“I asked Samuel Brooks’s niece if she had money to go to Utah. And I fucked her. In the library. And on my desk. And in a classroom.” “Jesus Christ, Kaplan,” Fletch hisses as she tosses an ax toward the target. “I don’t know whether to be proud or disgusted.” “Both,” Blake chimes in. “Have you ever thought of maybe taking her to a hotel room? Or like, your house?”
