Page 91 of Shot Taker

This one has a fireproof coating.

CW

“The bathroom?” I ask as Brooke and Jay head inside.

“Yeah. It has to be in the shower so when he pulls the curtain back, there’s Michael," Brooke explains.

They take turns positioning the cardboard cutout.

“No, wait, like this.” Jay steps inside the shower with both feet, making the cutout assume an awkward and provocative position.

“Why Michael Bublé?” I ask.

“One year, Jay kept listening to what he called his hype music but wouldn’t let anyone in on it. Turned out it was Michael Bublé’s Christmas album. The guys never let him live it down,” Brooke says under her breath.

We watch Jay step out of the bathtub and brush off his hands.

The sound of laugher in the hallway makes us freeze.

“Shit!” I curse.

There’s no time to get out. Brooke grabs me and Jay and sprints out of the bathroom as voices stop outside the door.

There’s nowhere to hide.

Jay dives into the closet, pulling it shut behind him.

“Traitor!” Brooke hisses.

Pulling her with me, I lunge for the curtains like people do in the movies.

The door clicks. I listen to him walk into the bathroom and turn on the sink.

“What the…?”

Brooke and I hold our breath in anticipation.

“This soap is fucking terrible.”

We look at each other and laugh silently.

I peek out as Jay slips out of the closet and through the front door. Just when we start to creep toward the door, the faucet cuts out.

We run back to the curtains.

We’re safe until we hear a little yip.

Waffles. I forgot all about Waffles.

He’s sniffing Brooke’s high heels with excitement.

“What is it, boy?”

The curtain jerks away, and Miles is standing there in a towel. “Well, what have we here?”

He’s definitely cut, but Brooke’s appreciating him enough for both of us.

“If you wanted to touch my trophy, all you had to do was ask,” he says.

---