"Yeah, this is all baby fat," Eddie said, grinning, and reached over to squeeze Nancy's shoulder. "A couple of years it'll go away and you'll miss the pie you never ate."

"I should live so long," Nancy said ruefully. "You seen my mother?" A rhetorical question; they all had, and Mrs. Cannon was built along the lines of a beach ball.

"Naw, I'm not fooling you, Nancy. Here, this was me a few years ago." Eddie took out his battered leather bill fold and opened it to a picture of a boy, the picture half obscured behind a foggy plastic window. "That was me, I swear."

The handsome, muscular boy who sat next to Tamera had not been as bad as Nancy's mother, but close. He had triple chins and was standing self-consciously holding up his pants, which were obviously let out in the seams to accommodate all of his fat.

"Hey, you were cute, Eddie," Nancy giggled, taking the photo from Tamera. "Lover boy, all right."

"Yeah, well it all sort of dropped away when I started growing."

"And how much more growing do you think Nancy needs?" Jason asked with a smirk. "She grows any more, and Sophia Loren will be replaced for God's sake. I mean, look at her jugs, man."

"Jason!" Nancy said in mock shock, and then she giggled again.

"You've got a point there," Eddie said. "Or two."

"So what did you two cats have in mind for us tonight?" Tamera asked, wanting to steer the subject away from lewdness.

"How about a motel?" Jason answered, snickering.

"That's subtle," Tamera said. "No thanks."

"A motel," Nancy said, and giggled, nudging her boyfriend in the ribs. "You've got your nerve."

Tamera wondered for a moment just how much nerve Jason had – or needed. He was loose-limbed and relaxed in his manner, like a good-natured sloth, with a heftier chest expansion than Eddie, but without the overall coordination. He was simply pleasant and average, with an ordinary face whose only feature was small eyes set too close together that had a habit of nervously shifting around as if he were looking for somebody.