“We have to talk.” “No, we don’t,” I counter. “We sure as fuck do. You need to tell me what the fuck last night was, and I have to figure out what the fuck to do about it.” “None of that is your job, Ben. And it’s none of your business.” “None of my business?” His eyes are wide, incredulous. “Are you kidding me, Lola?” I need to go. I need to get out of here. More importantly, I need Ben to drop this. “We need to talk, Lola.” He doesn’t drop it though. Of course, he doesn’t. Why won’t he fucking drop it? Why does he live to make every step of the way difficult?
