Page 45 of Dirty

“Wait,” Pee Bee said. “You’re sitting around drinking wine with them?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. You left that part out.”

“I took a bottle of fucking wine with me trying to be polite.”

“Motherfucker,” Smokey said. “You took a bottle of wine hoping to tap both their asses. I know you, remember?”

“God damn it, Smoke!”

“I’ll just listen,” he said.

I shook my head at Smoke’s comment, and then shifted my attention to Pee Bee. “Alright. We go to get more wine, and mom’s all hanging on me and shit--”

“Was she drunk?” Pee Bee asked.

“Kind of.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“Well, I get back to the house, and pretty soon, mom’s drunker’n a fucking monkey. She goes to bed, and I’m sitting there staring at the daughter. She’s staring back at me all smiling and shit. I flip out and tell her I gotta go, and then leave. Then, the other night I went over there and we ended up making tacos and I stayed eight fucking hours afterward watching Californication on Netflix.”

“With the mom or the daughter?” Pee Bee asked.

“Daughter.”

“Hank Moody ain’t on Netflix,” Smokey said.

“Well, it was on something, and we watched it.”

“Good show, ain’t it?”

“Pretty good,” I said, half irritated that he was intervening in the conversation.

Smokey took a pull off his vape, exhaled into the air, and nodded. “Hank pulls some serious ass. That guy fucks some puss for sure. Girl asked you to watch that, she was trying to get in your pants, Brother.”

I acted like I didn’t hear him, and stayed focused on pee Bee. “What I was wondering was would it be weird if I ask the daughter out?”

“Ask her out?” He arched an eyebrow. “Like ask her out? On a date?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He blurted out a laugh, and when he noticed the only one laughing with him was Smokey, he stopped.

After he caught his breath, he looked at me in disbelief. “Since when do you ask anybody out? You just fuck bitches.”

“Same as you, asshole,” I snapped back.

He chuckled. “I met someone and settled down.”

“Well. That’s what I’m asking. Would it be weird if--”

“Weird how?” Smokey asked.

“Just weird,” I responded. I alternated glances between them, waiting on an answer.

“Hank Moody fucked a 16-year-old. You see that episode?”