Page 109 of Fluke

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Maddox: His phone started going off this morning around five o’clock. Then the texts started coming through.

Me: How did he realize what it was?

Moss: GLORIA.

Paige: A woman named Gloria.

Maddox: Gloria. She’s apparently Honey’s friend. She recognized him—so she had to have matched with him, right?

Me: Pip fell asleep early last night, so I did Banksy a favor and matched him with some lovely ladies. All they had to do was match with him back.

Maddox: Well, Gloria matched with him, I guess, and then called the number. It went downhill from there.

Moss: Or uphill, depending on which side of this you’re on.

Banks: I AM NOT FIVE SEVEN.

I burst out laughing.

Pippa washes her hands while trying to dry her eyes on the sleeves of her shirt from laughing so hard.

Moss: THAT is what you’re pissed about?

Me:

Banks: I can’t even text because MY PHONE WON’T STOP GOING OFF.

Me: Aw, Sparkles. Look at all the attention you’re getting. They all want you. This is the pinnacle of your dreams, isn’t it?

Banks: I hate you. Also, I AM FIVE-ELEVEN.

Paige: I have to get back to work. Can someone make sure there’s no bloodshed?

Moss: Big nope.

Me: Want me to deactivate your account?

Banks: It would be nice.

Me: Will the rooster be gone when I get back?

Moss: SO WELL PLAYED.

Maddox: It really is impressive.

Banks: The rooster will not be there.

Me: I come home tomorrow.

Banks: I said it won’t be there.

Me: Deal. But I’m just deactivating it—not deleting it. Don’t fuck with me.

Banks:

I swipe openthe app and, as promised, deactivate Sparkles’s account.

Pippa sighs. “I wish I had siblings like yours.”

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