Page 61 of Far Cry


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"Men who wait transcend that. They have a different kind of energy altogether. It's like Mighty Good Dick Energy."

I wagged a piece of cheddar at her. "Are you invoking Salt-n-Pepa right now?"

She shimmied her shoulders, arched her brows. "I am."

"Well done, madam." I smiled at her. I fucking loved this girl. "Well done."

Annette mimed a curtsey, saying, "To summarize, you have some Mighty Good Dick Energy on your hands. If you're careful, it's going to develop into some Mighty Good Husband Energy."

Skipping right over the husband comment, I replied, "It's not in my hands, Annette. A woman over thirty shouldn't be giving handies. Understood?"

She gave me a stiff, fake grin, the kind that made her eyes squint and her lips stretch into a thin, sarcastic line. "Sure. Let's make that the point of this discussion."

"Listen," I started, "I don't show up to meetings that can be held without me, you know?"

"I do. I really do," the server murmured. "And here's the blackberry mojito."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brooke

Capitalization: the sum of an organization’s stock value, long-term debt, and retained earnings.

Brooke:I just found an unnaturally long hair on the back of my leg.

Brooke:I thought it was head hair I'd shed and it was stuck on my leg. When I tried to remove it, I discovered it was growing out of my leg. What the fuck is this about?

Annette:Welcome to your mid-thirties, love.

Brooke:I reject that explanation.

Annette:I'd like to reject it too, but I have a pimple on the inside of my nose and it feels like I'm driving a stake through my skull every time I touch it.

Brooke:This is some bullshit.

Annette:You have it easy. You're blonde.

Brooke:How? My unnaturally long thigh hairs are nearly invisible?

Annette:That's one benefit, but your grays will blend in. Mine look like tinsel.

Brooke:What are you talking about? You have no tinsel.

Annette:Oh, I have tinsel. Curly hair is forgiving, but when they come through, they shine like a disco ball.

Brooke:I'm not ready to start growing old. We'll do that in thirty or forty years, when we've bought a pair of cottages and wear matching track suits.

Annette:There's a difference between growing up and growing old. We're not growing old yet, my friend.

Brooke:Remember being twenty-one and thinking you were a grown-ass lady?

Annette:I remember being thirty-three and thinking that. I've learned a few things this past year.

Brooke:Right there with you.

Annette:I'm looking forward to those twin cottages and wearing stretchy pants every day. We're going to need rocking chairs too.

Brooke:Have you mentioned any of our plan to Jackson?