to bend her some more. “And we did have sex. I came, that’s sex.”
“You come with a vibrator, too,” Brandon said. “Stop dramatizing yourself.”
Sophie gripped the receiver until her knuckles went white. “I’m telling you, I had sex!”
“Good for you,” Amy said from the doorway. “Who are you bragging to?”
“Brandon,” Sophie said.
“Yes!” Amy plopped herself down at the foot of the bed, bouncing with satisfaction, and the dog moved  closer to Sophie, the epitome of annoyed canine. “Sorry, dog. This was Phineas T., right?”
Sophie nodded.
“And now Brandon is explaining to you why you did this, and he isn’t mentioning lust and satisfaction.”
Sophie nodded again.
“Who’s talking to you?” Brandon said.
“Amy,” Sophie said. “She just recapped your entire conversation.”

“Oh, yes, your sister, the psychological genius.” Brandon sounded annoyed for the first time. “Definitely  listen to her.”
“Let me get this straight. You don’t care that Phin went down on me, but you’re jealous that I’m listening  to my sister instead of you?” Sophie gave up. “Brandon, I think this is an indication that this relationship  isn’t working for us.”
“Yes,” Amy said.
“Of course the relationship is working for us.” Brandon sounded really annoyed now. “You’re just acting  out a little—”
“ ‘A little.’ ” Sophie shook her head. “I’m not acting out a little. I’m getting my brains blown out by the  river by a guy I hardly know.”
“I love this,” Amy said.
“Sounds like acting-out to me,” Brandon said. “Go get some sleep and sober up. You’ll be back to  normal in the morning.”
“Wait a minute—”
“Good night, Sophie,” Brandon said, and hung up.
“I don’t believe this.” Sophie stared at the receiver.
“Who cares about him?” Amy said. “You had great sex.”
“Not according to Phin and Brandon.” Sophie put the receiver back on the cradle. “It’s not sex at all,  according to these yahoos.”
“Wait, I get it. You only had oral sex.” Amy rolled her eyes. “How Clintonesque of them.”
“Well, it’s an out for me,” Sophie said. “Evidently I didn’t cheat, after all. And Brandon says when I get  home, he’ll straighten me out.”
“Does he now?” Amy’s voice was cold, and Sophie said, “Yeah.”
“I don’t like Brandon,” Amy said. “The mayor, however, I might approve of. On a short-term basis  only, of course.”
“I don’t,” Sophie said, and thought about Phin in the dark, and his hands and his mouth, and she  shivered all over. “I just want him again. Only this time, I want the whole thing, the entire phallic  variation.”
“The Phallic Variation.” Amy grinned. “Sounds like a techno-thriller. Tom Clancy’s Phallic Variation. I  think you should go for it.”
“I can’t.” Sophie slid down into her pillows and tried not to think about going for it and thought about it  anyway. “I can’t cheat again. But, oh God, Amy, it was good.”

“You know, I never heard you say, ‘God, it was good’ after Brandon,” Amy said. “And now here’s the  mayor, who seems to know his thumb from a clitoris.”
Sophie felt her lips quirk in spite of herself. “Oh, yes. He went places no man has gone before. He also  seems open to direction.”
“Your future is clear.” Amy grinned at her. “Dump Brandon and move on to the Phallic Variation. Of  course I’d emphasize that it’s a variation, and he has to slide down your stomach first before he gets his.”
Sophie stopped smiling. “I can’t. Phin was sort of a kinky fantasy, sex with a guy I don’t know, swept  away in the dark by the river, all that stuff—” She felt a little dizzy just thinking about it. “But I’m not even  sure I like him—” Although I like what he does, dear God, I do. Sophie dug herself deeper into the  bed and shoved all thoughts of Phin away. “He probably won’t even come back. I don’t think he had  that phenomenal a time. Mostly we argued.”
“You have so much to learn about men,” Amy said. “If he talked you out of your pants, he had a good  time. And even if you’re all right in the morning, you’ll be wanting him again in the dark. That’s what the  dark is for. Wanting guys like Phin.”
“Good night,” Sophie said, and Amy laughed and left the room.
Guys like Phin. Sophie thought of him again, so relaxed next to her, careless and cool, and then she  thought of the way his mouth had moved down her body and made her shudder, thought of his hands hot  on her, his fingers inside her, thought about what he would feel like moving hard into her—
Sophie put her pillow over her head.
He’d been so hot. She’d been so hot. That was so wrong of her. But, oh God, it had felt so good. After  an hour, she gave up and relived the whole thing all over again, dwelling lavishly on the moments that  were particularly perverse and unlike her, fixing the awkward parts. By the time she’d reviewed it a  couple of times, it was so glossy, it could have been a hot scene in a movie.
Hello.
That would be wrong, she told herself, but her mind clicked along, rewriting her night, and after a few  minutes, she gave up and went downstairs and opened her PowerBook, the dog sighing and following  her to lie down again at her feet.
“Sorry,” Sophie told him.
And then she began to type.
“Beautiful morning,” Phin said when he came down to the breakfast table. He kissed Dillie on top of her  head. “You gonna beat ‘em today, kid?”
Dillie straightened her softball shirt. “Yep. I’m ready.”

