“I’ll have you know I’m still a genius.”
“Oh, right. And ninety-nine percent of your IQ is dedicated to getting into trouble, and the rest is spent on ensuring that you can breathe on your own.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks, I’m happy with Paige.” He pauses. “Have you finally found a stripper to marry?”
“I have.”
“Is she hot?”
“Do you really have to ask?” She’s more than hot.
He pauses for a moment, then lowers his voice. “Can she actually talk?”
“Of course she can talk!”
“Okay, no need to get testy. Based on what you said before, it kind of sounded like you wanted a vegetable with nice tits and an ass.”
I almost snort, but his description isn’t entirely off-base. She was stiffer than a fresh cucumber on that stage where I first saw her.
And she does have the most incredible tits and ass. I can’t wait to get her naked. Wonder how sensitive s
he’ll be… Maybe I can make her come just by licking that area between her upper lip and gum. Some women can—
“You’re quiet, and now I’m worried,” Ryder says.
“Well, don’t be. She’s fully vocal. We’re getting married next week.”
“That fast?”
“Why wait? This isn’t about romance.”
“True enough. What’s her name? Honey Pott?”
This time I do allow myself to snort out loud. “No, you cliché-spouting idiot. It’s An”—I catch myself—“Gigi.”
“Pretty name.”
“Thought so too. Thanks for introducing us.”
“Huh? How am I responsible for this?”
“She came out of the cake you sent.”
“What cake?”
I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it. “The birthday cake! You said you’d send me one.”
“Oh, thaaaat.” He sniffs. “Well, I can’t take the credit here. Fact is, I forgot.”
“You…forgot?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well then who sent it?”
“No idea. Maybe Blake?”