“Yeah. They reminded me of Pratt too. Let’s just—well, hello, L1s.”

North blew up the picture of Chouteau College’s first-year law students, turning the phone so Shaw could see it. Stefan Jeppesen was in the second row, right next to the Romney boy asshole from the night before.

“All of them?” Shaw said. “They’re all going to be lawyers?”

“They’re assholes,” North said. “Big surprise.”

“Not all assholes are lawyers.”

“I know. But these are. I think you maybe want to make a call.”

“You know what?” Shaw said, touching to make sure his hair hadn’t fallen out of its bun. “Cousin Rodney has been dying to hear from me.”

5

THE CALL WENT ABOUT as well as Shaw could have hoped, and they lucked out on Uber because Clarisse hadn’t gone far; she dropped them off at the Radio Girls twenty minutes later.

“I think your balls start to shrink,” North said as they stepped into the bar. “I think I read that.”

“Balls don’t start to shrink, or else yours would have been a pair of grapes a long time ago.”

“It was a bad breakup. I get it. You’re still working through a lot of the stuff Benny did at the end.”

“I’m not working through it.” Shaw scanned the room; the bros were back, fifteen of them tonight, so loud that they threatened to drown out the thud of house music. “I’m processing it. There’s a difference.”

“And while you’re processing it, your balls are drying up. I bet it’s like the Mojave down there. Just sand and some old, gray pubes you didn’t catch when you shaved.”

“My pubes are not—” Shaw managed to reel himself back from the conversation.

North was grinning.

“You’re a jerk right now.”

“I’m excited. We’re about to get rid of these assholes.”

“Well. Almost.”

“You called Cousin Rodney.”

“I did.”

“You said he’d take care of it.”

“He will.”

“So what’s the almost?”

“Cousin Rodney needs proof.”

“Proof? What kind of proof? Are we supposed to take a picture of them next to that autographed photo of Greta Garbo? Should we get signed affidavits that these bros are homophobic assholes who invaded a lesbian bar? Or will Cousin Rodney be satisfied with DNA samples and a sworn deposition?”

Before Shaw could answer, Pari emerged from the dancing floor, tugging Chuck behind her. She wrapped Shaw in a hug, then North, then said, “Thank God you’re here. They’re worse than usual tonight.”

“Worse?” North asked.

“They grabbed my ass,” Chuck said in her sweetly husky voice. “One guy got his fingers under the waistband and gave me a pinch. I’m going to be bruised for a week.”

“We can get them on that,” Shaw said. “Pari, did you see it?”

“I’ll say I saw it.”

Shaw was shaking his head. “We need something solid. Security cameras?”