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“Yeah, well… sometimes the old ways are the best ways.” Lou sat back in his chair. “Why the fuck was that bitch so interested in the photo, anyway?”
“Don’t talk about Fiona that way.”
“Oh my God, he fucks her once and suddenly she’s Mother Teresa and Mary Poppins rolled into one,” Lou muttered. “Okay, motherfucker: why exactly was your newest squeeze – and my newest waitress – so interested in that photograph?”
“Just by chance. She saw some photos of a bunch of my exes and got jealous.”
“Not Sloane,” Lou groaned.
“NO, not Sloane. Christine.”
“The redhead with the tits?” Lou said, cupping his hands in front of his chest.
“Yes,” I said, not liking the way he said it.
“Oh… no wonder she got jealous,” Lou said.
“There you go.”
“And then she just went to the other picture? Just like that?”
“Yeah.”
“She get pissed about any others?”
“No.”
“How many bitches – excuse me, ‘ladies’ – do you have up there in your fuckin’ gallery?”
“I don’t know. A dozen, maybe.”
Lou got a thoughtful expression on his face. “Just those two photos? That’s all she freaked out about?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Were they right next to each other?”
I had to think about their positions on my wall. “…no. Not exactly.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothin’,” Lou said. “Fuckin’ bitches, gettin’ all jealous… what’re you gonna do?”
I shrugged like I agreed. What’re you gonna do.
“Besides maybe takin’ down stupid goddamn incriminating photographs,” Lou said mildly. “Besides that, of course.”
“Lou, I’m going to tell you what I told her.”
“What’s that, bend over?”
“No. DROP it.”
He put up his hands in surrender. “Alright. Fine. Consider it dropped.”
But now he had me thinking about it…
