“Calm your tits, she-devil,” Darci barks, motioning for our redheaded darling to have a seat at the foot of the bed. “All she said so far was Lyle’s got a huge, bedazzled bologna pony.”

“Who’s got a huge, bedazzled bologna pony?” Liz’s curious voice probes from the living room. “Wait. We better not be discussing my baby brother,” she adds, realizing her mistake as her socked feet skid to a stop in the doorway.

“Hey,” Margo shrugs with her arms crossed over her chest. “No one invited you.”

Squawk! “Intruder alert!” Maui bellows right into my ear.

“Shh,” I admonish. “It’s just Liz.”

“It’s just Liz,” she mimics. “Thanks a lot.” The willowy brunette feigns offense. “I don’t know what endears you to that thing,” she says, referring to my pet. “He’s so rude.”

“He’s a sweet, sweet baby,” I coo, scruffing the feathers behind his neck. “And your nephew now, so be nice.”

“I’m a demigod,” he declares.

“Yes, well, you are that too,” I agree as I stretch to place him on his play perch on the opposite side of the bed and away from my guests, where he’ll be more comfortable.

“Back to the man meat. Focus, woman!” Darci snaps her fingers. “What kind of piercing? Let we who are cursed with plain peckers live vicariously through you.”

“Stop!” Liz holds up a hand. “Come on guys…he’s my little brother. Can y’all do this later when I’m not around?”

“Yep,” I say, thankful for the reprieve. “What’re you doing here anyway?” I realize how badly that could be interpreted and follow it quickly with, “Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course!”

“Lyle asked me to pick you and the girls up so we could keep you company while running errands today.”

“He did, did he?” He must be really worried I’ll forget to pick up that license. I can’t deny that his enthusiasm has my heart skipping a beat.

“He did.” She nods. “He also sent Frank.”

“Frank? His security guy?”

“Yep.” She beams. “That’s the one.”

I’ve met Frank a few times when our families have gone out to dinner together over the years. He’s usually somewhere in the background keeping fans at bay. “Does he really think I need a bodyguard?”

“Apparently.” She shrugs. “Get dressed. The poor guy’s waiting in the car outside your apartment.” Her head shakes. “I invited him in, but he insisted he could serve you better by keeping surveillance out there.”

“Give me a few minutes.” I hold out a finger before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. I throw on a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a thin mauve sweater, wedged booties, and a few chunky bracelets. After spraying my roots with dry shampoo, I use the flat iron to freshen up my curls and artfully apply a full face of makeup.