“So where’s Robert?” Probably at a witch doctor’s house asking him to construct a skinny, black-haired, gray-eyed voodoo doll named Kelly. “Gone,” I said shortly. “I told him no. Well, to be perfectly accurate, I said yes, and then I said no.” “Fuck, Kel.” Even over the noise in the background, I could hear the exasperation. “I thought you liked Robert.” “I did. Just not enough to marry him.” “Wow.” He seemed nonplussed for a moment. “I don’t know what to say to that.” “It is what it is.”
