Same as before, but with trays set up for dinner. The TV is blaring a game show.
CAMMIE, RICH and DARRELL take up the two chairs and sofa, hunched over their respective meals.
RICH
—fucking salmon loaf, huh?
DARRELL
Yeah.
CAMMIE
Hey, don’t start, okay,’cause I’m gonna throw my plate at both ’a you, keep ripping this stuff to shreds.
RICH
What?
CAMMIE
Tastes like shit, I can’t help it. I still gotta cook it, takes time to prepare it, doesn’t it?
DARRELL
I’m not saying nothing.
RICH
Well, I am—(BEAT) Tastes like some thing. Something bad. Fish. I hate that—
CAMMIE looks at him but says nothing. DARRELL glances over, smiling.
DARRELL
The fuck you think salmon is, Rich?
RICH
Should I know? Fucking gourmet chef, some TV show? I’m saying what it tastes like, not what it is.
DARRELL
Oh man . . . listen, you gotta be kidding me, right? “Salmon.” He’s just giving me shit, isn’t he, Mom?
CAMMIE
I dunno.
RICH
I’ll give you shit, pal, piece ’a this salmon loaf, ’ever the fuck it is, all over your Zeppelin shirt.
CAMMIE (barely amused)
You two’re like a couple brats over at nursery school. Drive me nuts I gotta work there all day, come home find my babies going at it. Knock it off and eat.
(DARRELL makes a face and RICH smiles. He throws a piece of his dinner at DARRELL, who ducks.)
Hey, I said enough!
RICH reaches over from his chair and pulls her close. She gives in and they kiss deeply while DARRELL slips part of his salmon onto RICH’s plate.
DARRELL
Careful there, Rich, fucking tongue ’a hers’ll be snaking down your throat—
CAMMIE glares at DARRELL and they all eat in silence for a few moments.
RICH (to DARRELL)
Hey, you wanna go to the track with me, Friday night?
DARRELL
What’s going on?
RICH
I need a date—
DARRELL
Figures.
RICH punches DARRELL and they wrestle from where they’re sitting.
RICH
Stock cars’re coming in, two weeks only. Got tickets from work.
DARRELL
That’s cool.
CAMMIE
We’re going tomorrow night, but thought you’d wanna go with Rich alone. Check out the “babes—”
RICH
No shit.
(She punches RICH on the arm.)
Oww!!
CAMMIE
Be nice, two of you get out and do something. Right?
DARRELL
Yeah. Can Tim go with us?
RICH
Sure. Gotta pay full admit, though. Only two discounts per night. Per person.
DARRELL
No prob’. His mom’s good for cash. Hint, hint—
CAMMIE
Uh-uh, I don’t give a shit, I earn my money. You wanna buy hot dogs, sneak a beer, you need to round up your own, Sweetie—
DARRELL
Just kiddin’ ya.
RICH
Maybe we can slip ’em in, trunk or some deal ’til we get inside the gates. Save us a couple bucks we’ll get a pizza—
DARRELL
Cool. (BEAT) You get enough air, closed up space like that?
RICH
Fuck yeah. Go for miles in there.
DARRELL
Yeah?
RICH
No problem at all. What do you think, Cammie?
CAMMIE
Long as his Mom knows—
DARRELL
Great! No, that’d be really great. (BEAT) Shari going, or she gonna hit the Thursday show with you guys?
CAMMIE
Nah, she can’t get a sitter.
RICH
Can’t afford it.
CAMMIE
Rich.
DARRELL
Oh.
(Silence settles over them as DARRELL picks at his food. RICH and CAMMIE exchange looks.)
So, Rich, how’s the car? Don’t trust those fuckers down the shop.
RICH
Still got a lotta trannie fluid dripping. I’m gonna take it back over, maybe Monday, give ’em hell—
DARRELL
Yeah?
RICH
Fuck yes. Get to the bottom ’a this.
DARRELL
Oh. (BEAT) So, then, where’s the . . .?
CAMMIE
It’s in the garage. And don’t even think about it.
A moment passes.
RICH
Hey, Babe, you get me a beer?
CAMMIE
Shit . . . you’re a real bargain, you know?
RICH
Better believe it.
They kiss again, then CAMMIE stretches and smiles, tossing a look at DARRELL as she goes.
