Jordan
“Can I have a Fuzzy Navel?”
I glance over and see April Lester standing at the bar between Grady Jones and Rich Hensburg and staring at me expectantly. I nod and finish stacking the rocks glasses I’d just washed, then reach over and grab the bottle of Schnapps.
“So, you coming home with me yet?” Rich asks April, giving her a skeptical little scowl.
Grady chuckles softly, while I smile to myself. April just turns away, looking annoyed.
All these people are regulars. April usually doesn’t go home alone, and everyone knows it. Rich only half jokes to save face when she constantly refuses him, though. Old, it seems, is her only hard limit. Anyone else is fair game. It doesn’t hurt for him to keep trying, I guess. Might get lucky one of these nights.
Not that I begrudge her. What do I know? She’s a good customer, and she tips well, after all. I just can’t help but keep an eye on her when Cole is around. I’ve seen her go after married men, so someone’s boyfriend certainly won’t faze her.
I finish pouring the orange juice and set out a napkin before placing the drink on top of it. She grabs a straw and takes her glass. “Thank you,” she sing-songs and immediately turns around, taking a sip as she walks back to her booth.
I watch her go and see her slide in with two other men I’ve seen around before.
Sometimes she makes me think of my mom. I’m not sure why, they look nothing alike. My mom was a blonde—is a blonde—and April is a brunette. Hair so dark brown it almost looks black.
But they’d be around the same age. April has to be pushing forty and dresses like I remember my mom dressing. Short skirts, billowy, silk tank tops, jewelry, and six-inch heels.
Like Cam. My sister inherited my mom’s sexy style.
I wonder if my mom has settled down with someone or if she still needs that freedom she craved so much when I was seven. I don’t miss her. I barely remember her. But I do still wonder about her.
Reaching behind me, I mark a tally on April’s tab for her drink and grab a towel to finish drying the glasses.
But then the front door swings open and a voice booms, “Shit, it’s dead in here.”
I look up, the hair on my arms instantly standing on end. My boyfriend enters with a few of his friends in tow, but it’s the all-too-familiar voice leading the pack that makes my skin crawl.
Jay McCabe, my ex-boyfriend, walks in, slowly and taking his time, entering a room like the star quarterback he was in high school and still waiting for a fucking applause. It’s funny how he got less good looking the more I got to know him. My spine goes steel-rod straight, and awareness makes heat spread up my neck.
Cole strolls in behind with a couple guys, and Elena Barros trailing them, and I see his arched brow and the slight snarl on his face as he glances at Jay and then looks over to me.
They don’t hang out, but they will find themselves at the same parties sometimes. My guess is Jay headed here with his pack and Cole followed to make sure I’m okay.
Jay scans the room and then his eyes lock on me, a little smile curling the corner of his mouth. I immediately avert my gaze, my stomach rolling.
I try to pretend he’s of no consequence anymore, but I think he knows he won. He should be in fucking jail after what he did to me, and he’s not, because two years ago, I was scared and pathetic.
I wish someone would hurt him.
And even better if that someone turns out to be me.
Cole strolls over while his friends walk around, chatting up people they know. He swings up the partition and comes behind the bar, an apologetic look on his face as he comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my fist wrapped in a towel and wiping the inside of a glass.
I feel him shrug. “Haven’t seen you. Just missed you.”
I breathe out a laugh, trying to relax my stiff body. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me at work.”
He nuzzles my neck, and we both know he’s just worried about Jay being here.
I put my hand over his, feeling the small scar on his thumb, and inhale his clean scent. He looks fresh and good-looking, a lot better than he did this morning. No one can shake off a hangover like him.
“You know, it’s bad for business if her boyfriend is hanging around,” Shel warns, walking by in front of the bar and setting down a tray of glasses.
Shel fancies herself like the bar owner in the Coyote Ugly movie. ‘You are to appear available but never be available’ type thing. The problem is this is a dirt bar in a small town, so either way, the tips won’t set any records. Whether or not my boyfriend is here.
Cole snuggles my neck, and I smile, feeling safe against the wall of his body. His friends’ voices carry as the level of noise heightens in the room, and I glance up at the clock, seeing it’s nearly midnight.
And it’s Wednesday night. Cole has work in the morning.
