Page 6 of The War Revision
“I didn’t know I was invited to a whining bitch-session,” he barks.
“You weren’t invited at all since you’re a fucking ass!” I go back to battering my laptop.
“Don’t say the words fucking and ass in the same sentence. Mine is as sore as a cold.”
God, Russel must be hung, proportioned to his King-Kong physique.
“You’re fogging up my eyeballs with all this ass talk. Why the hell are you here?”
“Don’t vent your frustration on me. Didn’t you get your happy-slut dose from your floozy of the night?” He throws a small cushion my way, missing me by…a lot.
“I did. She rode me like…”
“Ahhhh! Don’t want to hear about straight sex!” He sticks his tongue out and pushes a finger in his mouth. “I’m deeply regretting my decision to wait here for my boo to finish working.”
“Then, go wait in the devil’s cradle upstairs.” I grab the cushion from the floor and walk toward the sofa.
“If I go to Russell’s office he won’t be able to resist all this,”—he shakes his body—“and then Cole will complain about the noises.”
Satan likes to keep his prim and proper facade intact. I, on the other hand, have let Pete soundproof my room at the shop. What can I say? People find tattoo artists hot. I can get an eager blowjob or even a nice quickie if I’m lucky.
But now that I think about it, it has been a while since I’ve done that.
I sigh and go back to the conversation. “Another very good reason to do it, in addition to taking advantage of your boyfriend’s huge schlong.”
“Jealousy-green doesn’t look good with your complexion. And for fuck’s sake, would it kill you to moisturize a bit?”
Why am I alone with the deranged, disrespectful rainbow-Minion? “I do moisturize, you annoying little fucker.” And I mean it in the most affectionate way possible.
He gives me the stink eye, and I flip him off again.
“Buttface.”
“Cumface.”
“What face is that?” He narrows his eyes at me.
“There’s a mirror right behind you, prick milk.” I let myself drop next to him. He gasps when my heavier weight makes him bounce on the sofa.
“How are you Jordie’s brother? You’re nuts!”
“Pot…kettle, moron,” I counter.
“That means you are a moron too, doofus!” He points at me.
The bell over the door rings, saving Mel from my next words. I stand up and welcome my first client of the day.
While working, my head keeps going back to the same thing: Cole’s welcome gift.
And cue the mischievous smile.
Chapter 3
Thecelebrationliberation
I open my apartment door and find the Schlanders, the couple who lives on the third floor knocking on Cole’s door. I thought I’d be the last one to arrive since I’m one hour late—not for fashionable reasons. The welcome gift I’m holding is the cause for my tardiness.
I plaster a smile on my face and wave at the couple. The door to Cole’s apartment opens, but it’s Russel on the other side welcoming us.
