Michelle was just basically background noise. She was bland and uninteresting, like most women that Greg wasn't sexually attracted to. It's not that Michelle wasn't sexy. Far from it, Michelle was in great shape. But she paled in comparison next to Rebecca. Greg found it hard to act interested in what Michelle was going on about. She was talking about being a nurse, her chosen profession. She had just gotten her medical degree. Rebecca interacted with her, to Greg's relief. Ben was all smiles. As more wine was drunk, the more canted that grin became.
    "Greg, thank you so much dude," Ben says with a slight slur, "you're making my dreams come true. My di-ygitial dreams, man. Know whattya mean?"
    "Have some more wine, dude" Greg says happily. The wine went down much smoother than beer, and didn't leave Greg feeling nearly as bloated. Plus, if Greg remembered correctly, wine had a higher alcohol content, so it messes you up more. Antioxidants were also a factor. Greg's mind wandered in buzzed abandon. He cared deeply for these people, even Michelle. As Ben's mate, she was part of the landscape. The folks in this room could do much.
    "Dinner's ready!!" Rebecca says, upon reentering from her stove check.
Everyone was pretty well blitzed, and ate scrumptiously. The lobster Lasagna turned out spectacular. Rebecca had made a sauce of butter and lemon, which played well into the pallete. The noodled layers were lined with that minced crab meat. Greg ate 4 plates. Ben had 5, and looked uncomfortable. Michelle and Rebecca probably had a combined intake of maybe 3 plates. There was still about a forth of the meal left.
    They grumbled into the living room. Sleepiness was ready to overtake them. Greg wondered if they would call it a night now. He looks over at Rebecca, to perhaps discuss the likelihood of an early night cap. Rebecca is talking quietly with Ben. Great. Greg supposed that meant he must chat with Michelle. Whoopty freaking doo.
    "Does anyone else feel like smoking some pot?" Rebecca asks excitedly. Greg turns toward her. He loved this woman more than anything in the world.
    Ben phoned Donny. Nobody had any weed, and they needed to reup their supply. Donny answered on the second ring.
"Yo," Donny says.
"Hey bro, whatcha doin?"
"Not a thing, just waiting to light up this blunt here,"
Greg can't believe his impeccable timing.
"It's funny you should mention that," Greg says with a huge smile.
   
    Gus gave Donny a ride over to Rebecca's. Greg didn't have to give too many directions, it was an easy house to spot. Donny was over there lickety split. Donny knew the anticipation of waiting for weed, and hurried as best he could.
    As Donny climbed out of Gus' cab, Greg remarked how well-dressed Donny looked tonight. He wore a black jean-jacket and matching pants. The red shirt was an intricate design of an angel on one side, and a devil on the other half of the right side. They look poised to battle for Donny's soul across his chest.  Donny goes out to talk to Gus, who declines the invitation. Greg sees Donny give Gus a $5 bill, most likely for gas. Gus shrugs, not taking it at first. But then he begrudgingly accepts the Abraham.
    Donny nervously enters the expensive home, following Greg. Greg can smell the weed wafting from Donny's pocket. The former bum offers a nervous grin to the gathering of well-dressed people. Rebecca is nervously wringing her hands, which rest in her lap. Greg studies her from the corner of his eye. He remembers her expression of fear in the van when she rescued them from the breakdown. It is good for her to see Donny in this different light. A bar of soap and change of clothes can make a world of difference.
    "Hello," Donny says softly. Rebecca waves light-handedly from her chair. Donny thinks to himself how uncannily gorgeous Rebecca is, and how lucky Greg is to have her. Donny would also take a bullet to be nearer to this beautiful doe. Almost any man would.
    "What's up, Ben?" Donny says, pounding his pals fist.
"Lookin' sharp there, Donny!!" Ben comments.
    "you're not looking too shabby there, yourself," Donny reciprocates.
"Are you hungry, Donald?" Rebecca asks, "we have food in the kitchen."
    "Lobster lasagna, dude," Greg says with gusto, "deliciouso."
    Greg and Donny wander into the kitchen. Donny stands patiently while Greg gets him a plate and spoon. Donny eats heartily.
    Rebecca leans against the kitchen wall, watching the two men.
"You can take home the leftovers if you want, Donald," she says.
"Thank you, Rebecca," Donny says, and feels the warmth Rebecca exudes, although he is still a stranger. She has that effect on people. Everyone, really.
    Donny wolfs down 3 helpings of gourmet cuisine like it is nothing. It will be a long time before he eats so well again, so he might as well get his fill.     Donny doesn't say much. It is nerve-wracking being in this woman's house, with weed on him. Greg told him it was her idea. But still. Where was the kid? Donny didn't want to ask. It might sway Rebecca towards abandonment of getting ripped. Now that Donny was full, it seemed a good a time as any to blaze one up.
    They sidle in the dining room. There is one chair short.
    "Oh, Donald, I can get you a folding chair, dude," she says animatedly. It has been forever and an age since Rebecca got ripped. She had always enjoyed how it made her feel. It was better than the depressing alcohol.
    "That's fine, Rebecca," Donny says, hunkering down onto the floor cross-legged. Rebecca shrugs. She's the hostess with the mostest. She wants everyone to be comfortable. 
    Greg tries to banter with Donny, but it's not really going anywhere. Without further adieu, Donny unceremoniously pulls out a bag of the stickiest of the icky, and a fat blunt.
    "What's the charge?" Greg asks, grabbing the bag and sniffing deeply. It felt like he was inhaling a frosty fog of THC crystals.
"Nothing," Donny replies casually, "It's on me, bro."
    They light it up. Greg hits it first, then passes it to Rebecca. Greg lets the smoke roll out of his mouth slowly. A sheepish grin is crawling across his face. Rebecca takes a large hit, but coughs only marginally. Michelle has a hard time hitting it. She is timid, and doesn't suck hard enough. She doesn't get a good drag, but passes it to Ben anyway. Ben asks if she wants to hit it again, and Michelle refuses. She is more of a drinker. She sips her wine, but looks slightly buzzed, even from that tinsey hit. She passes on the second round.
    Ben triple hits it. Nobody complains. Everyone is already stoned. A cloud of smoke encircles above them; a hippy halo. Donny gets the ass-end of the rotation, but he does not complain. Although he provided the weed, he is not feeling greedy. He owes Greg much. Donny is thankful Greg has kept their quarrels on the DL with Rebecca. She obviously has no idea what transpired between the two men. If she had, it would hardly be all smiles and welcomes for Donald Grieves.
    "So, I didn't mention it before, or anything," Rebecca says hazily, "But Greg here made a sale worth $4,000 and some change. Three cheers for Greg!! Hip-hip Horray!!"
    Rebecca continues the chant and all parties get involved.
"HIP-HIP HORRAY!!" they chant in a chorus, "HIP-HIP HORRAY!!"
Greg closes his eyes and basks in their encouragement. Rebecca grips his hand tightly. All the pieces were together now.

LINK TO PART 83: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/blogs/view/82634382/