She shook her head as he twisted the cap that looked like a helicopter rotor.
“How can you drink that stuff?” she asked as she sipped her Brunello.
Rocco threw his head back and squeezed the pouch, taking a big gulp.
“I like it. This one is Apple Pineapple Passion Fruit. How can you go wrong with that?”
“I’m too thirsty for red wine,” came Dario’s voice from the kitchen. “Do you mind if I have a GoGo squeeZ?”
“Go ahead.”
When Dario came out, Rocco nearly leapt out of his chair. “Wait a minute. What flavor is that?”
“Apple Strawberry Rhubarb,” Dario said, holding it up and about to twist off the cap.
“No!” Rocco shouted so loudly, Celeste spilled wine on her blouse.
“Damn it,” she huffed, going into the kitchen to rinse the stain.
Dario looked stunned. “What’s wrong with my having this one?”
“You can’t. I only have two left.”
“Okay, Dario,” Celeste shouted from the kitchen. “You have a choice between Pedal Peach, Boatin’ Banana, Happy TummieZ … How many of these do you have? … Oh, wait a minute, which of these can he have, Rocco?”
“I don’t care,” Rocco said, waving his arm. “He can have any of them. Just not Apple Strawberry Rhubarb.”
Celeste marched up to Dario, grabbed the pouch from him, and shoved another in his hand. “Here, have some Grippin’ Grape.”
She returned the Apple Strawberry Rhubarb to the refrigerator and then joined Dario on the sofa, picking up a magazine from the coffee table.
“What’s that?” Rocco asked.
Celeste flipped through the pages. “It’s the current issue with the photospread of you and Nico. They’re publishing a digital copy too, but I wanted to be sure Nico got one of these.”
“What about me?” Rocco asked. “Don’t I get one?”
“Can I have an Apple Strawberry Rhubarb GoGo squeeZ?”
“No.”
“Then no,” Celeste said as she flipped briskly through the pages. “And don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting,” Rocco insisted.
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re not even looking at me.”
Celeste sighed as she turned another page. “I was only kidding. I’ll get you one. Here it is,” she said, swiftly stopping and slamming her hand on the page, a huge smile spreading her cheeks wide.
“Hmm,” Dario said, looking over her shoulder.
Rocco frowned. “What?”
Dario lifted his eyes but not his head. “Just hmm,” he said, his eyes darting back to the magazine.
“No, Dar, not hmm,” Celeste said, “more like mm-hmm.”
