“Yes, I saw him at lunch. He’s pale and has a bit of a cough still, but he’s fine. Now can we speak?”

“Aren’t we speaking?” he asked.

“In private.” It came out almost as a snap.

At that moment, I felt the mood and looked to the other three men. None of whom I’d met or seen. All of whom looked curious, and didn’t hide it, and immensely amused, and didn’t hide that either.

The latter was the mood in the room.

That also didn’t embarrass me.

It didn’t make sense either. I didn’t find anything funny.

“Why don’t you take her to your room, Joke?” one of the guys suggested.

“Yes, let’s go there,” I agreed.

There was a truncated guffaw, which was truncated when I looked to the man who was emitting it. He pressed his lips together, but the minute he did, his eyes got huge, like biting back his humor was going to make his head explode.

“Hall,” Joker said and I looked to him.

“Sorry?”

He was off his stool and jerking his head toward the back. “My room’s off the hall.”

“Right,” I said shortly, straightened my shoulders, and I very well might have flipped my ponytail as I whipped around and marched to the door that Joker had come out of yesterday. I did this not knowing that my marching had a lot of bounce associated with it. But I felt the eyes, so I did it very much knowing they all followed.

I made it to the doorway and heard Joker direct, “Left.”

I went left.

“Stop,” he ordered when I was two doors down from the end.

It wasn’t surprising it was a long hall considering it was a long building. But it was surprising the number of doors off it.

I stood outside one that was open and peered in.

It wasn’t big, it wasn’t tiny.

What it was was filthy.

I swallowed.

I sensed Joker close and looked to see he was standing on the opposite side of the door waving an arm toward the room.

I marched in.

He came in after me.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked as I was turning and saw he was closing the door.

“Your room needs to be cleaned,” I announced.

“What?” he asked.

“Your room,” I threw out an arm, “it needs to be cleaned.”

“I’ll get my maids on that,” he muttered, then asked, “Is that why you needed to speak in private?”

I shook my head, restraightened my shoulders, and declared, “I have a new tranny.”

His brows shot together. “Say again?”

I jerked a thumb to myself. “I have a new tranny.”

He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“A new transmission.”

“Know what a tranny is,” he stated.

“I have one,” I told him.