Everyone’s looking at us. Her glare is a little less than grateful.
“What?” I shrug when I see she’s fine. “I’m not letting you out of my escape plan that easily.”
“Remind me why I encourage you?”
“Because life is more fun with me in it.” I boop the tip of her nose with a frosting-covered finger.
She grabs a napkin from the dispenser and cleans her face dramatically.
“Now that you’re not dying, what did you find?”
Her gaze moves past me as I’m remotely aware of somebody sitting on the next barstool. She lowers her voice. “There’s this place called Eggplant Canyon.”
“Like a farm?” I shove more cinnamon roll in my mouth.
“Eggplant.” She draws the word out.
I’m not getting it.
She points at her lap. “The emoji means…”
“Oh!” Nearly dropping my cinnamon roll, both of my hands are now covered in sticky goo. The thought of farmers growing dicks doesn’t help.
“It’s a neighborhood, not a farm.” She clearly doesn’t want anyone to hear.
“For male strippers? C’mon, Trena. Help a girl out.”
“It’s this place where all of the women end up in ménages or reverse harems.”
A cough from the stool beside me indicates that the newcomer is a man, and that I’m not the only one who heard. Can’t people mind their own fucking business?
Having fun with the eavesdropper, I say clearly. “Each chick gets multiple dudes? Sign me up.”
“And they’re… married… or whatever you call it with a group.”
“Whoa! Slow down on the married thing. I thought you just meant hookups.”
Trena reads for a few seconds. “Apparently, it’s a way of life there.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
She looks past me, then scoots closer and whispers. “You would do that? Hook up with multiple guys?”
“Sounds more fun than sticking around here.” I dab my finger into the frosting.
“Hold on,” the man behind me says.
Here goes. Probably some perv gonna offer to make our dreams come true. I take a deep breath hoping he’ll notice my continued refusal to turn around as a sign to fuck off. Although, if his deep voice matches his… Nope. Nope. Nope. He needs to fuck off.
Trena has gone completely pale.
He continues talking to my back. “I’m all about having fun, but be careful. You don’t know who could have written that internet article.”
“It’s in a blog from one of the wives,” Trena says hesitantly.
“Surely you know about catfishing.” He sounds sincere.
I’m just about done with him. “Surely you know about good manners.”
