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“Well, anyway, in Pretty Woman Richard Gere is this rich businessman and Julia Roberts is a lady of the night.”
“A lady of the night?” Wyatt looked confused. “Dude, just speak in plain English, please.”
“She was a prostitute.”
“Oh, you mean like a ho?”
“We call them whores, Wyatt.”
“Whores, hoes, prostitutes, whatever.” He started laughing.
“What’s so funny, Wyatt?”
“It just reminds me of that song.”
“What song?”
“You know, there’s some prostitutes in this house. There’s some prostitutes in this house,” he sang loudly.
“Is that how the song goes?”
“No, but you know what I mean.”
“Oh my God, Wyatt. We’re getting sidetracked. I don’t care about your prostitute song. I just want to go and make sure that Arya is going to be okay.”
He looked at me through narrowed eyes. “So…she knows we’re coming?”
“No, she doesn’t know.”
“And you don’t think she’s going to be upset when we just show up at her new job?”
“Well, we’re not just going to show up at her new job as us.”
“Um, what do you mean?”
“We’re going to put on disguises.”
“Oh, hell no.” He put his hands up and took a step back. “I’m not dressing up as a drag queen.”
“Wyatt, sometimes I really think you’ve lost your marbles.” I was getting increasingly annoyed.
“What?” he said. “What do you mean?”
“Of course you’re not going to dress up as a drag queen. We’re going to go as old men.”
“Oh, and that’s better?”
“Are you coming with me or not?”
“I guess, seeing as I have nothing better to do, but if Arya finds out and she’s mad, you’re taking all the blame.”
“Yeah, yeah, and she’s not going to find out.”
“Really? You think we’re going to have that good of a disguise?”
“Yep,” I nodded. “I got some fake mustaches, and we’re going to wear dark glasses.”
“We’re going to wear dark glasses in a club?”
