Sisi: Ew. Just Ew.
Me: Um, hello, this is about me, people, not Matty and his, um, flagpole.
Sisi: Yes, yes, Mr. Attention Hog needs the spotlight.
Matty: I think we need a Jockstrap night.
Omar: Yes! I’m not terribly sports minded, but YES!
Sisi: Did I miss the rainbow-colored memo? What’s a jockstrap?
Me: It’s a piece of clothing that . . .
Sisi: Fuck off, power boy.
Matty: It’s a gay sports bar where men who like men gather. Most have no fashion sense—or good sense, for that matter.
Me: Hello, I like sports—and jockstraps—and bars named after jockstraps.
Matty: They have trivia night.
Trivia night. Oh, God. I was fairly sure Mike had mentioned loving pub trivia.
Me: Um, Mike likes trivia.
Sisi: Picture this—me jumping up and down clapping. YES. It’s time he met the fam.
Matty: A spanking!
Omar: An initiation!
Me: NO! No spanking or initiation. Just a nice, quiet evening with beer and unanswerable questions.
Sisi: Bring your tribute. May the odds be ever in your favor.
Matty: Muahahaha!
Omar: This is rich.
Me: I hate all of you. Eight o’clock. Be there. Matty, it’s a sports bar. No chiffon.
Matty: What if it’s team-colored chiffon?
Me: No. Just no.
Matty: Party pooper. ER is calling. Toodles.
Omar: That still kills me. Who says toodles?
Sisi: Your very queer better half. All day, every day. Oh, shit. Gotta go. Bad car accident.
Omar: See you tonight, Reacher.
Reacher? Again? What the hell?
Chapter twenty
Mike