I’m seriously going to kick Lance’s ass.
A few are from last night. They don’t look nearly as bad—just me with the guys and a few bunnies taking selfies. But the one from today with the mostly undressed chick in her little bikini top sitting in my lap is damn incriminating.
Where the hell are you?
You better fucking call me.
I'm coming to your house.
Those last two were sent ten minutes ago.
Why aren't you here? You have a flight to catch!
I'm coming for you.
My phone rings as I finish listening to her texts. It’s Vi. Answering it is better than letting it go to voice mail again.
“I’m at Lance’s front door. Let me in.”
“What? How did you know I was here?”
“Because I’m psychic, and Instagram is my oracle. Now let me in. You are seriously interfering with my weekly orgasm quota right now.”
I have no interest in hearing more about that. I run down the stairs to the front door. Before I open it, I ask, “Is Waters with you?”
“Are you kidding? I left him at home. I’m not interested in reducing our sex life to conjugal visits. Besides, he’s too pretty for prison. They’d probably make him bottom because of his monster cock.”
“That’s more than I needed—”
“I don’t care what you need. I need Alex to not be pissed off. I can see you through the damn door. Open it.”
Violet is a small person. Maybe five four in heels, but she’s got an enormous personality to make up for her lack of size. I have a feeling I’m in for the verbal beat down of a lifetime.
“Should we shave your body hair so they can make wigs for the elderly?” she asks as soon as the door opens.
“What are you talking about?”
“After Alex kills you, you can donate your fur to charity. And maybe some of your more viable organs. I’m pretty sure everything but your liver is good. Ooooh, maybe they can use your micro-penis for a clitoris enlargement surgery.”
“This isn’t funny, Vi.”
“I think the brain surgeons would love to take a peek inside your head—you know, for science, so they can learn more about what happens when yetis and humans mate.”
I’m about to close the door in her face. She drops the sarcasm. “What the hell were you thinking?”
I step outside and close it behind me. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong? Are you serious? Did you happen to see the pictures I sent you today? Those aren’t even the worst ones. What’s wrong with you? And why haven’t you been answering your phone? Do you know how suspect that makes you look? Also, why aren’t you at the airport right now, catching your damn flight?”
“It’s not until nine, and it’s only, like, two in the afternoon. I’ve got lots of time.”
“It’s five, not two. And your flight leaves in an hour. You missed it.”
“But I checked—”
“Apparently not. Jesus, Buck. Isn’t this why you have a goddamn PA? Even your agent called me this morning when no one could get in touch with you.”
“Amber’s on vacation.”
“And she also knows how bad you are with dates. I can’t imagine her not putting an alarm on your phone, or calling or something.”
“My phone was giving me problems. I thought I had it all sorted out. I guess I got the times mixed up.”
Violet rubs her forehead. The giant, marble-sized diamond on her ring finger sparkles in the sun. It’s insanely huge. She expels a breath and looks up at the sky. She’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see her eyes. She swallows a few times.
When she speaks, it’s quiet and too calm. “I know flipping numbers is a thing for you, but it’s Sunny, for Christ’s sake. You should be on top of this.” She takes off the sunglasses.