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Chapter 33
Percy
3:59 PM FRIDAY
So there I am, launching my panties off the balcony like they’re a Victoria’s Secret-brand weapon of mayhem and knocking back so much Goldschläger that by morning, I’ll be shitting gold.
“Sams, you’ve got it all wrong,” I inform my brunette BFF, passing her the bottle. “Cause, like, listen. If the Romans weresooooosure that Hannibal couldn’t get his elephants across the Alps, thenhow the fuck did he get his elephants across the Alps, huh?”
“Because, dummy,” Sam replies, snatching the bottle from my fist, “if it was like,easyto cross the Alps with fuckingelephants, then it wouldn’t be such a good fucking story, then, would it?”
“I dunno. Elephants, mountains, how hard could it be? Remember in Bangkok when we—hey, do you hear that?”
Now, here’s the thing. Normally when I hear buzzing coming from a suitcase, it’s because I’m going through airport security and my vibrator has just turned on inside my bag.
Huge deal. Bomb squads. Always ends up with me bent over a metal table with my wrists in zip ties, demanding to speak to my lawyer while a beefy TSA agent untangles an angry Hitachi wand from a week’s worth of lace panties.
But this is a different kind of buzzing.
This is the kind of buzzing that sounds a lot like…
I peek over our stack of suitcases and see Mysti May’s phone ferociously vibrating its way across the end table just behind our bags.
“Myst! Your phone’s ringing!” I yell into the bathroom where Becky and Mysti May are giving each other facials.
Oh my God, no. Notthatkind.
Get your damn head out of the gutter. The normal kind, ya fuckin’ perv.
Mysti comes trotting out of the bathroom with her face covered with something the color and consistency of guacamole. As she answers the phone, I grab a chip from the bowl on the counter and scrape it up the side of her cheek.
Yup. Definitely guacamole—and it needs more salt.
Mysti glares at me as she swigs her Corona and puts the phone on speaker.
“So, we’re here a little early. It’ll be…a surprise,” says the voice on the phone.
I recognize that voice. Sounds like a dry, wheezing fart in the desert on a hot summer Tuesday.
A surprise, though? Coming from Norbert Butts? I raise an eyebrow at Mysti, who looks just as impressed as I am.
The only surprising thing about Norbert as far as I’m concerned is that his dick works for anything saucier than C-SPAN.
“You don’t think she’ll be angry?”
That’s another voice, also male.Jeff, Mysti May mouths to me. Which would make sense, because that’s the honorable Mr. Butts’ best man.
A Butts’ buddy, so to speak.
And from the sound of things, we’re being Butts-dialed.
“Mysti? No, of course not. I’m sure she’s expecting it anyway…”
Then, we hear good ol’ Norb give his cab driver directions…to our hotel.
“I think he’s coming here to surprise me,” Mysti whispers, obviously shocked.
There’s even a little smile playing on her lips as she hangs up the phone—like, finally, she has some kind of justification for marrying this ass wipe other thanbecause he’s nice.
