”India laughed again. “Please. I'm not asking for what you can't afford.”“I can't do it, India. Be reasonable.”“Be reasonable? From the ma... who told me to skip breakfast and lunch? The man who's made a million times what he's paid me from my fucking tits?” India caught her anger and carefully suppressed it like she was screwing shut a bottle of perfume. She exhaled. “Fifty percent.”Simon looked at her tits. Even beneath her wool sweater, the shape was apparent. Men across the shop kept stealing. Gwen said to him, “You soundhappy, little brother. What are you humming?” Art shookhis head and laughed softly. “You don’t want to know”he replied. Gwen twisted her head to look up at hisface. “Don’t try to tell me what I want,” she said.“Would you have predicted tonight?”Art kept his memory of that first startled thought tohimself, and gallantly answered, “No, though I mighthave dreamt of it occasionally.” Gwen continued. More

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