No words…I have no words. I squeeze my eyes shut and howl with laughter. When I finally open my eyes, through the haze of hysterical laughter-tears, I see conversation around us has come to a halt. All the brothers are staring at Sparky.

“What?” Sparky shrugs and sits back down. “It’s different.”

“I think what Sparky’s trying to say,” Dex explains, “is people use ‘birds and bees’ as a cutesy euphemism for teaching kids about sex and that in the case of the bees, it’s actually horrifying if you apply it to human sex.” Dex sits back and nods. “That’s great. Thanks for sharing, Professor Pot Plant.”

Ignoring him, or maybe he didn’t even hear him, Sparky leaps out of his chair again and jumps up, waving his hand in the air. “Boss! Boss! Can we get some beehives?”

Chuckling, Rock raises his glass and tips it in Sparky’s direction. “Whatever you want, brother.”

“Bro, bees are a lot of work,” Teller says not unkindly. “You’d have to actually leave the basement more than once a season.”

“What if I keep ‘em close to the house?” Sparky asks. He waves his hand in the air. “Like by the basement exit?”

Hope raises her hand. “Uh, have I ever mentioned my deathly fear of bees?”

Sparky gives her sad puppy eyes. “Oh no.” His face brightens and I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say. “The best cure for apiphobia would be probably be flooding. Lots and lots of exposure to bees, First Lady.”

She turns to Rock, who shakes his head.

Besides the wild things that fly out of his mouth, I have the feeling Sparky comes up with and discards a lot of ideas. But the brothers are kind and humor his eccentricities. Okay, kind is probably stretching it.

“Thank fuck some of the others went for a ride,” Teller mutters. He squeezes Charlotte’s hip. “I’m regretting not joining them.”

“No honey for you when I get my bees, you fuckwad,” Sparky says.

“Everything okay at Crystal Ball?” Z asks Dex.

Dex leans forward. “I miss you, bro. Christ, some of them are a pain in the ass. I caught Annie charging an extra twenty for hand jobs in the back and had to fire her.”

“I knew she wouldn’t last long,” Z says.

“Wait, you actively discourage that?” I ask.

They both stare at me. “We’re not running a whorehouse,” Dex says. “They get caught hustling for anything more than a lap dance, they’re out. We haven’t had an issue in a while now.”

I shrug. “When I danced, the owners didn’t care. Made it unsafe for all of us because customers didn’t know what to expect. Which girls to proposition and which ones would kick them in the nuts if they tried.”

Stash leans forward, suddenly interested in our conversation again. “I’m guessing you were the second one?”