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“Kline,” she whispered, “I’m telling her.”
“Wait. Ben—” he started to interrupt, but she was already set in her decision.
“He’s here.”
“—ny.” Kline’s shoulders sagged in defeat.
I lifted my head from my hands. “What do you mean, he’s here?”
Georgia looked at Kline for a little reassurance.
He gestured toward me. “Well, fuck. No going back now, Benny.”
“What was I supposed to do?” she asked with a hand on her hip.
“Realize that Cassie is a really good actress.”
Georgia turned and looked at me. Her eyes interrogated my no longer distraught face. Her concerned expression turned to a glare within seconds. “How can you be so evil yet growing my sweet little baby godson inside your belly at the same time?”
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I covered my belly with both hands. “Hey, watch your fluffing language. My kid can hear you.”
She just stared back at me and then shouted toward my stomach. “Your mother is an asshole!”
That made me laugh, and Georgia flipped me off…with both hands.
“All right, just go ahead and spill it, G. Why is Thatch here? And if he’s here, where in the heck is he?”
“I’m not telling you anything else.”
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be like that.”
She shook her head and, surprisingly, stood her ground. “Nope. Not happening. Figure it out on your own.”
I looked between her and Kline a few times before realizing I knew plenty of ways to figure out what was going on. Thatch might be a world-class prankster, but I knew all of his cards. Every. Single. One.
“Oh, don’t worry, sweet cheeks, I will.” I winked and turned in the other direction. As I strode back down the hallway, I called over my shoulder, “But, hey, thanks for the info, Wheorgie! You’re a sweetheart for telling me he’s here.”
“Asshole! You’re ruining all of my fun,” she shouted back, and I just grinned in response.
So, Thatch was here, and whatever he was doing, Kline and Georgia were getting amusement out of it. Yeah, I’d crack this case wide fluffing open.
I was back at our hotel fifteen minutes later and standing in front of the bellhop, ready to start Plan A of my “Where is Thatch-o?” situation.
“Excuse me,” I politely asked the twenty-something man behind the desk. “I was wondering if I could find out someone’s room number. I completely forgot the number he told me, and I’m already a few minutes late in meeting up with him.”
“Of course. What’s his name?” the man asked with a smile as he tapped the mouse of his computer, bringing it back to life.
This is why it’s a good idea to go sans bra. No way this shithead would have given me this information without a hint of my nipples in play.
I knew if Thatch was on some covert mission, he wouldn’t use his actual name to reserve the room. So, I went with my very best guess. His idea of the perfect porn name should he ever decide to join the sex industry. “Phil Latio.”
His green eyes went wide as saucers. “Fellatio?”
“No.” I shook my head and bit back my grin. “Phil, P-h-i-l. Latio, L-a-t-i-o.”
“Oh.” His cheeks flushed the color of a cherry-flavored Charms Blow Pop. “Phil Latio.”
In my scheming, slightly evil but very hilarious brain, this conversation had now become a challenge for how many times I could get this guy to make everyone in the lobby believe he was talking about actual fellatio.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard of him.”
“Phil Latio?”
There’s three.
“Yeah, he’s actually pretty famous.”
“Mr. Phil Latio is famous?”
Four.
“Oh, yeah,” I lied. “He’s a very popular porn star.”
He offered an amused grin. “I guess the name makes sense now.”
I smirked and nodded my head.
His eyes searched my face in question, and I knew what he was asking before he found the strength to will the words out of his mouth. He was damn near gagging over the curiosity of whether I was a porn star, too.
“I’m actually writing his tell-all book,” I continued the lie. “It’s really a shame he had to make such an abrupt departure from the porn industry, with the whole penis transplant fiasco.” I feigned sympathy. “He had the best money shot in the business.”
“Penis transplant?” he blurted out.
“Yep,” I answered as I tapped my fingers across the marble of the hotel desk. “It’s all very new-age. He’ll be one of the first penis transplants in the world. Fingers crossed it all goes well, right?”