I draw in a breath, turning my head to look up at him. “You know, we couldn’t really afford for you to lose those hours today,” I tell him.
And if he’s out tonight, chances are he’ll call in tomorrow and lose more pay.
We still have bills from the old apartment that need to be paid, and I’ll do my fair share, but he’s damn-well helping. If he misses another day, I’m going to get loud.
But he just gazes down at me thoughtfully. “I’m not stupid, babe,” he assures me. “I already know everything you want to say to me, okay?”
“And you know you’re damn lucky to still have your license, right?” I jab at him some more. A DUI on his record is the last thing we need, and he tempts fate constantly.
Especially after everything that’s happened. How can he be so careless?
I glance down at our scars again, remembering.
“What would I do without you?” he says, his breath tickling my ear.
I jerk away. “Your own laundry, probably.”
But he just laughs, tightening his hold around me. “I’m sorry I’m a loser.”
“You haven’t always been.”
He cocks an eyebrow at my dig and walks me back into the bar, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m good at a few things, though, aren’t I?”
He tips my chin back and dives into my neck, his hot mouth kissing and biting.
Chills spread up my arms, and I gasp. “Cole…”
Ok, yes. You’re not completely terrible at everything.
He’s always been able to make me smile, and he’s a good kisser. I just wish he’d do it at home more. He hasn’t been touching me a lot lately.
And now he’s going out again tonight.
I turn my head, kissing him and hungry for the connection, but then I quickly pull away, pushing him off with a grin. “Not here,” I scold.
I twist around and clear a couple beer bottles off the bar, tossing them away.
“I am really sorry, you know?” he says in my ear. “I didn’t mean to get us kicked out of there and in this situation with my dad.”
I nod, pretty sure he means it. He’s good people, and I’ve seen him at his best. Right now, he’s in a rut, but he stood by me when no one else would, so I want to believe he’ll get on track.
I glance over at Jay, remembering how Cole was my only friend left after I broke up with that asshole. Everyone else took Jay’s side.
“So is my dad being nice to you?” he asks, pulling away and releasing me.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t he be?”
He shrugs. “Just making sure. He used to be kind of a dick back in the day. Cheated on my mom a lot, which is why we don’t get along.” He pauses and then adds, “Just to explain the tension you’re probably feeling between us.”
Cheating? Why didn’t he tell me this before? Jesus.
That doesn’t seem like Pike at all, though. He doesn’t strike me as that shallow.
But people grow up and change. Maybe he was a different guy twenty years ago.
But wait…
“I thought you said your parents broke up when you were two,” I ask.
If he was that young, how would he remember that?
“Yeah.” He starts walking back for the end of the bar. “I just know what she’s told me. It wasn’t pretty apparently, so don’t take any shit from him. He likes to push women around, which is probably why he’s still single.”
Well, his dad did look dumb-founded earlier today when he tried to tell me to stay home, and I got back in his face. I think he’s used to people following his orders. Cole’s last statement kind of rings true.
“We’re going to hit the Cue,” Cole tells me, swinging open the partition and walking through to the other side of the bar. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Don’t be too late,” I say quietly.
His shift doesn’t start until ten tomorrow morning, but I want to see him when I get home. We didn’t get much time together today.
He and his friends trickle out the front door, heading to The Cue to play some pool, but Jay cast a look back at me as he heads out the door, too, putting his arm around Shawna Abbot. His eyes drop down to my chest and then come back up, leering at me with one part desire and three parts threat.
And for two years it’s been just that. Me taking whatever gross looks he throws my way for fear of pushing him into action again. He’s left me alone, otherwise, so I just avoid him and pretend he’s not there.
Both groups leave, deciding to find their fun elsewhere, but before the front door has a chance to close, my sister saunters through, a couple of her co-workers tailing behind her. Every eye in the room turns their way, taking in the hot women in their tiny tops and high heels.
Sammy Hagar’s The Girl Gets Around plays on the juke box, and Cam heads for the bar, holding onto the edge and doing a little dance while lip syncing to me.
She’s a trip.
“All done already?” I ask over the music, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I’m not off for at least another hour.”
“That’s fine.” Cam waves me off as she reaches around and grabs the rum out of the well and the clean rocks glass in front of me. “We need to chill out before we head home to bed anyway.”
