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He’d danced with his boss, Amanda, because she was more like a mother to Will, if your mother was the type of person who would shoot you in the leg so the bad guys would get to you first while she sprinted away.
Not a bad way to start the week. Will had married a beautiful woman. He’d climbed a mountain. He’d made Sara happy. He had intimidated a thirsty teenager.
He asked, “Did your sister pack everything you need?” “Including a ten-inch, bright pink dildo.” Will was quiet for a second. “I guess we could try it out if you wanted something smaller?”
Look at Will being salacious
The other text was only marginally better. Faith’s mother had sent a photo of Emma with her face painted like Pennywise, the clown from It.
Emma is my girl.
She let the empty fields roll by. The cows. The occasional, low-flying, murder-bird.
Faith hoped the FBI knew that Jeremy was a moron.
“Can I get a lift to the hospital? My partner needs me at the lodge.” “I don’t drive, and that truck don’t work, but Rascal’s got plenty of gas.” “Rascal?” Penny nodded toward the horse.
It’s like Holly Hobby fucked the Devil.”
I opened a bottle of wine and watched a crime show on Hulu.” “Which show?” “The one about the detective with the dog. You can probably check those things, right?”
So meta
“Shut your mouth when you’re talking to me!”
She’d borrowed a pair of Sara’s yoga pants. They were about a foot too long and an inch too snug. She’d had to roll the waistband three times to keep the crotch from dangling down to her knees, then roll up the legs like puckered mouths around her calves. Her milkshake was bringing exactly zero boys to the yard.
Same Faith
Faith had brought the McAlpine cats down to Atlanta to put them in a shelter. Then Emma had seen them and one had gotten out of his carrier and killed a bird and that was the story of why Faith had two cats now, one named Hercule and the other named Agatha.
