This wasn’t over. Not even close. But for now, we had guests to deal with. Deals to close. Business to handle.
As people filtered into the dining room, including my friends, I glanced down at my buzzing phone. The name on the screen made me grind my molars.
AXEL’S PINK PUSSY WAGON SUPPORT GROUP CHAT
Blake: The victim of your tire slashing is here? [Sends GIF of eating popcorn.] This is better than pay-per-view.
Ryker: $50 says Axel redecorates his face by the end of the night.
Jace: You’re on. He’ll behave in front of important investors. Right, Axel?
Jace: Right??????
Jace: Your silence is concerning. And your murder face is showing.
Me: Don’t you have something better to do? Like stay on your PI to trace down that blocked number who sent me that creepy text?
Jace: He’s working on it. Still hitting dead ends. Professional job, whoever it was. Meanwhile, maybe worry about the very real threat sitting three seats away, plotting your demise.
Me: Stop texting. It looks suspicious to the influencers. Who might see your chat, by the way. Could you BE more obvious? Maybe wave some neon signs while you’re at it.
Blake: For someone whose clothes are suspiciously wrinkled, you’re in a bad mood. Did you get dressed in a tornado? Or were you … busy?
Ryker: Ew. I have so many questions, but most importantly: Couldn’t you wait until AFTER dinner to do whatever you did with your “fake” fiancée? Is this table a biohazard now?
Jace: Gross. I’m switching seats. I don’t want your pheromones all over my salmon.
Me: Shut up. Put your phones away. And play along.
Ryker: Mathew looks like you pissed in his drink. The man is practically vibrating with rage. His eye is literally twitching. I’m counting the twitches. We’re at 47.
Blake: He’s been staring at you for five minutes straight WITHOUT BLINKING. It’s like a really awkward nature documentary.
Jace: And here, we observe the deflated tire victim in his natural habitat, preparing to strike his unsuspecting prey with what appears to be … a butter knife? The prey, meanwhile, is marking his territory by aggressively holding his fake fiancée’s hand.
Blake: Mathew’s blood pressure is visibly 180/110. I can see his carotid from here. If he doesn’t stroke out, you might kill him.
Ryker: Axel, as your future lawyer, I need you to stop glaring at him like that. That demonstrates premeditation.
Blake: Pulse check: His temple vein is spelling out “murder” in Morse code.
Jace: $300 says Mathew tries to propose to Faith mid-dinner just to be petty.
Blake: Counter bet: $500 says Axel snaps the second Mathew breathes in Dakota’s direction.
Ryker: Should we start a betting pool on which utensil becomes evidence first?
Me: I will murder all three of you.
Jace: Thought you already called dibs on murdering Mathew. Don’t get greedy.
Ryker: Oh shit, dinner’s starting. This is happening. CODE RED, CODE RED.
Blake: Someone needs to live stream this for posterity. Future generations need to know how Axel died.
Jace: Showtime, gentlemen. Place your final bets. Death by steak knife or wine bottle to the head?
Blake: May the best fake boyfriend win.