She pours one shot, replaces the bottle, and takes the soda gun, filling her glass with Diet Coke.
I pluck the scoop out of the ice bin and add a few cubes to her glass before I move down the bar, checking on the customers.
I replace Grady and Rich’s beers, get a refill for Shel’s husband playing video poker, and mix up three Cosmos for a few ladies who left their editions of Deepak Chopra’s The Gift back at their booth which they bring every week, so their husbands think they’re actually in a book club meeting.
“You want to jump behind here?” Shel shouts to Cam. “I need to restock beer.”
She shoots Shel a look, but she gets up and comes behind the bar. Shel charges down the hallway where the cooler and beer is stored.
“Empty out the tips and start the jar over,” I call out to my sister at the other end. “You don’t get a share of mine.”
She laughs, looking at me smugly as she puts her hands on her hips. I turn to mix a Screwdriver for another customer, and the next thing I know there’s a fat roll of cash in my face.
“Like I need your dimes and nickels, babe,” she replies smugly.
My eyes go wide, and my mouth hangs open as I gape at the wad. “What the hell?” I grab it out of her hand and fan the bills, seeing lots of ones but an impressive amount of tens and twenties, too.
“That’s what making your rent in one night looks like, honey.” She snatches it back out of my hand. “We had a bachelor party.”
Lots of drunk guys showering money. I watch her slide it back into her back pocket and frown at the gleam in her eye. It makes sense she makes a hell of a lot more than me. I work in a bar. She works in a club. She entertains. I pour drinks.
It must be nice, though, to go home tonight, knowing you can pay your bills tomorrow. That you can go to the grocery store and put whatever you want in your cart.
I look up and meet her eyes, and I can tell she’s thinking the exact same thing. It could be easier for me, too, if I take her boss up on his job offer.
I won’t make as much as my sister as a bartender there, but I’d make more than here.
But while The Hook may offer fast money, nothing about that place is easy. Men look at Cam like a free meal, and she puts up with a lot of shit.
Still, though…I’m tired of worrying about money every damn day.
I go back to work, but I can feel her eyes on me. She thinks I’m a hamster on a wheel.
“Just shut up,” I mumble.
She snorts. “I didn’t say anything. Not one single thing.”
“Thank you,” I say, climbing out of Cam’s Mustang just over an hour later. I fold up the front seat and grab my bag from the back, quickly glancing over my shoulder to see if Cole’s car is in the driveway.
It’s not. Just Pike’s truck.
I shake my head.
“You don’t work tomorrow, right?” Cam asks.
I turn back. “No, but I do Saturday night. I’ll text you my schedule later.”
“Okay.”
I slam the door and dig in my pocket for the house key. “Love you. Bye,” I call out.
“Oh, I bought something for you, by the way!” Cam shouts through the open passenger side window. “Look in your backpack when you get into your room. Test it out. See how it feels.”
I stop, turning halfway around and thinning my eyes on her. “Not another vibrator…” I whine.
She throws her head back and laughs at the present she gave me for my eighteenth birthday last year. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t let me open it in front of a party full of people.
“Not that,” she says. “But it’s definitely something you and Cole can enjoy together.” And then she jerks her chin toward the dark house behind me. “Or, um…perhaps the man of the house might like it, too. The other man of the house, I mean.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I shoot her a dirty look. “I don’t even want to open the package now.”
“’Night!” she taunts and pulls away from the curb.
Jerk. I love my sister, but she knows how to embarrass me.
After unlocking the front door, I step inside, push it shut behind me, and twist the lock again, looking around the dark living room. It’s tidy, and I walk past the entrance to the kitchen, taking in the single, small stove light left on the way I appreciate. The sink is empty of dishes from what I can see, and I exhale, loving the feeling of coming home to a clean house.
I trail up the stairs, the house giving off an eerie silence around me. Walking down the dark hallway, I lift my head and see Pike’s bedroom door straight ahead of me. It’s closed and no light shines from under the door.
I swing open the first door on the left and flip on the switch, discovering what I already suspected. The bed is empty. Cole’s still out.
I drop my bag, closing the door quietly and pulling my phone out of my back pocket.
I’m home. Where are you? I type and wait for the three little dots to pop up, showing me he’s replying.
But after a few moments, nothing happens, and I toss my phone down on the bed.
