“How’s that delicious brother of yours? The things I could do to him. All of them illegal, of course.”
“I could call him for you.”
We were standing in the den. I wanted to get undressed, eat, and watch television, but it didn’t appear he was in a hurry to leave.
“Don’t bother. I’m too good for him. Now, let me take a look at you. My oh my. What an ungodly mess. That shirt belongs on the Marlborough Man, not on a businessman. Call an ambulance; we’ve got a fashion emergency.”
I was wearing a jean shirt with the sleeves rolled up because one of the buttons on the cuff was missing.
“How do you expect to score in a place like this? When was the last time you cleaned this shithole? Books everywhere. CDs. Pizza boxes. Candy wrappers. I’m afraid to sit on your couch. I might get smallpox. An
