Page 21 of Three
“What?” Sari jerks back in shock.
“Why would we need baseball bats?” I ask him.
“Forward planning, of course.” He scoffs. “Ollie and I stalked Rague, and now they are ecstatic and fucking like rabbits. Aaand I have a new stalker playlist I want to debut,” Lori pleads with praying hands.
“Raph kind of stalked me…with Rague actually.” Michael reminds me how our family growth started.
“They thought you were Meg’s lover,” Sari offers.
Michael replies, “Who would be so stupid as to awaken Linda’s jealousy?”
Linda, my foster mother is bloodthirsty. She’s scary when she’s…plotting the demise of the poor fucker who crossed her path.
“I just realized how ironic his name is: Hunter…the P.I.” Michael snorts.
“Come on, I need some action, mates!” Lori suddenly whines.
“How about you do my hands?” Michael tells him, wiggling his fingers in front of him.
“Alright.” He strangely gives up. That was too easy. And in fact, after a minute into mani, he suggests, “I know you stalked him on the internet, already. Doing it in real life is the next step, Reacher.”
“I’ve seen you drive, Lori. You turn into a wild, deranged maniac behind the wheel. How did you get your license?” Lori is the worst driver in the whole history of driving. How he is still alive is a mystery no one will ever solve.
“I slept with the instructor.” He shrugs, lowering his eyes to Michael’s hands.
There’s a couple of understandingahhsand a huff.
“Not on purpose! Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” He wrinkles his nose. Then lets Michael choose the nail polish color. Light green.
“How can you have sex with someone not on purpose?” Sari is seriously contemplating it, his eyebrows scrunched up above his big blue eyes.
“Did you fall asleep and accidentally got impaled on his cock?” Michael taunts Lori.
Gremlin makes a pondering sound. “Always found somnophilia sexy. But I sleepwalk at times. It could be a new kink, sleepwalkingphilia. Somnambulismphilia?”
“The right name would be ipnovasiphilia. In Greekipnovasímeans somnambulism andphiliais love,” Sari offers.
“I need to post this. How do you spell that?” Lori grabs his phone from his small handbag while Sari obliges him.
“And no, there was no actual sleeping involved with the instructor. I didn’t know what he did for a living. We hooked up in a bar, and a month later, he recognized me from the passenger seat of the driving school car.”
“And he remembered you,” Michael states, waving his hands in the air to let the nail polish dry.
“What can I say, I’m unforgettable.” That’s for sure.Lori’s spit-firing, no-filter attitude and individualistic fashion style certainly leave a permanent impression in people’s brains.
“You must be memorable too if he gave you the license after seeing you drive,” I scoff.
“He gave me something else in the back of the driving school car. Twice,” Lori smirks mischievously, lifting two fingers to emphasize how many times he got fucked.
“I’ve never gotten a driver’s license. Maybe I should.” Sari’s cheeks have turned red.
“Aren’t you shagging that professor?” Lori asks him while tapping on his phone.
“Trent? We just had dinner together.”
“And dessert?” I wiggle my eyebrows at Sari. His cheeks have turned scarlet now. So something must have happened with the professor.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I made cookies.” I didn’t know Michael could cook. He jogs—almost skips—to the fridge, coming back with a plastic container full of what may have looked like chocolate chip cookies before Dr. Frankenstein decided to work on them.
