The last Friday night in October, all four of them end up in Aubrey Murphy’s field. They play an idle game of Truth or Dare, which becomes Just Dares as no one wants to confess anything. Rita has to flash her tits at the cows, Imogene has to moon them. Liam has to put his tongue on the salt lick. Nick tries to approach a cow so he can write on it with a magic marker, but it keeps slowly walking away, no matter how nicely he speaks to it.
When it gets chilly, they pile into the truck, Liam and Imogene in the narrow back seat, Rita next to Nick in front.
“What now?” Nick says. “It’s only early.”
“I dare Immy to go see if Cec is home.” Liam squeezes the bottom of her thigh.
“You’re a funny fucker.” She looks into his face so he knows how not funny it is.
“Have you ever looked in his house?”
“Why would I go to his house?”
“I don’t know. Selling raffle tickets or something.”
“I bet he lives in squalor,” Rita says. “If he keeps that many old cars in front of his place, it’s probably a state inside.”
“People visit him though,” Nick says. “Must be at least room to get fucked up.”
“It didn’t look like anyone was home when we drove past,” Liam says. “Just go check. If he’s there, make up some excuse like you need to use the phone. And if he’s gone, get us a souvenir.”
“I think you need a souvenir to remind you of what an asshole you are.”
“Oh, for fuck sakes. That was a million years ago.”
“That was a year and a half ago.”
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. You owe me though.” He leans forward and kisses her on the mouth. “I can think of a couple of things I can get you to do.”
Nick, Rita, and Liam chat excitedly about what they imagine he keeps in his house. Dope likely, contraband booze and smokes definitely. Imogene stares at the dark shapes of her feet under the seat. Her veins feel like they are sinking deeper into her flesh, leaving long wiry imprints.
Cecil Jesso’s windows are dark and his old Dodge pickup is nowhere to be seen. “I think there’s a vacancy at the old inn,” Liam says. They pull over and turn off the lights. He is out and trotting down the street in seconds. “What a hard ticket,” Rita says.
Imogene watches the back of Liam’s untucked T-shirt flap down the street and hates every inch of him. He might have shown regret this summer, but obviously he hasn’t really thought about it. Because if he thought about it for five fucking seconds, he would know what it meant and how shit it is to do this to her. Fucking stunned tool Liam Lundrigan.
Liam cuts through the trees rather than walk up the driveway. Wasn’t the deal supposed to be knock on the door and make something up? He darts between trees and old cars and vanishes. Five minutes pass. Ten. Imogene tells Rita and Nick to shut up and they roll down the windows, straining their ears to hear something. Even if Cec isn’t home, anyone could be over there. What if Liam is caught trying to take something? Imogene imagines his body on a floor, bludgeoned with something heavy. Or he and Cec sitting in front of a woodstove. Drinking a beer. Laughing like old friends.
There is a rustling. Liam scampers towards them. He hops in the cab with a whoop. Nick starts the truck and they take off.
“What did you get?” Nick says. “Did you go in?”
Liam pats the front pocket of his jeans. “Found me an Easter egg.”
“We’re your escape vehicle,” Rita says. “Let’s see.”
She leans over and tries to put her hand in his pocket. Imogene slaps her hand away, surprising herself. Liam laughs and pulls it out—a thimble-sized lump of hash in his palm.
“Nice,” Nick says.
“Where did you find it?” Imogene says. “What, he leaves them for decoration?”
“I took a quick look around. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“I see.”
“Were you nervous?”
“No,” she says. “But you’re still an asshole.”
Liam leans in over her. His sweat smells new and piquant. “I think I can change your mind.” He kisses her and moves his hand up her shirt. His fingers slip under her bra and she feels something pressing against her breast. A note? She looks into his face. Liam retrieves his hand and presses one finger to her lips. “I wouldn’t go in there without finding something just for you,” he whispers.
When Nick and Rita aren’t looking, she fishes it out of her bra. A folded square. Carefully, she flattens it out in her lap and stares at it in the dim light through the window. A fifty-dollar bill. She slides it into her back pocket. In the front seat, Nick and Rita discuss where they should go to smoke up. Liam stares at her across the darkness of the cab. She gives him a smile. Her skin shines a galaxy of goosebumps.