He has to be at work in eight hours, and he better be going. Otherwise he’s not coming with me when I save enough to get out of here.
I kick off my shoes and head toward the bed, ready to plop down and get off my tired feet, but I stop, remembering the “something” my sister said she put in my bag. Turning around, I pick up my satchel and unzip it, setting it on the bed. And there, right on top, is a pink-striped shopping bag I didn’t put there. It’s from Victoria’s Secret.
Unrolling the package, I reach inside and instantly fill my hand with fabric. I suppress a groan, my wishful thinking dying. I pull out the lacy, cream-colored panties and matching camisole that doesn’t look big enough to cover much. The cleavage is low, and the top’s not even long enough to cover my stomach.
It’s definitely pretty. And sexy. But it’s skimpy as hell. Cole would have a field day, coming to bed to find me in this.
No foreplay. He’d be on top of me in a second.
But why did she buy me this? It’s not like I don’t wear sexy underwear. I don’t need lessons in how to keep a guy interested, thank you.
But then I notice a piece of paper laying on the bed that must’ve been in with the clothes. I pick up the half-sheet and read the flyer.
Amateur Night!
Get Wet! (Your T-shirt, anyway)
May 27 at 9 p.m.
The Hook on Jamison Lane
Grand Prize $300!!
“Great.” I laugh under my breath and drop the flyer and clothes, shaking my head. My own sister is trying to turn me out. What the hell is the matter with her?
I’m not showing every old skeeze in town my boobs for a chance to win three hundred bucks. I can work at Grounders, because I do enjoy some of the people, listening to music, and having a job where I earn tips, so I have a little cash on me after every shift, but there’s nothing about a wet T-shirt contest I’d enjoy unless I was drunk. Maybe.
I make sure the blinds are closed and pull off my T-shirt and unbutton my jean shorts. Letting everything fall to the floor, I reach behind and unsnap my bra and then reach into the bureau for a T-shirt.
I stop, though, and eye the new lingerie lying on the bed. Cole might be sorry he stayed out when he comes home to see what he missed.
Pulling off my panties, I reach over and grab the new underwear and gently pull on everything. My coffee cup of pens and pencils sits on top of the dresser, and I reach over and pull out the scissors, cutting the tags off everything.
Standing in front of the mirror, I fluff my hair and comb my hands through it, adjusting the fabric on my hips and my breasts in the wireless cups. I turn around, looking in the mirror over my shoulder.
I can’t help the smile that peeks out. Cam isn’t stupid, is she? It’s the perfect color on me, my base tan already in full swing. The panties sit perfectly on my hips and even without much support in the top, my breasts sit perky and flattering. I run my hand over my smooth, flat stomach and up the curves of my waist, wishing someone was here to appreciate the view and make me smile.
A pool of warmth settles between my thighs, and I can’t help but think how a simple change of clothes can make you feel a world of difference. I brush one of the straps off my shoulder, loving how sexy I feel. The pulse in my clit starts to throb, and I’m definitely in the mood now.
Hooking the strap back on my shoulder, I grab my phone and text Cole again, noticing he still hasn’t texted back.
I kind of need you right now, baby. *wink wink*
I wait, but the three dots still don’t pop up. I start the Spotify app on my phone, playing Run to You, careful to keep the volume low as I fall onto the bed.
I’m wide awake now.
And turned on.
Closing my eyes, I let the music course under my skin and slowly drift through my fingertips, down my thighs, and back up the inside of my leg, tickling the flesh until goosebumps rise. Gently cupping myself between my legs, I roll my hips and rub, my blood starting to heat up and my heart pumping faster as my clit tingles.
I moan, feeling my hardened nipples chafing against the lace. My other hand takes a breast and squeezes it as I twist my head to the side, my hair falling in my face.
Sometimes I wonder if I could ever do what my sister does. When I see all the money she brings home, and I’m tired of the worry and the stress, could I just do it?
I flip over and push myself up to my knees as I lean over with my hands on the bed between my thighs. I press my arms into my breasts, forcing them together, full and about to pop out of the top. Rolling my head, my hair caresses my back as I keep my eyes closed and start to grind to the music.
No, I can’t do what she does. I don’t want lots of men watching me.
