I seriously should have become a fixer.
Maybe I should say fuck partner and go for it.
It’s almost comical the way the answer to his problem and mine are basically the same thing.
“Come on, Olive. Don’t hold back on me now.”
Oh no. Hell no.
Time to shut this train of thought right down...now.
But—it’s just . . .kind of perfect.
Complicated.
So fucking complicated.
No. I can’t.
Pushing that thought aside and stuffing it in a metaphorical box I can ship off to the dark recesses of my mind, I finish my drink and give him my honest opinion. The one that fixes his problem. Because that’s what we’re talking about.His. Problem.
My stomach flips. “If you were my client, I’d tell you if she found a husband, you need to find a wife.”
LOGAN
How’s Maggie doing?
We just smoked some crack off a
hooker’s ass, and now we’re chilling
before the fights start.
WTF Waverly!
Chill out, Logan. She came with me
to feed Buttercup and Gretzky.
I gave her a bath, we watched
Bluey, and I put her to bed.
Basically, a typical Saturday night.
I’ll save the crack for her
eighteenth birthday.
Waves, you know you snort
blow off a hooker’s ass and
smoke crack out of a pipe, right?
Why are my brothers such assholes?
I’ll leave the snorting and
