“As a matter of fact,Catcher in the Ryedoes have sex in it!” Royce said.
“Have you read a book since high school, Royce?” Sorrento laughed.
“That’s notoriously a book for tools,” I added.
“It’s classic fucking literature!” Royce whined. “You’re the one reading girl porn!”
“Actually, the term classic literature is often elitist and Eurocentric—” Owen piped in, his head peeking over the seat in front of me.
Three voices responded with, “Shut up, rookie!” As they should.
I felt like my head was about to pop off—and not the one in my pants. That one had quickly retreated.
“It’s for a girl, okay?” I barked. “I’m reading themwitha girl. God forbid a guy read a romance novel or two.”
“Ooh! I know what that’s called! The reading at the same time!” Sorrento started pointing at me and snapping his fingers like he couldn’t find the word.
“Foreplay?” Jack Leroy decided to chime in from next to Sorrento.
“A buddy read!” Sorrento said. “Jeanine does them all the time with her friends.”
“You don’t think it’s cheating that your wife reads other men with a fourteen-inch dick being the hero?” Royce lifted a brow.
Sorrento’s smile turned smug. “She gets great ideas. I have no complaints.”
“That’s what porn is for,” Dottie said.
“And somehow, we’ve come full circle,” I sighed.
“I bet Mara would want in,” Leroy said. “To the friend read thing with Jeanine.”
“Leroy just wants some of that romance novel-grade ass,” Royce sniffed.
Leroy was unbothered, lifting a single shoulder and running his tongue along his teeth. “I’ll try anything once.”
“I’m sure J would love to buddy read with Mara,” Sorrentosaid, picking up his phone and starting to type. “Colt, does your girl want in? Who is she?”
“Oh, did you finally stop ghosting Yulia?” Dottie asked. I cringed. I really had been a dick.
“Um, not Yulia. She’s a friend from college. An ex actually.”
“You’re dating a college girl?” Royce said. “A little young, don’t you think? You’re, what, forty?”
“I’m thirty-one!” If my head had exploded earlier when the pressure first built, it felt like it had been reconstituted from brain bits, then detonated again. “I showed you her picture the other day!”
“They call it an age gap,” Sorrento said. “All the rage these days. In the books, anyway.”
All I could do was growl. I tossed the book down in my seat and headed back for the bathroom.
“Ope, you better take the book,” Royce called, reaching to pull the book off my seat and thrusting it my way. “They don’t leavePlayboyin the bathroom like the olden days.”
NINETEEN
VIOLET
OCTOBER | COLUMBUS, OHIO
COLT
