My phone buzzes just as I’m getting to the good part of my current read. It’s the 50% sex scene; you know what I’m talking about. We spent thirty percent of the book playing will-we-won’t-we, and then twenty percent getting ready for the yes-we-will, and now we’re at the gonna-do-this-thing, and I am here for it. Except I’m not because of the text that comes in from the depot. Messengers of Evil: Bill Barnum. Under the bridge at 125th Street between Kaiser and King. 2:20 p.m. I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and get my fancy ass up from where I’m reclining on Fox’s chest
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