“We can turn around right now, and go home. You can sleep over—”
“If either one of us gets in trouble, just do this,” she said. “And we’ll leave right away.”
I mirrored her, held my fingers up to my chin. The digital clock on Shamu’s dashboard read 9:45.
“Ready?” Fiona unlatched her seat belt.
“Remember, I have to be home by midnight,” I said.
“Home by midnight,” she said. “I won’t forget.”
* * *
? ? ?
The white boy who opened the door to 205 wore a black Raiders beanie. Tiny silver hoops dangled from both his earlobes.
“Sung’s UCLA friends? Come in, come in.” He stepped aside for us. “What’s your names? I’m Koala,” he said.
“Koala,” Fiona repeated. “Like, the marsupial?”
“Damn, girl,” he said with a laugh. “What’d you call me?” Koala threw an arm out and gestured at the guys who sat on one of the beds. “That’s Johnny, and the butt-ugly one over there’s Viet.”
There were two queens in the room, each covered by a pink comforter patterned with white conch shells. Pink ruffle skirts grazed the tan carpet, which still bore vacuum lines. A McDonald’s bag rested on the nightstand between the beds, the bottom stained by oil blots. A few crumpled napkins and balls of yellow wax paper lay scattered next to the bag.
“Got anything to drink?” Fiona’s voice brightened the room. “Should we take off our shoes?”
“We got vodka, tequila, pineapple rum,” said Viet. “We got ice. We got juice and mixers, whatever you need,” he added. “None of that nasty soju stuff.”
“Sure,” Fiona said cheerfully. “That’s why we came.” She elbowed me and whispered, “Smile, Jane. Why do you look like that?”
“Make them your specialty,” Johnny called out. “You never had Jungle Juice like Viet makes,” he added excitedly. “You’re in for a treat. Because this mofo straight up from the jungle!” Johnny cracked up at his own joke, slapping his knees.
“You so stupid, man,” Viet said, shaking his head. He turned his finger in circles next to his temple. “This guy did too many drugs in high school. He’s a walking billboard for Just Say No.”
Johnny was still laughing by himself, red with joy. “Did Sung tell you we’re related?” he said. “Cousins. He got the looks in the family, but I’m the smart one.”
Viet walked over to the kitchenette and opened the door to the mini fridge under the sink. He wore a tight white tank, and underneath the thin, ribbed fabric his nipples were visible, two dark coins on his chest. His black athletic pants rustled whenever he moved.
Of the three, Viet was the best-looking, with his hollow cheeks and brooding eyes. He had a thin, morose face, sculpted with hard planes like a marble bust. His entire head was shaved, except for a thin fringe of long bangs, which he wore combed back. One strand on the left side was bleached a dark orange color. Then Johnny, who wasn’t outright fine, but pretty cute, in a goofy way. I wondered if he really was Sung’s cousin, or if he’d said it as a joke. They looked nothing alike. The skin on his cheeks was riddled with tiny scars like the rind on an overripe orange, and he had a set of dark eyebrows that arched up dramatically, lending his face an amused, almost crazed expression.
Koala’s nickname was cruel in its accuracy, his beady brown eyes set too close together and that long, bulbous nose, which indeed seemed a shade darker than the rest of his face, just like the snout on a koala bear. Being the white boy of the group, though, Koala held a certain exotic appeal.
A thought came to me, unbidden: When Sung arrived, there would be four of them and two of us. And what would happen then?
“Are there more people coming?” I asked.
“You’re bored already?” Koala said.
“Sung said it was a party—”
“Oh we’re just getting started. Don’t you worry, baby girl.”
While Viet mixed our drinks, Koala invited us to make ourselves comfortable. “Get up, fool,” he said to Johnny. “Make room for the ladies.” Johnny moved to sit on one of the dinette stools, where Viet stood at the bistro table pouring from different bottles into five red cups. “I gotta get me a pair of breakaways like these,” Johnny said. He stretched out one of his legs and rubbed his foot on the side of Viet’s pants, along the row of white buttons that ran from waist to cuff. “Easy access, man. Snap! Bam! There it is!” He finished with a playful kick to Viet’s butt.