Page 13 of GAF Factor

He cringed at the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. “Wow. So, she went from spending time to sleeping with him. Yeah, I can see this is gonna go over really well.”

“What the fuck would you do?” I asked. “If you were me and IKE was out there after Riley?”

“Well, first, I’m not worried about another man. And do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fucking living with her,” he snapped. “I give it to her every night and she likes it.”

I hadn’t slept with Isla since she’d been found, but it wasn’t like I could do anything about that.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You haven’t made up with her yet since New York.”

“It’s not like I can.”

“Sure you can.”

“Yeah, I’ll just tell her,Hey, Isla, I know this is hard on you, but I need you to get you back on my good side, so I’m gonna need you to spread your legs.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put itexactlylike that.”

“I can’t put it like that at all,” I snapped.

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

I sank down on the couch again, then popped right back up and started pacing. There was no calming down. Not until she walked through that door and I knew she was alright.

“You know she’s fine,” Bowie finally said. “She’s not with him, and even if she is?—”

“See, why the fuck do you have to say that? She’s not with him, but maybe she is. How is that helpful?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. Nothing I say is helpful. I’m not even sure why you turned off the TV to talk to me.”

“Because I hoped you would say something useful!”

“About relationships?” he snorted. “Kavanaugh, I took a girl to Vegas and ended up married. I fucked a cougar and ended up married. I saved a woman’s life and now I’m living with her. What part of my record with women would give you the impression that I should be handing out advice?”

He had a point. “Okay, maybe you weren’t the best person to ask.”

He grunted and turned the TV back on, but it didn’t last long. The car pulled up not ten minutes later. “Shit. They’re back.”

“Shit!” Bowie said, jumping out of the chair and nearly falling over. “I was supposed to clean the kitchen.”

I strode to him and shoved him over. He hit the floor hard, cursing as he rolled, holding his leg.

“What the fuck did you do that for?”

“So you could get out of doing dishes. Give me your hand.”

He glared at me, but held out his hand. “You may be a fucking genius.”

“Yeah? That’s what you’re supposed to do for your friends. Now get in the fucking chair.”

He hobbled into it, groaning as he propped his leg up. I turned off the TV and spun him so he wasn’t facing it, then shoved a pillow under his leg.

“Do your best to look like you’re in pain.”

“No problem there,” he answered, glaring at me.

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