Page 96 of The Mercenary's Guide to Mishaps and Romance

“What’s up?” Leland asks.

“Where are we going? And should I just stay here? Because I feel like I should stay here.”

Leland gasps. “And miss Tavish’s birthday extravaganza that isn’t at all an excuse for us to stalk someone?”

I grimace and pretend I didn’t hear that last part. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Tavish, we’ll make sure you have the best birthday ever.”

“I already am,” he assures me.

“Really?” I ask as I think about how my father tried crushing his body in a window, how he’d nearly gotten shot, had been in a car crash, and was shoved out a second-floor window…

I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

And… should I be concerned that the man I like is clearly very confused?

“I even got to eat the biggest penis cake I’ve ever seen.”

“It was a lighthouse,” I try to claim.

“Definitely a penis.”

“A sizable schlong for sure,” Cassel agrees.

“Let’s go,” Leland says. “We have a set time to be there, and I don’t want to be late.”

So we’re all ushered out to the most suspicious van I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, you really are allowing us seats, unlike the time you whipped all the fuck around with us illegally bound and gagged in the back,” Cassel says. “That’s nice and thoughtful of you.”

“You didn’t need seat belts when you had Blow-Up Randy’s body to cushion you,” Leland replies.

I turn to Tavish who sits next to me, not at all disturbed by any of this. “Do I even ask who that is?”

“It’s Leland’s blow-up doll.”

“Oh, like one of those blow-up aliens you see people win at the fair?” I ask. “I remember trying really hard to win my sister, Sienna, one of those when we were teens. She wanted it so badly.”

“No, like a blow-up sex doll. Mouth hole and all. Protruding penis. The whole shebang. Or should I sayhebang.”

Leland scoffs. “That wasn’t funny, Tavish. Only I am allowed to make jokes,” he proclaims from the front passenger seat.

“A… sex… doll…” I think about this for far too long. “Definitely wasn’t trying to win my sister one of those.”

“Just stop thinking too much. It’s the issue you’re having,” Tavish informs me. “When you’re around Leland, the less you think, the more brain you save.”

“Think… less…”

“Tavish, since we didn’t get to sing you ‘Happy Birthday’ because the bird stole my solo, we should sing you a song now,” Leland declares.

“NO!” everyone shouts for some reason.

Leland just smiles like he’s not at all put off by the fact that the entire van adamantly hates his singing. Jackson’s the only one who doesn’t look horrified, but he’s sure not looking eager.

“A rap, then. Ellis, would you like to hear my birthday rap?”

“I would love to,” I say, which makes Leland smile even wider.

“Ellis, why?” Cassel whispers from behind me.

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