Free Stay with Me by Paul Griffin Page B

minutes.” She clicks the phone and turns to Vic. “Cheech says the yard’s packed already.”
    “You put out the word there’s free pizza and beer, what do you expect?”
    “And Independence Day cornbread,” Mrs. V. says.
    “And Independence Day cornbread,” Vic says. “Mack, which building is yours?”
    “I can jump out at the corner. You all go on ahead. I’ll be over there in a few.”
    “Nah,” Vic says. “We’ll pick up the dog and drive over together.”
    “Nah, man, I don’t want Boo stinking up your car.”
    “The car already stinks,” Vic says.
    “Better I walk her over for the exercise.” The car stops at a light, and I hop out. “I’ll see you all over there.” I turn the corner, and my old man is out on the stoop with his lady friend, and they’re good and twisted already, tipping rotgut forties and smoking a blunt in the broad daylight and arguing way too loud about God knows what.
     
    Me and Boo are at the gate to the yard. If she passes this test, I’m going to start leaning hard on Céce and Mrs. V. to adopt her. When we’re strolling the park, she’s a typical pit bull, real good with folks, especially kids. Today is about seeing how she does in a packed crowd. And this is a block party all right, music blasting, folks spilling out into the street. I open the gate and go in first.
    Boo’s eyes are soft, ears back easy. Her tail wags nice and slow.
    This lady says, “Get that dog away from me!”
    “She’s a peach,” Céce cuts in. She sets a big bowl of chips onto the picnic table to stroke Boo’s muzzle. “See?” she says to the lady.
    “You’re getting more relaxed around her every day,” I say.
    “Still a little freaked out when she tries to lick my face. My Boo-Boo,” she says.
    “No baby talking to her now.”
    She makes her voice really deep, “My Boo-Boo,” and that’s pretty funny to me. She takes my hand and introduces me to people. They’re nice. Her mom is smiling at us.
    The kids go crazy over Boo. She’s gentle with them, even when this one girl pulls her tail. She’s clowning too. She grabs a paper plate and taunts the kids to chase her to get it back. She’s tearing circles around the yard.
    “Wait,” I command her, but I’m not in her world right now. She’s all about having fun with the kids, and that’s when I know it for sure: She’ll be leaving me soon. I nudge Céce. “She’s ready to go.”
    Céce nudges back twice as hard. “We’ll see. You gonna be sad when she leaves?” Céce’s smile is crooked and she has nine freckles on her nose. I want to kiss them, each one.
    “Sad? Nah. I’ll have another beat-up Boo within the month.”
    Boo jumps into Mrs. V.’s lap for a belly scratch. Mrs. V. mouths to Céce I WANT THIS DOG .
    They have a tiny aboveground pool back here, perfect for Boo. Vic and the other old people are sitting around the edge, slow-kicking their feet in the water. They’re sipping and arguing and laughing. The sun’s high and clean, and the ripples in the water are gold bands almost too bright to look at.
    I could live like this, I think. If Céce was with me. She’s got the prettiest long brown hair. Her eyes are so dark and shiny you can see your reflection in them, and you look better than you do in real life. “Why you with me?” I say. We’re filling the ice tubs with two-liter Sprites. “You’re smart and crazy pretty and cool. Sometimes I wonder if you’re with me just to see what it’s like to go slumming.”
    “That’s got to be it. Let’s go inside. The basement. It’s cool down there.” She pulls me toward the back door to the kitchen.
    “I better not.”
    “You’re afraid to go inside my house,” she says. “Why?”
    Somebody taps a plastic fork on a plastic cup, and everybody does the same, and now it’s quiet, except the music is still on loud with one of those old-school metal bands. “I’m on the highway to hell,” the singer keeps screaming.
    “Just wanna toast Tony