“GameStop’s closing!” calls Jolene when she sees us. “They’re having a huge sale!”

“Hey,” I say.

“Greetings,” greets Candy, bowing and raising a hand behind his back like a Matador. 

“Hi,” says Dee. Her sharp expression could shatter a knife.

Like an ingrained reflex, my eyes shift below Dee’s waist to measure indentations. But I quickly look away at the nearest wall of games. “Really, they’re closing?” I ask just to say something. I couldn’t really care less about GameStop.

“Yup!” beams Jolene. “So, we’re getting everything. Where did you guys go?”

“Uhhhhh…” I stammer.

“Regrettable… regrettable company, to be sure.” Candy tips forward again. He’s acting like a fucking weirdo.

“We met up with some guys who’re the exact opposite of Tin… I mean Tyler,” I say. “But just as bad as him, if not worse.”

From the corner of my eye I see Dee’s discomfort turn to frenzied concern, her eyes widening. She turns to her sister and whispers loud enough for Candy and I to hear, “How does Uncle X know about Tyler?!” She then looks at me like a smart-ass chicken might eye a crafty fox. But like always, she never quite looks me in the eye. 

“Uncle X drove me to Blythe and almost killed the little dipshit,” Jolene utters calmly, like she’s reciting ingredients in a recipe.

“He drove you to Blythe?! When?!” Dee’s now a spooked deer in hunting season with rifles going off every which way.

“Remember my Fresno trip?” Jolene grins. She’s clearly loving this.

“And you fought Tyler?” Dee asks me, still not meeting my gaze as I work to keep it from swimming down in her crazy-bountiful depths.

“I was gonna throw him down some stairs, yeah.” I can’t help but smile as I look to Jolene’s thrilled face for a green light to share. “In the end, the fucker wasn’t worth it.”

“I’ve never been in a fight,” Candy yaps.

There’s a few seconds of silence.

“No, I can’t imagine you in a fight,” responds Jolene at last, giving Candy a playful nod.

His face lights up.

“I didn’t know you and . . . and Uncle X did . . . did things together,” Dee stopstarts robotically, working hard to get the words in order and out.

“Yeah, we’re best fucking friends now,” Jolene fires back. “My goal is to get him laid.”

“WHAT?!” Dee shouts with the sudden intensity of a popped balloon.

“My word!” Candy elocutes.

“Jolene!” I plead. I’m sure my face has either lost all color or turned red as fucking ketchup.

“Yeah,” Jolene confirms, turning to examine the nearest wall of consoles, “he loves his wife, but needs to fuck someone young and hot, or he’s gonna feel like he’s missing out on life. No biggie. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Jolene!” cries Dee, blinking fiercely and shifting from foot to foot. “Stop!”

Jolene turns to Candy and says like an afterthought, “I’ll get you laid too. It’s cool.”

“By Golly…! Well, I never…!” Candy is clearly lost in some sort of loophole where his programming simply can’t accommodate the reality it’s now being bombarded with. It’s not his fault. What’s he gonna say, yes please!?

“We should go,” Dee answers flatly. I can’t really tell if the pained terror on her face carries a let’s go tell the cops and Caylee vibe.

“Dee!” Jolene’s eyes narrow. “You want to do this here? Now? Ok! Let’s do it!”

“What…?” Dee backs up, raising both hands.

Jolene cups her fingers around her mouth and cries, “YOU . . . HAVE . . . A . . . VAGINA! OK? PEOPLE . . . WANT . . . TO . . . FUCK . . . YOU! IF . . . YOU . . . WANT . . . TO . . . FUCK . . . THEM . . . TOO, IT’S . . . NOT . . . THE . . . END . . . OF . . . THE . . . WORLD!” She quiets down. “Alright? God!”

“I don’t...” Dee starts, her voice clipping. “...not until I’m . . . I’m married.”

“But even then?” Jolene presses.

“I don’t…”

“If you keep pretending you’re above it all,” Jolene huffs, “it’s gonna come back and bite you on the ass one of these days, I promise. Right, Uncle X?”

“Uhhhhh…” I stammer again. Of course a majority of my mind is occupied imagining biting Dee’s otherworldly ass, though I’m also weirdly aware of two similar power dynamics at play right now in this failing game store. Just as I’ve (reluctantly) got Candy following me to learn how to not be an incel douche, it seems Jolene is taking on something of a mentor role with Dee, her older sister.

Jolene’s eyes narrow in disappointment, obviously because I didn’t back her up. But I, like Candy and Dee, am still trying to find some damn grounding after being whipped all around by Jolene’s fucking tornado of relentless revelations.

“Candy,” I begin, not a hundred percent sure where I’m headed, “maybe we could start with you. You want sex, right? It’s ok to be sexual, and admit that to yourself and others?”

“Nnnnnooooooo!” he trumpets, and I swear his tone glitches and distorts like he’s trying to garble his discomfort right out of existence.

I sigh.

Jolene looks at me again. There’s no way I can get out of this. Either I am her fucking friend, and all that shit with Tyler and afterwards meant something, or I’m even more of a worthless fuck-bag than I thought.

Y’know, I could so easily throw myself from a roof (I bet I’d even enjoy the view). But it’s like letting Jolene down is just outside the bounds of possibility for me. I have to speak up, even if I do get fucking arrested or whatever, and this tears up the whole family, and Candy goes back to sucking Jeeter’s putrid female-hating schlong. “I want sex,” I almost whisper. 

Jolene’s eyes close in what has to be relief and pride. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” she utters slowly. “It’s when you try to make yourself act like the desire isn’t even there…” She gestures to me, essentially handing off the baton.

“I was planning to kill myself,” I’m astonished to hear myself admit to these three young folks, “just because of how much I wanted sex, and how hopeless and bad it made me feel about myself.”

“I…” Candy begins, his voice no longer deep and pretend, and his face adopting that same must-follow-my-conscience-even-unto-death look it took earlier outside the Starbucks. “...I want sex.” He lets out a breath that sounds as if it's been trapped in his chest for decades.

We all turn to Dee.

Dee’s eyes hit the floor. Her knees clamp together, and arms lock out straight at her sides. 

You might think I’m fucking disgusting (what else is new?!) but part of me gets revved up knowing this would be the perfect opportunity to scope her momentous T&A just to give my mind some fresh snapshots for fantasies later. But I don’t, because another part recognizes her posture as that of a scared little girl being forced to face her deepest fears, stepping into darkness or to the very edge of a cliff.

“I…” says Dee, but chokes back the rest. Tears appear at the sides of her restless, tormented eyes. 

“Y’know,” says Jolene, “when Uncle X and I were in Blythe, I took off my clothes and practically begged to fuck him in his car in a parking lot.”

“WHAAAAAAT?!” Dee seethes. “How could you…?!”