“The Tuckers are always ready.” He sat down, picked up his glass of orange juice and met his mother’s  narrowed eyes. “What?”
“Good time last night?” she said.
He put his orange juice glass down. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, did you have a good time last night at the Tavern with the movie people?” Liz said.
Dillie frowned. “You didn’t say all that.”
Liz handed Dillie a buttered muffin. “Eat, please.” She turned back to Phin and smiled her cobra smile.
“Yes,” Phin said, returning her smile with an equal lack of warmth. “An excellent time. What else did
Virginia have to say?” He snagged a muffin and buttered it while he reoriented his brain from smug  satisfaction to defense alert.
“She suggested you take Rachel to the movies.”
“I don’t go to the movies,” Phin said. “Especially with Rachel. I have a major softball game this morning,  and it needs all my attention.”
“It’s just the Blue Birds,” Dillie said. “We can beat them no problem.”
“Never let your guard down, Dill,” Phin said, keeping one eye on his mother. “The ones that look  harmless are the ones that take you by surprise.”
“You really thought nobody would talk?” Liz said.
“Not before breakfast,” Phin said. “It’s Saturday, for Christ’s sake.”
“You’re the mayor,” Liz said. “You have standing. People are interested in what you do. You have a  responsibility to this town.”
“Lucky me. Could I have some eggs?” He handed Liz his plate, and she filled it while she talked.
“As I said, it’s not a good idea, associating with the movie people. Virginia’s told everybody by now—”
“Told everybody what? That I had a couple of beers at the Tavern? There’s breaking news for you.”
Thank God, Virginia hadn’t been on the Whipple dock. “What does she—” he began and then froze at  the belated memory of where the Whipple dock was.
Across the river from the Garveys‘.
Not directly across. Upstream a little. But still too close.
“What else did Virginia say?” he asked his mother.
“That was it.” She handed him his plate. “I gather she missed something?”
Phin sat back in his chair, stared at the ceiling, and regrouped. He must have been out of his fucking

mind. Three or four beers and Sophie saying, “I’d have to be depraved” with that mouth, and he’d  forgotten where he was and who he was and lunged for her.
Of course, she’d forgotten she had a boyfriend, so he wasn’t alone. Lust could play hell with a person’s  memory. And morals. And common sense.
“What did you do?” Liz said.
Phin sat up and ate a forkful of eggs. “Excellent breakfast. Thank you.”
Liz closed her eyes. “Am I going to be hearing something horrible?”
“Nope,” Phin said. “You’d have heard it by now.”
“What’s horrible?” Dillie said.
“Nothing,” Phin said. “Everything’s great. But I still think you’d better watch those Blue Birds.”
“Stephen will make capital of this,” Liz said.
“Stephen sleeps with Virginia,” Phin said. “He has to find something to do for excitement.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Liz said. “Don’t give him any advantage. And stay away from those movie people.”
The phone rang, and Phin escaped to get it. When he came back, Liz said, “Who was it?”
“The movie people,” Phin said. “They need fuses. I’m taking some out to them this afternoon.”
“Don’t do this,” Liz said, with an edge in her voice.
“Don’t push me,” Phin said, just as sharply.
“Can I have more muffin?” Dillie said, and when he looked at her, her eyes were anxious.
“If you have more muffin, will you throw it up on third base?” he said.
“No.” Dillie looked from Phin to Liz and back again. “Are you guys fighting? You never fight, but this  sounds like a fight, and I don’t like it.”
“It’s okay, Dillie,” Liz said. “Your father is being a dummy, but we’re not mad.”
“Grandma’s not minding her own business,” Phin said. “But we’re not mad. We don’t get mad. We’re
Tuckers.”
“Okay,” Dillie said. “It sounded mad, though.”
“About the Blue Birds,” Phin said, and distracted his daughter with softball strategy.
Across the table, his mother regarded him coldly, not distracted at all.