Page 22 of Catfish

I don’t even want him to know her damn name.

Reagan is mine—in a sense.

She’s my getaway, my few minutes of sanity where I’m not Wade Lockwood, the oldest son of Congressman Henry Lockwood. The man who made the school districts safer and all school lunches were now free. Who built up businesses in Connecticut to help the economy thrive.

Don’t get excited, that’s all he’s done.

The naughty list he’s on is so much longer.

Reagan: Such a loaded question, Yank. How weak is your stomach?

The hell kind of question is that?

Me: Not following, are you going to perform surgery on someone or cut open a small animal?

Reagan: You’re morbid.

Me: Then stop acting like the Joker and spit it out.

Reagan: How much would your stomach knot and twist if I sent you a picture of me in red lingerie?

My cock twitches at the mere thought of her naked skin against silk or lace fabric.

Yes, please.

Me: Am I going to throw up because you’re over a thousand pounds or because your pussy looks like the Amazon?

Reagan: Oh, you are an asshole.

Me: Every day of the week.

Me: So, you’re willing to send a picture of yourself in lingerie over a baseball game?

Reagan: I guess the part isn’t ‘willing’ as it is confident. I know you’re not going to win.

Me: I have specific demands than on the photo.

Reagan: Like?

Me: I want your hand down your panties with your legs spread. Eyes looking up at me.

Reagan: That was specific.

Me: Deal?

Reagan: Deal.

So much for stepping back.

? Blue Velvet — Lana Del Rey ?

The beams of the white crystal chandeliers dance along the ruby red carpet of the Burton Manor where Sadie and I are holding our latest event. It’s an anniversary party for Mr. and Mrs. Holden Montgomery, the mayor of Bridgeport, and it almost started off with a 911 call and a few ice packs for Mr. Montgomery’s head.

The moment he stepped foot into the manor, his face paled at the pink and white tulle draped around the giant columns of the room. The pink seat covers with pink flower arrangements centered on each table. The four-tiered rose-colored cake gracing the middle of the room, and the best part was that all the catering staff was required to wear pink attire while serving—you guessed it—pink drinks only.

I’ve given Mrs. Montgomery plenty of opportunities to change her mind.

Like, I really tried for the sake of people’s eyes and acid reflux.

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