Chapter 9

Mikey gave his dad a big grin. “Pizza’s

here.”

With a wave of dismissal, Mr. Pierce motioned

to the boxes. “Take them in the kitchen, will you? Gently,”

he chided, as Mikey struck a table with his foot in passing. “Damn

it, kid. Try not to tear the place apart.”

I hurried into the kitchen and clicked on the

overhead light. From the doorway that led to the dining room, I

could hear the clatter of poker chips, the shuffle of cards, and

the click of beer bottles on the heavy wooden table. “Pizza,” I

called, though I didn’t have to—the moment the smell of hot cheese

wafted past me, I heard the benches scrape back and half a dozen

burly men piled into the kitchen. They were rough, unruly, smelling

of grease and alcohol and for the moment I stood in their midst, I

felt like a young god. An image filled my head, myself naked in

that kitchen, spread-eagle on the floor, these manly men nude as

they crowded around me, each dark with hair like fur and thick