I felt him staring at me. I leveled my eyes on him. “What,” I said flatly. “Nothing. It’s just you remind me of someone.” I gave him a look. “Who.” “Naw, you’ll get mad.” “This better not be some fucking negging thing.” He sat back and put up his hands. “Whoa, it’s not. I’m being serious.” “Then who?” “This rooster I have—” I glared. “No wait,” he said. “It’s not an insult. He’s this little bantam chicken. Russell Crow. Really beautiful but mean. He attacks me every morning when I come in the yard.”
