“We’re doing great,” Levi tells Mike, his tone a mix of big-dick calm and I could kill a man with a beach ball. He leisurely puts his arm on the back of my chair, and plucks a grape from my plate. A deafening silence falls at the table. Everyone is looking at us. Everyone. “What about you, Mike?” Levi asks without bothering to look up from my food. “I heard there were problems with your tenure packet. How’s that coming along?” “Oh, um . . .” “Yeah. I thought so.”
