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"The last I heard, I'm a working actor. And contrary to public opinion that we sit around on our arses all day, waited on hand and foot, I wake up at four a.m. most days to work out, and then head to location for make-up, prep and shoot."
He laughs. "You also fly around in a million-dollar private jet that emits up to ten times more carbon dioxide than a normal commercial flight."
I wince. "Look, I know it doesn't make up for it, but I also donate the equivalent of what it costs to fly on one to off-set carbon omissions."
He blinks. "You do?"
I rise to my feet and pad over to the adjoining bathroom. "You sound surprised."
"Knowing you, I shouldn’t be. You’re the most generous person I know."
"Not like you don’t do more than your share with your inheritance." I prop the phone on the counter, then flip up the lid of the commode and shove my sweatpants down.
"It’s only money." He raises a shoulder.
"You only say that because you were born with it." The sound of my stream of urine hitting the porcelain fills the air.
"As were you."
"It’s why we’re happy to give it away. Now, if we’d been like Cade and born with not a penny to our names—"
As if summoned, my phone vibrates with a notification that indicates Cade is waiting to join the call.
"I’m patching him in," Knight warns.
Cade’s face appears on screen. "Hey, motherfuckers."
"And here I’d hoped I didn’t have to see your butt-ass ugly mug for a little longer," I groan.
"Aww, did you miss me, honey?" He makes smooching noises. "Catching you with your wiener in your hand, too. How appropriate."
"Go fuck yourself," I grumble, then pull up my sweats and flush.
"Heard you’re having girl problems?" Cade smile widens.
"Heard you’re having performance issues?"
Cade whistles. "Descending to that, are we? It must be love," he sings out.
"Shut the fuck up, wankface."
"I’ve seen Trappist monks look happier than you, bro," he offers.
"This is what you get when you wake me up in between time zones and countries." I scratch my unshaven chin.
"So, you get a day off and decide to hop a flight to go see your lady love?"
"What’s it to you?" I scowl.
"Since you’re the first of us three to decide to settle down—"
The blood drains from my face. "Who said anything about settling down?"
"You’re doing a twenty-four-hour turnaround to go see her. Hence…" He raises a shoulder.
"Hence nothing. A man’s entitled to go back home, isn’t he?"
"Keep fooling yourself into thinking that," he chuckles.
