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June told Jack where he could get tablecloths and gave him some money. She told him how many of each thing he should get. When I thought the amounts were pretty high, she said that some people would be back and forth for food three or four times and would get clean plates each time. And most of them would dump their silverware before they realized there was ice cream. Any who used cups would use a lot, especially kids.After Jack and Sara headed out, the three of us teamed up to make the potato salad. Mary and I went upstairs and scrubbed potatoes and put them in tin foil, then we broke up the broccoli and cauliflower, rinsed them and put them on plates. The pieces of carrot and celery got rinsed and went on plates, too, then everything was covered in Saran Wrap and stored in the refrigerator. We decided to hold off on the green salad until the last minute, but washed and cut all the stuff for the shish kebabs. By that time, the beef and prawns had soaked long enough and we put. And she does.”I breathed heavily through flared nostrils. “You live in my house,” I growled, “you eat my food, and you fuck my ex. Can you please at least do some fucking dishes?”She moved slightly towards me in a menacing way, then stood and stomped to the kitchen. I watched her stalking away, the back of her head, the black tank-top and green pajama shorts. I chugged my beer and sat there, listening to the running water and plates banging around, feeling the hot weight of our argument boring into me.Finally, I stood and walked to the kitchen, standing in the doorway. I could see her in profile, the slight frown on her face, the curve of her breasts and ass, her hands wet and sudsy. I could tell she was looking at me from the corner of her eye. And suddenly, something about her changed. It was nearly imperceptible - the angle of her hip, the arch of her back. I began to move towards her. I was drunk and buzzing with a visceral anticipation. Finally, I was standing behind her, so.
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