But one man? Like a boyfriend? A man who craves me and who’ll watch me with possessive eyes as I dance for him....
He’s watching me. I’m in a dark room, a glossy, white stage under me, and a soft purple light on me. I move onto all fours, crawling and biting my bottom lip as lean forward, spreading my thighs and my knees pressing into the floor as I hump the stage.
He’s in the back, so far away, but he’s there. He’s the only one there. I’m all for him. He hides in the shadows and leans his shoulder into the wall as he watches me. I roll my hips slowly, taunting and teasing him, and then move back onto my knees, grabbing the headboard to hold onto as I dance and grind.
The strap of my top falls down my arm, and I cup my naked breast, looking over my shoulder at him. The cigarette—or cigar—in his hand hangs at his side, burning a stream of smoke into the air. But he seems to have forgotten about it as he stares at me.
It occurs to me Cole doesn’t smoke, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes.
I want him to see me. I want him to want me. I feel him want me, and I like it. God, I like it. Keep watching me. I wonder what his mouth tastes like. What do his teeth feel like? My nipples tighten and harden, craving a mouth.
I’m gonna get you off. Keep watching me. Keep watching me.
I lean back on my hands, rolling my hips faster and harder, and I can feel my skin growing wet with sweat as I rub my pussy and move my ass for him.
Only him.
“Oh, God,” I whimper, feeling my orgasm crest. “I’m coming, I’m coming…”
But then a loud slam echoes through the house, and I pop up my head up and open my eyes. Shit!
I freeze, listening. The floorboards in the hallway creak, and someone moves down the hallway and then pounds down the stairs. I hop off the bed in a hurry, in case it’s Cole.
I wouldn’t have woken his father, would I? That was so stupid! What if the bed was creaking?
Shame burns like fire on my face, and I inch toward the bedroom door, cracking it open for a peek. The hallway is still dark, but I can hear talking and then a door slams shut downstairs.
I frown. Stepping across the hallway, I quickly hide in the bathroom and close the door. Keeping the light off, I go to the window and pull open one of the shutters.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind being woken up for this,” I hear Pike say, and I peer out to see him standing next to the pool, talking on his phone. “Babies are unpredictable. Take whatever time you need. We’ll be fine for the next few days.”
He’s dressed in gray lounge pants but no shirt, and I see him rub his hand over his scalp as he yawns. My shoulders relax a little. The call probably woke him up.
He nods at whoever is talking on the phone. “Shoot us all a text when the kid is born. Congrats, man.”
Then he chuckles, and my muscles relax, so grateful. That would’ve been embarrassing if he’d heard me.
I move to close the window again, but I see him grab something out of a dish on the garden table and put it in his mouth as he continues listening to whoever is on the phone.
I stop, my eyes widening as I watch him light a cigar butt. The hair on my neck stands on end, and my pulse races. I yank the shutter closed, not caring if he hears me.
What the hell? I haven’t seen him smoke. Why would that have popped in my…?
I charge back to my room, close the door, and pull off the lingerie. Donning a T-shirt and boy shorts, I turn off the music, the light, and climb into bed.
Cam and her stupid, damn subliminal messages and shit. Thanks a lot.
“Hey, Corinne. Is my dad home?” I ask into the phone.
I hear my stepmom move on the other end, a screen door creaking open. “Chip!” she hollers, her voice raspy from years of smoking. “It’s Jordan!”
The door creaks shut again, and I think I hear the fryer going in the kitchen. I can almost feel the grainy linoleum under my feet from here. I’m so glad to be out of that trailer, even if it means mooching off Cole’s dad.
“You need money?” she says as I wait for my dad to come to the phone. “’Cause we don’t have any. Your dad threw out his back and missed some work a couple weeks ago, so things are tight right now.”
I blink. “No, I…” I stammer, aggravated by her question. “I don’t need money.”
And they would be the last people I’d ask if I did. My father never has cash for more than a day before it’s burning a hole in his pocket. One of the many reasons my mom ran out.
But at least my dad stayed.
“Chip?!” she calls again but then growls at the dogs. “Get out of the way, you two.”
I shake my head, the previous suspicion that a text would’ve been better now solidifying. If my dad does make it to the phone, I’ll just hang up feeling pissed off that he’s about as warm as this woman. Thank goodness she wasn’t my stepmom for long under that roof. I left as soon as I could.
