Stacey opened the refrigerator. Rory always kept a supply of Cokes for her in there; Diet, of course, but also some regulars in case she had earned one that day and not yet rewarded herself. To his surprise, she pulled out a can of regular now.

“What the hell,” she said. “I mean, really, what difference does it make?”

Rory stared at her. She had never said anything like this before. “What about Vesuvi?” he asked, regretting it even as he spoke.

“Vesuvi won’t hire me. You know it perfectly well.”

She was smiling at him, and Rory felt as if she had peered into the lying depths of his soul. “Vesuvi doesn’t know shit,” he said, but it sounded lame even to himself.