Kelsey used the hotel wi-fi to watch make-up tutorials, for a new kind of eye-shadow she'd just bought. Nate used it to watch tutorials on how to hold, aim, and fire a handgun. Brody watched a bemusing video that Aurson had posted: a slopvid of him and his cronies, dressed as grim reapers, threatening immigrants and liberals. And indirectly, the rest of America, as well. As if it was a wrestlemash intro, and he was penciled in as the 'heel'. In a way, he was; as well as a lazy entertainer. He was everything the American people wanted, and not a single thing they needed. On the news, Manued Tusker was one again denying that his sieg heil was anything more than a Roman Salute, because he'd apparently been time-deported from 100 B.C. She could see why they wouldn't want him. But no, it was an old clip. The whole thing was so transparent, so tiring, that it was growing painfully clear: there wasn't a single low they could sink to, and not be given a rope right back out. It was a game of political limbo. The provocation was the point, a circus without bread to keep everyone looking hungrily at the big, fat, stupid hog in the center of the room. The people were the mice, corralled by rats who bit at their ears; flying monkeys blew horns in the name of their false king; and elephants stomped in fear of the mice themselves, while letting the rats climb onto their back. And the donkeys laughed, refusing to abandon their sidelined pen to step in and help. Fruston Gruckent, the ringleader of Project Reich, was given a direct shout-out by Don Wumpet as 'the brains of the operation', even calling him 'death itself'. By which he unknowingly meant, the central head of the Beast of Revelations. Fruston had already been publically interviewd on his plans to sabotage free speech, the internet, and access to average porn, as a means of control over the American public. He, like a rancher, was grabbing America by the balls. When Aurson let it slip whose hand was on those collective testicles, Fruston freaked. Within a day, the tories had pinned the entire operation on some unthreatening mook, who scarcely anyone had heard of. Not a single guppy could swallow that bait, not even the ones who'd spent their whole lives eating rocks.
Brody said out loud in response, "There are three things you can't take from the South: their guns, their trucks, and their porn."
Kelsey laughed a bit. "What about their wives?"
Brody laughed back. "Get 'em three beers, and ask again."
"I wouldn't," said Nate. "Let my wife go, that is. If I had one. I'm from the South, myself."
Brody blinked. "Are you really?"
Nate said, in an accent which suddenly became obvious, "Always been. I do tone it down for you northern yokels, though."
"So kind of you," Brody snarked.
"You know who I'd marry?"
Brody's stomach dropped. "...who?" But she already knew.
"Kelsey," answered Nate, with little hesitation and a deep-down pride. "I know you better than anyone now," he said to her. "I see you, for all your flaws and imperfections. And I think you're the one. Heck, I'd even kill for you."
"You already did," Brody flat-toned, unentertained. Kelsey blushed, speechless. She, laying on her stomach in bed, buried her face in the blanket.
Brody couldn't take it anymore, and got up.
"I need some air."
She stood outside the balcony door, leaning against the banister. After a few minutes, Nate joined her.
"Smoke?" he offered, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.
"I didn't know you smoked," Brody replied.
"Just started today," Nate laughed. "This is my first one. Wanna share?"
Brody sighed. "Sure."
Nate took a lighter from his pocket, and flicked a flame under his dart. It started to burn orange at the tip. Nate took a quick draw, then passed it.
"People don't usually share cigarettes," Brody commented.
"Nor love," Nate replied. "Yet, here we are."
Brody took a puff, then passed it back. "I suppose not."
Nate asked. "Do you intend to marry her, as well? I'd let you, even if the law didn't."
Brody decided to make up for the lack of honesty earlier, with some truth. "I don't know," she said. "You seem good for her, she likes you. I'm not sure she needs me, too, nor how she feels about me. And I still have feelings for Lista; her life, believe it or not, is in even worse shape than Kelsey's was. I might marry her, and leave Kelsey with you. If I can."
"Ohhh, yeah," Nate puffed, cig in his teeth like a cigar. "Buddy o' mine clapped those cheeks, once. Says they met in the subway, and he nutted in her ass. She was ridin' commando, know wh'I mean."
Brody laughed, in a sad, defeated way. "Of course, she was. I'll have to try and meet her that way, some time. When we get back."
"You don't care she's been fucked by older men?" Nate questioned. "Doesn't any of this... bother you?"
Brody shook her head. "No..." Then she nodded. "Yeah, actually, it does. Of course, it does. But people are who they are. I can't change them, not even myself. I always seem to snap right back into a person I can't stand. But there I am."
"There you are," Nate nodded, and passed it back. It was already half-smoked. "So you still chasing Lista, then? You never got any?"
Brody took a deep breath, and let it out. "We fucked in the bathroom, where she works. I cried, then I came all over her face and in her hair." Brody said it bluntly, and smoked.
"Damn," Nate remarked. "Remind me to come watch next time, I fuckin' love it when girls get it on. Specially chicks with dicks, nothing's hotter than seeing a lesbian cum all over another one. You really are one lucky sumbitch for that setup, you got there."
