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that actually is. But I don't like you getting radical just to get a rise out of me.”
    Tom chuckled.
    Wait a minute. “Tom…are you drunk?”
    “It’s well-meant in spirit,” Tom replied, stumbling just a bit over the words. “My old Jake and his nutty fun. He can be disorderly, sure. Told him not to…you know, bust into your room. Does it anyway, Jake. But you can count on that man for certain. Saved my life more than once, I can tell you.”
    “He saved your life? How?”
    Tom got to his feet, using the table for support, and started unsteadily toward his room.
    “Tom,” Lloyd began, also rising, but Tom waved him back.
    “Don’t need help,” he said.
    Sure enough, Tom got to his bed without mishap. There he passed out fully dressed and didn’t reappear till three hours later. He had showered and changed and seemed completely recovered; Lloyd found him rummaging in the fridge.
    “Ever since you came,” Tom said, agreeably, “I don’t know what any of the food is.”
    “Sit down and I’ll fix you something.”
    “Overshot my bolt,” said Tom, taking a chair at the big round table.
    “Who won? The game, I mean,” said Lloyd, starting a plate at the kitchen counter.
    After a bit, Tom replied, “Don’t rightly remember.” He stopped there, finally adding, “That’s a bad sign, blacking out.”
    “You’re entitled to slide every so often, I suppose.”
    “My daddy sure wouldn’t say so.”
    Lloyd poked around in the fridge, pulled out cutlery and napkins, unwrapped, washed, arranged. Tom looked on silently for a while, then said, “Jake really got to you, huh?”
    “It takes all kinds.”
    “Yeah, he’s not to every taste, old Jake. It’s like, there are various people you’d rather be with, because of being polite and enjoyable. But who knows if you can depend on them when you’re in trouble? That’s how I judge.”
    Lloyd went on working in silence, then set down a plate for Tom: quartered Courtland apples, St. André cheese, and Carr’s biscuits.
    “Now what?” asked Tom.
    “They opened a cheese and fruit store in the mall yesterday,” said Lloyd, sitting across from Tom with a cup of coffee from the pot that hummed all day. “It was one of those galas, with discounts and a local dignitary and tasting kiosks.”
    “What’s that mean?” asked Tom, poking at the food with his fork.
    “Free samples.”
    “Okay, but why is it apples with cheese?”
    “Tom, you are so…look. Just…just try it.”
    “Okay, boss.”
    “Boy. Now who’s rebellious?”
    Silence as Tom cuts and forks up the apple slices and smears gobs of cheese onto biscuits.
    “This is good,” he says at last. “Why are you so nice to me?”
    Lloyd just sits there while Tom cleans his plate.
    “I really liked that,” he says. “Is this how your friends eat? The rich kids?”
    “Yes, in fact.”
    “Lucy doesn’t know about it. I’ll have to tell her. Just a half-cup”: because Lloyd was pouring him some coffee. “Do they know about me? Your friends.”
    “They think you’re my brother.”
    “Well, there’s a puzzle.”
    Placing the milk carton and the sugar bowl next to Tom’s coffee, Lloyd said, “They were ragging on me for having a curfew, so I alibied. Living with my brother. He’s old-fashioned and he owns the house…you know.”
    “Guess I am, at that. Old-fashioned. ‘Cause of the family I come from.” Tasting his brew, Tom added, “This coffee really hits the spot after a heavy day.”
    “It’s funny to see you take it without a donut,” said Lloyd, stowing the milk and sugar. “They may drum you out of the cops’ union. Only we’re out of… What’s wrong?”
    Tom was on his feet, staring at Lloyd with a look of angry suspicion.
    Lloyd froze.
    “You come with me,” Tom told him. “ Now .”
    “Come…where?”
    Without responding, Tom turned and started off, and after a moment Lloyd followed. They entered Tom’s room, where Tom told Lloyd to sit on the bed. Looming