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around Bretta’s neck, and he’s got them wrapped around her shoulders now and he pulls her in. His body heaves, and he buries his face in Bretta’s neck.
    Bretta whimpers and Cooper runs toward them.
    And Scott heaves a long wracking sigh, and Bretta pulls his head down so she can hold him. Scott straightens up after a moment, and he looks over Bretta’s shoulder at Cooper and nods to him.
    Bretta’s next words are spoken into Scott’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
    “I am.” And then he pulls away. “Sorry. Just really tired.”
    “Do you want something to eat? Drink?” Bretta asks.
    “I’m just tired.”
    “Want me to lay with you?” Bretta’s hands are up and down his back, cupping his shoulder blades. Playing the good wife. The concerned wife.
    “I just. No. I’m just going to lay here for a while alone.”
    “I think the man is tired,” Cooper says. He turns and walks out of the room, putting an arm around Denise as he passes her.
    “Well, I want to check that bandage on your arm anyway,” says Bretta. She sits down and motions for Scott to join her. He looks at her, and then once more at the window, and then he sits down and holds his hand out.
    Loud enough to be meant for Cooper and Denise, Bretta says, “I’m going to need the alcohol.”
    In the hall, Cooper is halfway up the stairs and then he stops, and Denise almost bumps her face into his ass.
    “What are you doing?” she says.
    “You heard her,” he says. “She needs the booze.” He pushes past her and heads back down to the main floor, and then down the hall to his room at the back of the house.
    “I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” Denise says. “It really isn’t booze.” She follows after him, stripping her socks off in the process and balling them up. Her feet are sticky and damp, and there’s sock fluff sitting between her toes. Her feet slap the hardwood.
    Cooper is already sitting on the bed, and he tips his head back.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Denise asks.
    Cooper’s got the rubbing alcohol at his lips and he’s gagging on it, his eyes watering, his face red and getting redder. He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at her from the side of his face, his one watery blue eye like a fish eye. Gasping, he says, “Shut the door.”
    “You can’t drink any more of that!” Denise says, running over to the bed. Cooper takes another sip from the bottle, and she makes a pass to grab it from him. “We need it!”
    “Fuck off,” he rasps, slapping her hands and turning his face. He gags and his face goes from red to purple. He has veins bulging on his neck, like he’s trying to force the blood in his body to go shooting out of the holes in his head.
    Denise says, “Oh my God, Cooper.” She tries for the bottle again, and this time he slaps her hand a good one. She pulls back. “You shit!” she yelps. “Nice. You hit girls now?”
    Cooper’s face is a grimace, and he puts the lid on the bottle and smiles drunkenly.
    “You want any?” Cooper asks, and she grabs the bottle.
    There’s only about a third of it left. She shakes her head. “Bretta is going to freak out when she sees this.”
    “I only took a couple swigs.” He holds up his hand, showing Denise an inch with his forefinger and his thumb. “It’s going to be shit putting Nancy and Allen out the window. I needed to take the edge off.”
    “It’s bad enough sniffing it.” Denise makes a face. “I don’t think you can drink it.”
    Cooper, wiping slime from his lips, shrugs and blinks, his eyes red and slow. “I think I just proved you can. Look. I’ll be fine.”
    “You don’t look fine,” Denise says. She leaves and walks the bottle back to Scott’s room, and instead of knocking, says, “Knock knock” and walks in. Bretta’s got the bandage off Scott’s wrist. The slash from the broken window is already an angry red thing.
    Denise hands the bottle of alcohol to Bretta. “That looks bad.”
    “Speaking of pretty bad,”