Right now I’m the Emoji with straight lines for eyes and mouth with a gun pointing at it––and I’m not talking the squirt gun. Like I said, after he takes a long look at me, he turns to her as says, “No.” I haven’t seen her blink in like three minutes and it’s disconcerting, downright creepy actually. How does she do this? Allow me to explain, by forcing her eyes wide open. Then his eyes move back to the woman who is trying her hardest not to stare at him with serious yearning in her eyes. She’s either the most incredibly stupid woman I’ve ever met, or arguably the craftiest.Īt the sound of me clearing my throat, Calvin takes an extra long, heavy lidded glance in my direction. I have to lock down the urge to snicker every time. He glares at her and she misses the look. She brushes his forearm again, probably for the tenth time today I stopped counting at eight. “You don’t like it?” she asks with a brittle, nervous smile. He stares at the heavy, dark wood coffee table with as close to contempt as I’ve seen on his face. A black cashmere hoodie with designer distressed jeans and biker boots that no biker on this planet could ever afford. I say ‘peacock’ because today he has another one of his snazzy designer outfits on. The decorating consultant, an attractive woman in her early thirties with a perpetual smile on her face that the peacock has hired, doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job consulting. No, I think it looks like dog shit, but no one is asking me.

“You’re coming with me.” Standing away from the doorframe, he turns to leave. “You’ve been checking out my underwear?” There he goes again with his nonquestion. A half-century later, I’m still waiting for an explanation for this impromptu visit.

He chews his food slowly and continues to stare, his expression not giving a thing away. “Then why can’t you put on underwear that isn’t about to disintegrate if a strong wind blows?” Lordy, did I just use the word ‘blow’ again? I’m so cringing inside.

P dangelico wrecking ball