The Kings Of Cool

87

Diane sips her coffee and looks out the window.

At John’s house.

She pretends to vacillate, but she already knows what she’s going to do. Diane’s too honest to fool herself for long. Too honest not to acknowledge that she now feels justified by jealousy over Stan’s easy acquiescence to her manipulation, fantasy-fucking the teenage waitress, then unable to carry it all the way through.

Setting the cup on the counter, she walks out the door.

Warm spring morning.

Knocks on John’s door.

It seems like forever before he answers, but then he opens the door. His hair is sleep-tousled, his denim shirt unbuttoned.

Barefoot.

A cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hi,” he says.