“What?” Shaw said. “Go home. Pack your stuff up. Get ready to explain to Mommy and Daddy and the trust fund angels why you got kicked out of Chouteau Law. My partner and I have to settle this.”

“You can’t do that. You’re, like, totally fucking with the Me Too movement. You’re like making a mockery of it.”

For a moment, Shaw honestly had no words. He glanced at North.

Shrugging, North said, “He’s kind of right.”

“Guess that makes us a really special kind of asshole, doesn’t it?”

North nodded.

“Does it make it any better that we were aided and abetted by a pair of lesbians?”

North rocked his hand.

Then, looking back at the Romney boy, Shaw said, “You’re still here?”

“Listen, we won’t come back. These dykes won’t ever hear from us again. Just don’t send that picture.”

“Ouch. You shouldn’t have called them dykes.”

“And he shouldn’t have said anything about your face,” North said before punching Romney boy so hard that he popped right out of his loafers.

6

THEY SAID COMPLIMENTARY drinks,” North said, grabbing the cherry bobbing at the top of Shaw’s glass and popping it in his mouth. “But six Cokes in a half hour seems like you’re stretching their generosity.”

Shaw’s feet were tapping. His hands skittered along the bar. He looked ready to crawl out of his skin, and he was so pretty North could have died.

Daksha and Bud approached from behind the bar, passing an envelope to North which he tucked behind the small of his back.

“Thanks,” Daksha said.

“It’s a little too ‘white savior’ for me,” Bud said as she shook their hands. “But thank you.”

“You’re white,” Shaw said.

Bud glared at him as he slurped more Coke.

“We should get going,” North said, tugging him off the stool. Shaw stretched out his neck, trying to get a little more Coke before North dragged him away. “If they bother you again, let us know.”

“It’s early,” Shaw complained as they crossed the rapidly emptying dance floor. “I don’t understand why people get tired. Are you tired? I feel great. I feel like I could go all night. I mean, you definitely look tired. You probably shouldn’t have had that second beer, but maybe you’re not sleeping enough, I always try to get nine hours, ten if I can, but—”

“You’re caffeinated to the gills,” North said, giving Shaw a little shake as he steered him across the dance floor. “And you’re annoying as fuck like this, so let’s play a game where you try not to talk until we get home.”

“To your home? Or to my home? Oops.” Shaw covered his mouth with one hand. Then, speaking through his fingers, he said, “Sorry. I just don’t understand why you won’t—”