Ava stops examining a turquoise necklace and looks at Ren.  “What does all that mean exactly?  What does it mean for Oscar?”

It means he’s nameless and penniless. 

Brigitte is staring at her and looks slightly mournful.  “It means Lita is already making the case to toss him out on his ass.”

Hearing it out loud is unsettling but Ren and Oscar have already talked about what they would do, where they would go.  Of course they were counting on having a few more resources at their disposal but Ren isn’t bothered by the idea of working hard, doing without.  As long as she gets to keep Oscar nothing else matters.

“Well,” she says lightly. “Lita never did waste an opportunity to be a bitch.”

Ava’s eyes are wide.  “You’d better watch out for her, Ren.  There’s something off between her and Oscar.  It’s like she hates him or something.”

“The feeling is likely mutual.”

Ava swallows and sinks down on the edge of her bed.  “Sometimes I think she hates you too.”

“Again, mutual.”

Bree pulls her shirt over her head and cups her breasts, pushing them together.  “Did you guys do it?”

“Who?  Do what?”

She grins sweetly.  “You’re such a shitty liar.  You fucked him, didn’t you?”

“Brigitte!” Ava squeals.

“What?  She can do it but I can’t even say it?  I am surprised, Loren.  I kind of thought you’d die a knee-locked virgin.”

Ren doesn’t react.  Bree’s just fishing like she always does.  She knows nothing.

“We haven’t done anything.  We’re friends.  And to hell with you and your filthy mind, Brigitte.”

“Don’t be pissed at me.  I just repeat what I hear.  Although it would be better if it wasn’t true, especially given all the circumstances.”

“All what circumstances?  So he’s not rolling in cash and his last name is a question mark.  So what?”

“I meant in light of who else he might have fucked since he got here.  Although if that’s true, his standards are disgustingly low.  Oh my god, would you stop with the face of shock every time I drop the F bomb?  Let’s all say it!  Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

“Fuck,” says Ava with a weak smile.

Ren feels slightly dizzy.  “Brigitte, you’re not making any sense.  You have not messed around with Oscar.”

“God no.  Not me.  And you can’t point the finger at Ava either.”

“Then what in the hell are you babbling about?”

Bree starts to talk, then seems to change her mind.  She glances out the window and sighs.  “Nothing.  It’s nothing.”

Ren’s had enough.  If she hangs out in here for much longer trying to dodge Brigitte’s outlandish crap there might be blood.  She rushes out of the room and ignores Ava when she tries to call her back.

When she reaches the hallway where her father’s study is, she hears voices and the sound of a slowly opening door.  She feels slightly idiotic ducking into the den and flattening herself against the wall but further family communication isn’t appealing right now.

The den is densely packed with the possessions of the dead.  Every once in a while August mentions clearing it out and letting Ren have it as a bedroom but that day will likely never come.  Ren finds herself wedged between an empty curio cabinet and the mounted head of an antlered creature that was probably felled by Rex Savage.

There are footsteps in the hallway and the murmuring of men.  And one woman.

Murmur murmur “of course” murmur murmur “rotten publicity” murmur murmur “good thing he isn’t a child” murmur murmur.  Then, nothing.

Once the men’s voices recede, Ren peeks out from behind the bristly animal head and sees Lita there alone, standing in the hallway, examining her reflection before a giant round mirror in a manner reminiscent of a gothic evil fairy tale queen.

But Ren’s stomach grows queasy when she sees the wide smile on Lita’s face.  On Lita, a smile is as natural as blue jeans on a cat.  She waits for Lita to quit admiring herself and move on before stealthily heading for the back door.  She wants out of this house.  She wants away from these people.  She just wants Oscar.

She finds him with Spence.  They are spaced about twenty yards apart, clutching shotguns and scanning the desert brush beyond the fake church.  Oscar has his shirt off and in Ren’s utterly unbiased opinion he is the hottest guy in the solar system.  He glances up as her shadow approaches and immediately breaks into a grin.  She’s so lucky.  What girl doesn’t pray to be smiled at like this?  Lita can issue threats until her face melts off.  Every lawyer in the country can drive their suits and phony concern to hell and back.  Nothing is going to pull them apart.

“Hunting rattlers?” she asks, turning her face up for a quick kiss and not bothering to check whether Spence is watching.  Spence continues combing the ground.  Spence doesn’t care who is kissing who.

“Yep.” Oscar shoulders the shotgun and circles his arms around her waist.

She loves being close to him whenever she can, every way she can.  She understands now what happens to people, how they lose all sense and reason when they fall as hard as this.

Oscar squints into the sun.  “Too many of them around here lately.  Someone’s going to take a bad step and wind up with a leg full of venom.”

“We have to talk,” Ren whispers.

Oscar doesn’t ask her what it’s about.  He just nods and calls to Spence that he’s talking off for a while.  He leaves Spence his shotgun and holds Ren’s hand as they head for the barn where it will be stifling hot but quiet.

There’s a place in the narrow loft they like to go when they need to be alone and can’t find anywhere else.  Spence’s tired old mare, Pet, chews lazily and seems to be listening as Ren tells Oscar everything about the lawyer and about Mina.

He seems rather unsurprised, or else he’s putting on a brave face for her benefit.  He tells her to stop talking and then sets her gently on her back for a long kiss.  She says nothing about Brigitte’s strange claim that Oscar has been with someone other than her since arriving at Atlantis.  It’s impossible.  He tells her every day that there will never be anyone else, never again.  She feels him pressing into her and wants to give him everything he needs.  She needs it just as much.  His strong hand moves over her skin, underneath her shirt and she arches her body, pushing him higher.

“You sick motherfucker!”

Oscar jerks and springs upright as sharply as if he’s been shot.  Ren furiously rolls her shirt down and dares to glance down into Monty’s raging face.  He’s not looking at her though.  Every ounce of his fury is directed at Oscar.  “Yeah, you better get your ass down here!”

Oscar jumps down and circles warily.  “Stay up there, Ren.”

“You think you need to protect my sister from me?  Is that what you think you shitty little punk?”

“Right now?  Yes.”

Monty swings.  He’s got a hard right hook but Oscar’s quick.  He manages to dodge sideways.

“Montgomery!” Ren shouts.  “You stop this right now!”

He flashes her a look that seems almost hurt, probably because in his mind he’s doing his lousy best to protect her honor or whatever from the predatory Oscar.

“I don’t want to get into this with you,” Oscar growls.  “Not right now.”  Then he sighs tiredly.  “Goddammit, Monty, haven’t we knocked each other around enough this summer?”

Monty thinks.  Then he smiles, a cold smile.  “No,” he says and his next swing is abrupt enough to connect with Oscar’s jaw.  Another guy would probably have been knocked over but Oscar just reels backwards momentarily and then rights himself, spitting out a quarter-sized bullet of blood.  Without pausing to blink he knocks his right hook against Monty’s jaw.    Monty curses, stumbling, and the two of them stand off, each ready to charge ahead and send the other straight to the next county.