“I just wanted to let you all know I moved,” I tell her. “In case you need my new address.”
“Oh, right, right.” I hear her suck in and know she’s smoking. “You moved in with Cole at his dad’s house. Yeah, we heard.”
“Yeah, I—”
“Chip!” she screeches again, interrupting me.
I hood my eyes, exasperated already. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “That’s all I called for, so don’t bother Dad then if he already knows. I’ll…talk to you later.”
“Okay.” She blows out smoke. “Well, take care of yourself, and I’ll call in a week or so. Have you over for dinner or something.”
My body shakes with a bitter laugh I hold back. It’s not funny. It’s sad, really. But she hangs up without waiting for me to say ‘goodbye’, and I let out a sigh, tossing my phone on the bed.
Neither my dad nor stepmom are bad people, although no one called on my birthday, either.
I was never hit or starved or verbally abused. Just kind of forgotten, I guess. They struggled for anything good in life, so it was too much to ask to let responsibility or concern for their children interfere with what tiny pleasure they managed to muster with their beer and Bingo nights.
After Cam left and got her own place, I had no one to talk to. I was nobody in that trailer, and I never want to feel that alone again.
I pick up my notebook from the bed and resume the homework from my summer class that day. My textbook lays open in front of me, and I click my mechanical pencil to get more lead.
A knock sounds on the bedroom door, and I pop my head up, tensing.
“Come in?” I say, but it sounds like a question. Cole wouldn’t knock. It must be his father. Did I leave laundry in the dryer? The stove on? I go through my mental checklist.
The door swings open, and Pike stands there, holding the knob but keeping himself planted in the hallway.
“I’m ordering pizza for dinner,” he tells me. “Is Cole going to be home soon?”
I fiddle with the pencil in my hands. “One of his friends got promoted at the cable company,” I explain, “so they’re having a party out at his dad’s farm. I’m sure he’ll be pretty late.”
He stands there a moment, his large frame filling the entire doorway. My eyes keep darting to the tattoos on his arms, so I just look back down, pretending to be absorbed in my work.
“You’re not going?” he presses.
I hold out my hands, gesturing to the homework in front of me.
He nods, understanding. “Well…” He eyes me for a moment, looking uncertain and then continues, “you gotta eat, too, right? What kind of pizza do you like?”
“No, that’s okay.” I tell him, shaking my head. “I already ate.”
His eyes drop to the plate with the half-eaten peanut butter sandwich on the bed, and I know what he’s thinking. “Okay.”
He moves to close the door but then stops. “You know you don’t need to hide up here, right?”
I look up, straightening my spine. “I’m not hiding.” I laugh a little for measure, but I think he’s on to me.
“You’re doing chores,” he states. “You’re paying for your right to be in the house. So if you want to use the pool or have a friend over or like… leave the bedroom, it’s fine.”
I lick my dry lips. “Yeah, I know.”
“Okay,” he finally says. “I guess I’m eating the pizza all by myself then. I’ll have leftovers for days, as usual.”
He sighs, sounding extra pathetic.
“Don’t order a large then,” I mumble, staring down at my notebook again.
But his quiet chuckle before he closes the door tells me he heard my smartass comment.
I’m sure he’s ordered plenty of pizzas in all the years he’s lived here alone. He’s just trying to be nice and make me feel welcome. Which is great of him, and I appreciate it, but it still doesn’t make me feel like any less of a freeloader. I can’t let him buy me pizza, too.
And I think about how alone I felt growing up in my father’s trailer and even how alone I’ve felt with Cole sometimes. Maybe Pike Lawson is tired of being alone and eating alone and watching TV alone, and I’m a guest in his home and perhaps he’d like to get to know the people living under his roof, right? It’s only reasonable.
And maybe I’m tired of being alone a lot, too, and maybe I’m still hungry and pizza sounds pretty good, actually.
I blow out a breath and shove my notebook off my lap before standing up. Rushing over to the bedroom door, I yank it open and peek out.
“Joe’s Pizza?” I inquire, seeing him right before he heads down the stairs.
He stops and turns his head to look at me. “Of course.”
It’s the best pizza in town, so it’s a no-brainer. I step out of the bedroom and shut the door. “Halfsies?”