Brody smoked again, and passed it back. It was almost out. "You could say that. I get to see the world from both sides, masculine and feminine. Men and women really are so different, but they're also exactly the same. I just look for common ground."
Nate squinted, "I meant cause you can get fucked three ways at once, four if you count the mouth. But yeah, I suppose that's a blessing." He choked himself on the harsh side of the cigarette, all burnt out. Then he smacked it down on the ground, and rubbed it out with his shoe. He said, "My dad raped me, too, y'know. He just didn't use money to do it. His excuse was that 'mom didn't like anal'. Can you believe that shit? Like it was my fault."
Brody frowned. "I wasn't raped, I was coerced.And my problem is, I started to like it. But he's not an intimate person, like I wanted from him. Just a pseudosadistic jackoff. I need dick from someone who gives a shit about me, and pussy from someone I can give a fuck about. That's my problem."
"So you were fine with fuckin' yer dad?" Nate laughed.
Brody shrugged again. "He was hot. I liked his muscles, and the way he forced me but stopped when I asked him to stop. It got me off."
Nate shook his head, disgusted. "Yeah, well, my dad wasn't hot. Not no Crypto King, neither. Just a fat slob who drank too much, hairy as a dog's ass on the carpet. He didn't pay me shit, he just took. And so did yours, if you're willing to start lookin' into your heart and not your damn wallet."
Brody was offended. "Do you think I'm the type to-"
"A' course not," Nate grimaced. He looked sick, with stress. "It's not just you, it's goddamn... everyone. Whole world, railin' off about them Wipestain files, when we all know they're pullin' the same shit at home on a meager budget. Actin' like they ain't all the fucking same, like that's not what got them wantin' the orange oinker in office in the first place. They thought he was gonna pardon them, for fuckin' their own little kids at home. Make it legal or somethin'." He leaned over the banister. "Now, they figured out that don't work. So they're buttering him up for the cross, gonna sacrifice 'im for God to forgive all their sins. But brother, I tell you – he ain't worth no Jesus Christ. Not a fraction of that man. No, he's worse – because he's worth about a hundred of us. And for all those riches, not a penny more."
Brody nodded. "They took his rap sheet for a resumé."
"Precisely," Nate pointed to her, then spat on the ground. "That's why I came with you, to watch you make history. I've heard you talk, you could kill a man with those words of yours. But you make damn sure of it, you hear? Go for the fuckin' heart, kill the whole damn idea, put it in the goddamn ground. Don't make excuses like they do, don't let it back out. Don't let my dad, your dad, and all them fuckers win."
Brody frowned. "What about Kelsey's mom? Nate, you're being naíve. I'm sorry your dad was a piece of shit, but that's just how it is: kids get fucked, parents are dicks. We can't kill everyone who acts like a living thing, we just have to deal. Suffer what we're born with, then get out, and decide for ourselves what we suffer next. And you know what?"
Agitated, Nate entertained her, though he was clearly done with the conversation. "What?"
"Kelsey wishes her dad would have fucked her. Because he's a better man than both our fathers were. And I half-wonder how she would have turned out if he had." Brody was exasperated.
"Well, good for Kelsey," Nate sneered, and threw up his arms. "When I'm 'er husband, I'mma be 'er daddy, every night. And she's gon' be my lil' girl, and I'm gonna cum in her-" he humped the air," so hard, until we make another one. And if that little girl asks me one day, when she's old enough-" He paused, for his voice began to choke. "If she asks me, 'Daddy, can you fuck me?' ...well then, I just might do it. By your logic, it'll fix 'er good in advance, won't it?" Nate was in tears. "But not a minute sooner. You hear me? Not one second before."
Brody's gaze was cold. She wanted to cry too, but she couldn't. "Good," was all she could say. That was her problem, she realized. "I've been livin' too cold. And this warm-hearted son of a bitch makes me see it.'

Ten minutes later, they were back inside. Another cigarette had been smoked, in total silence. From her bed, Kelsey was waiting, and she smelled the air.
"Ew, you guys are smoking now?"
"Did you want one?" Nate struggled to ask.
Kelsey sensed the vibes were off. "Ummm... no. That's okay. So are we still gonna, like..."
Brody slapped her forehead. "Oh, yeah. The buttsex. I'm really not in the mood-"
Hearing that, Nate's sense of daring was activated. Like he lived to do the opposite of whatever Brody wanted. He pulled down his pants, and whipped out his dick.
"Oh, come on," Brody whined. "We were JUST talking about the most heart-wrenching shit-"
"Promises is promises," Nate replied, smug.
Ten minutes later, he was slamming Brody's ass like she owed him five grand. Which, had he not intervened, she might have. She sighed, and sunk her face into the pillow, having to bite it a couple of times. Kelsey tongue-kissed them both, back and forth. Then she crawled under Brody, so each of Nate's thrusts went vicariously into her. Nate into Brody, Brody into Kelsey. As Nate grunted from climax, Kelsey hugged Brody tight.
"I love you both, so much," she said sweetly.
Then, before she could stop herself, Brody cried.