“Oh my god, Sam. Seriously? Let it go.”
“I’m not the only one who thinks they’re the greatest thing ever. You’d make a killing if you’d just—”
“Can we please talk about something else?”
Another smack of her lips. “Okay. So, why are we not going back to the sex dungeon?”
A message pops up on my screen.
I lean forward and read.My Vitals Tracking alert: Patient heart rate elevated.
“Crap, Dad’s heart rate’s up again.”
“Don’t avoid the question. What happened at the club? Do we need to report someone or—?”
“No. No, when I said it was good, I was not kidding. At all.” Distracted now, I scroll over to Dad’s heart monitoring app and click the heart rate icon. This has been happening a lot lately. “The thing is, the one Dom I’d be into playing with again is apparently taken. So…”
“Bummer.”
“Total bummer.”
“Too bad you’re not the kind of evil wench who’d go back there in twenty-inch heels and transparent booty shorts or something and steal him away.”
I pause, my head tilted as I picture that. “Transparent? You mean fishnet or—”
“I was thinking more like a medium-transparency vellum, but plastic wrap could—”
“Ew.” I squint. Dad’s heart rate’s okay, although it’s definitely a little elevated for this hour. This is TV time.
Samantha slurps at her lollipop and hums while she, too, lets the image sink in. “Oh, yeah. I see it now. Nothing transparent, then. You’ll have to do pasties and one of those—”
“I should call to check in on Dad.”
“Wait. Seriously? Now? You haven’t even gotten to the good stuff. Can’t one of your sisters deal for once?”
I snort. “What, Hannah? No. Between the kids and—”
“The loser husband.”
“Come on. Don’t say that.”
“We all know it’s true. I’m just not Jensen enough that I get to say it out loud.”
“You’re Jensen-adjacent.”
“Exactly.” She makes a popping sound with her mouth, so familiar I can smell the artificial watermelon as if she were here beside me. “I tell it like it is. What about Otty?”
“What about her?”
“Why don’t you ask her to pick her ass up and check on your dad at the crack of midnight, instead of you doing it? What else could she possibly have going on?”
“Well, it is Friday.”
Samantha lets out a low, evil, lollipop-muffled laugh that says everything there is to say about my youngest sister withoututtering a single word. Otty, we both know, is out getting her heart broken. Again.
“Oh, crap. Got to go.”
“Wait. Why?”
