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“I’m not. I’m just saying, Androids suck. They don’t play well with others, and all her responses are gonna be green instead of blue. It’s annoying.”
“It’s not the phone that doesn’t play well with others,” Maxi whispers to me.
“I’m sorry. Just remove me. I’ll get my info the old-fashioned way. You guys can just tell me when you see me.”
They all groan.
“What are we, cavewomen?” Erin asks.
“Apparently, Anna is,” Jena mumbles.
“Hey, I like my phone.”
“That’s because you don’t know any better,” Erin huffs.
“We’re going to have to do something about this,” Brandee says.
They are all nuts.
Erin stands. “It’s getting late. Let’s cut the pie.”
“Late? It’s not even nine,” Jena says.
“I want to get home and get a good night’s sleep. Ted is getting off early tomorrow,” Erin says, then turns to Maxi. “Can I borrow your motorcycle?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. I don’t want to drive it. I just need you to park it in my driveway for the night.”
“Why?” Jena asks.
“It’s my turn to set the role-playing scene. I’m going to be a badass biker babe, and he’s going to be my sexy, morally corrupt mechanic.”
“Can’t you just pretend to have a motorcycle?” Brandee asks.
“The better the props, the hotter the scene,” Erin informs us.
“He’s not actually going to work on the motorcycle though. Couldn’t you just wear chaps or something?” Jena inquires.
“No, I want to be straddling it when he pulls up. Then, when he suggests that he give us both a tune-up, I can act offended and put my motorcycle boot in his crotch and tell him to apologize, and then—”
“Stop,” Maxi says. “You’re not screwing your husband on Suga.”
“Suga?” I ask.
“It’s the name of Maxi’s motorcycle,” Ansley whispers.
“Oh, please. He’s not limber enough to pull off motorcycle sex. I just want to create the fantasy,” Erin gripes.
“Still, no,” Maxi says.
“Please.”
Maxi sighs.
“Come on, Maxi. I’ll owe you.”
“I swear, if you get so much as a scratch or a pubic hair on my girl, I’ll put a boot in your crotch.”
