Page 32 of Snap Shot

Fletch ends his gloating with a Harlem shake in front of Wade, who gets up, turns, bends over, and farts in the winner's direction before returning to his seated position.

It's bad enough he robs us blind playing poker on the road. But losing to him over Antiques Roadshow is a whole new low.

“Wouldn't be so sore about it if you'd listened to me.” Fletch licks his thumb and pads through the bills. “Had to be a Tiffany.”

Wade's phone dings and he fishes it out of a pocket. He looks at the screen then smirks. “Pussy calls.”

Fletch wrinkles his nose. “You really stick it anywhere, eh?”

That earns him a hook to the chest. “Pussy is pussy. You should try it sometime, Donovan. Give your hand a literal fucking break.”

Fletch curses and shrugs him off.

Wade spins on his heel to me. “Speaking of pussy, do I get your lawyer's number, or what?”

“Or what?” I glare. No way I'm letting him near her.

“The smart mouth?” Szecze straightens. “What'd I miss?”

“First” —Wade claps a hand on my back— “Landy here has a massive hard-on for her.”

Leave it to Wade to blab.Under a tight grasp, my fingers crinkle the Budweiser label on the bottle in my hand. Shit. Deny, deny, deny.“I don't have a hard-on for—”

“Then she saw us with our dicks out in the locker room. Turns out they played hockey together as kids…”

“Oooh.The plot thickens!” Fletch folds his winnings into his sweats and rubs his palms together.

“…But she acted like an uppity bi—”

“Hey, now—” I cut him off. “No need to call her names. She was—”

“Yeah, Idefinitelygot that vibe from her,” Szecze adds. “Shoulda seen how bent she got 'cause I didn't say her name right.”

Jaeg thwacks Szecze upside the skull. “It's not her fault you're a twat. Your name's fuckingSzeczin.”

Olsen lets out a dopey Patrick Star laugh.

“Anyway, I thought you went to apologize for being a prick.”

I chug the remaining contents from the brown glass lip, biding my time until I figure out an explanation. Definitely can't tell them what I saw. I'll get a stiffy just by thinking about it.

“You did?” The boys huddle closer. “What did she do?”

Quick! Pass out. Act dead. Pretend nothing happened. Belching after the last gulp, I shake my head. “Nothing. She,uh, wasn't there.”

I saw—heard something I wasn't supposed to. And now I won't be able to forget.

Wade brays out a sad trombone noise as the rest intone with disappointment. “Wa-wah-wa-waaaaa.”

“The plotthinnens.” Fletch surmises.

“How anticlimactic.”

Nope. There was a climax alright.

Wade's phone beeps again. “Damn. Read it and weep, mouth-breathing vag-repellers!” He shows off the disgusting text on his screen, then turns and moonwalks to the door. “Gotta run.”

“Same.” Fletch gets up from the ottoman. “Thanks for funding the contents of my next bookshelf.” He kisses the side of his fist after thumping it against his chest, then throws up a peace sign. “Deucessss.”

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