Page 152 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Fuck.

I paced back and forth outside the club.

I waited.

And waited some more.

Had they fucking started her right away? It was seven p.m. for fuck’s sake. There were like ten other cars in the parking lot. Surely they weren’t that desperate for dancers.

I pulled out my phone and made a frantic text. The guys would tell me if I was being too crazy.

Me: If one wanted to make a large fire, what would one do?

Ari: What’s wrong with you?

Linc: Yeah, why are you talking like that?

Me: I’m not talking like anything.

Walker: You’re talking like you’re going to burn something down.

Me: What?

Linc: He’s obviously going to burn something down.

Ari: The question is what?

Ari: Hey look at us, Golden Boy, finishing each other’s sentences like true besties.

Walker: I finish sentences all the time.

Ari: Disney, you simp.

Me: This is the most helpful group I’ve ever been a part of. AND YES, I AM BEING SARCASTIC.

Walker: You literally asked us if we knew anything about burning something down. We didn’t know you wanted a real answer.

Ari: Ahh, Disney, you’re now talking in the royal “we” for the group.

Linc: That was very smart of you, Lancaster.

Ari: I know.

Me: I was just thinking that the circle of trust would know a little something about burning down a building.

Ari: What circle of trust?

Walker: Yeah, that was very un-circle of trust of you.

I huffed and then my phone was ringing.

It was Lincoln.

“Hello?” I asked, going for casual, even though Lincoln made me nervous.

“What are you burning down?”

“I’m not burning down anything. It was simply a research question—an innocent one—people ask their friends about things like this all the time.”

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