She’s a great woman. You know that, right?
DARRELL
Whatever, man.
RICH nods and stands, moving his tray out of the way and crossing to the door. He swings it open and fires up a smoke, holding his Lucky Strike outside.
RICH
So how’s school?
DARRELL
Fucked.
RICH
Yeah. (BEAT) I went there, you knew that, right?
DARRELL
Uh-huh.
RICH
That ol’ bitch in the office still there? Miss Pinch-Ass, something, her name—
DARRELL
Dickers? Kinda orange hair—
RICH
Shit yes! Fucking Dickers! That’s her . . . What a cunt.
DARRELL
Oh yeah.
They share a brief smile as DARRELL bums a cigarette.
RICH
Blow it out here . . . hate the smell, love the fucking taste. What can I tell ya?
DARRELL
Right.
RICH
—hey, piece of advice?
DARRELL
Mmm?
RICH
Giving you a clue, pal . . . get the fuck outta here, you got the chance.
DARRELL
Huh?
RICH
Your step-sister’s coming over. Bringing her fucking kid, gonna watch some kinda bullshit tape she bought. Sorry I ever lugged that fucking machine home now, know what I mean?
DARRELL
No shit. And bringing the baby?
RICH
Fuck else she gonna do with it?
DARRELL
Oh man—
RICH
Love to punt that little fucker into the next county! Crying his ass off all night, stinking up the place. Can’t take that shit, day of humping fifty pounders ’a dog chow all over hell—
DARRELL
Yeah, I’m with ya.
They each take a drag, then RICH looks back inside.
RICH (to CAMMIE)
Honey, the fuck you doing, brewing the shit youself?!
DARRELL laughs and RICH winks at him.
DARRELL
Listen, I’m gonna take off. That kid hits me with a rattle or something, liable to fling ’em out the fucking window.
RICH
I’ll hold it open for ya, buddy, believe me!
DARRELL gives him a sympathy pat on the shoulder as RICH fakes a jab at him. They spar for a moment, which turns quickly into wrestling. DARRELL loses.
DARRELL
Hey, come on! You fucking want me!! You like me, don’t ya, you do—
RICH
Little prick, come on! Get off!! You are a squirrelly motherfucker—
RICH sits on top of him now, twisting his arm.
DARRELL
’Kay, oww, shit, I give!!
RICH laughs and pulls DARRELL to his feet. They slap at each other and then DARRELL grabs his coat.
RICH
The fuck outta here . . .
(DARRELL smiles and disappears out into the night. RICH looks around as he lights up again. After a moment, CAMMIE appears with two beers.)
Hey.
CAMMIE
Hi. (BEAT) Where’d Darrell go?
RICH
I dunno, took off. He’s your kid. (BEAT) Why’d you take so long?
CAMMIE
Called my daughter—
RICH
Step. Step-daughter.
CAMMIE
You know what I mean. Told her to come in an hour. Give us some time to clean up . . . (BEAT) Did you tell Darrell they were coming?
RICH
Nah.
CAMMIE
’Cause he likes playing with the baby.
RICH
Hmmm. Maybe he went to get smokes or something, not sure.
CAMMIE nods and leans back into RICH’s arms; he offers her a drag on his cig. She takes it and closes her eyes.
CAMMIE
—nice.
RICH
Tired?
CAMMIE
A little.
RICH
You wanna lay down or whatever . . . I can do up the dishes.
(CAMMIE laughs softly at the thought of this. RICH smiles.)
Fuck you . . . I could.
CAMMIE
That’s okay. Just gonna rest a second . . . You gotta say “screw this” every once in awhile, you know, and kick back. You do.
RICH
Yep.
RICH kisses the top of her head. She responds and turns to him as they begin to kiss passionately in the open doorway.
CAMMIE
Mmmmmmm . . . hey, you tell ’em his dad called?
RICH
Yeah, I mentioned it, yeah.
CAMMIE
You did?
RICH
Uh-huh . . . said he’d call him later.
CAMMIE
’Kay. (BEAT) Think he wants Darrell to come down and stay with ’em again this summer. Like he did two years ago—
RICH
Fine with me.
CAMMIE
Yeah, I don’t care. Whatever.
RICH
Exactly.
CAMMIE nods, then goes back to kissing RICH. They slide up roughly against the jam and continue.