Zander says, answering my call. “You fuck Maddy Milliken yet?”“Naw,” I say, foregoing any kind of formal greeting. “She’s been declared off-limits, remember?”“I must admit I don’t see that as a substantial impediment.”I exhale into the phone. “I’m in bad shape, sweet meat. I need your expert counsel.”“Tell me all about it, pretty baby. I’ll be your shoulder to cry on.”“Dude, I’m fucked up in the head.”“Tell me.”“I don’t want this chick, Zander, I really don’t. She’s not like anything I ever go for. First off, she’s super smart and you know I don’t dabble in smart girls. I mean, dude, get this: Maddy’s so smart, she hasn’t fallen for any of my tricks.”“None of them?”“Not a one.”“You flash her the dimples?”“A million times. With extra sauce.”“You flash her the abs?”“Of course. I even did the thing where I walk on my hands.”“Ooph. How’d your elbow hold up?”“It hurt, but I didn’t care.”“And she didn’t go nuts over your abs?”“She clapped and cheered like I was a seal at the circus.”“But did your T-shirt ride up when you were upside down?”“All the way up.”“Impossible.”“See?
