He laughs bitterly. “No one has all the time in the world.”

I don’t want to start explaining figures of speech to him. He is not my spawn. So I just look at him, waiting.

“Anyway, Ireland depresses me,” he whines, throwing an arm over his face like a teenage girl who just found out her crush likes the cock, too. “You live in the middle of fucking nowhere, dude. No offense, but you actually do. It’s, like, scientific.”

“Do you know what the word science means?” I ask, just as Rory slides into the conversation diplomatically.

“If we put a good dent in the project, we can all go somewhere else for a while.” She claps her hands together and appears by my side. “A vacation.”

“Really?” Richards drops his arm, his eyes lighting up.

This feels a lot like we’re his parents, promising him a trip to Disneyland if he makes good grades. Only there’s no way we could conceive someone like him, because I’ve met goats more sophisticated than this man.

I hitch one shoulder up, not correcting Rory’s soon-to-be-broken promise.

Richards frowns. “Sex Slave chick needs to give it to me in writing. I don’t want her to run off with her boyfriend and fuck it up for us.”

I turn around to Rory, but she is no longer standing next to me. I think she got a phone call. Probably her boyfriend whining because he can’t see her after all.

When I turn back to Richards, he’s jumping to his feet, buttoning his jeans, and tucking a joint into the corner of his mouth. He slaps my back.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate you coming to get me. I was getting this weird vibe, you know? Like you didn’t like me very much. Like we didn’t gel.”

He says the word gel like I say the word cunt.

I remove his hand from me. “Couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Rory

Double shit with a side of crap.

Callum is here. In this building. Checking into a room with the receptionist.

Summer’s work, I’m sure.

After Mal slipped me the napkin with the new developments and our sudden Greek trip, I beckoned Summer for an emergency freak-out. I told her about the chocolate bar incident, which prompted her to slap Mal with the pet name Mal-Teaser. I also heard her plugging her vibrator into the charger and am pretty sure she was swiping left and right on Tinder, trying to find a playmate for the night.

“Please don’t do something stupid.” I closed my eyes and threw my head skyward, praying silently.

“Oh, honey, that’s rich,” she said, “considering you just out-stupided an avocado after less than a week in Ireland. I’m trying to make things better for you. Trust me, okay?”

I didn’t know if I should. I still don’t.