I jump up and down. “Please, pretty please, can we get a hamburger? Please, please, please!”

I know this is going to get to him. Trevor hates extravagances. “God, what is wrong with you, seriously?”

“And I don’t want to eat out. I want to bring it back to the Redmond Apts.”

He shoots me another evil look, then says “Come here.” I scream as he locks me in a wrestling neck hold and scratches the top of my head. I play-scream and then he pushes me away from him, walking ahead of me.

I run to catch up with him and impale myself on his arm again. I skip as we go, giggling and laughing some more. Just like I used to do when the ice cream truck would drive through the neighborhood, and I’d beg him to buy me a Fudgsicle.

“Oh, look,” I say, “what a perfect name for a liquor store!” The sign reads I <3 Liquor. “Can we go in, please? Can we, please? Can we, please? Huh?”

“You know, I know exactly what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work.”

“Yuh-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

I break from him and run into the liquor store. I grab a bottle of his favorite Jameson, some club soda, and a bottle of Pinot Grigio for me. By the time he arrives inside, I’m already in line. He falls in beside me, shaking his head. I giggle and blow him a kiss.

There is a girl ahead of us wearing jeans that barely cover her ass. I can’t help but stare. She’s a little big but nice and round.

Trevor notices, looking down at me. “You’re funny,” he says.

“How am I funny?”

His eyes gaze into mine with that look that launches my longings again. “Just funny.”

“Can I help you?” says the gorgeous black girl behind the counter. I can’t help but stare at her stunning eyes and luscious pierced lips. Yeah, I’m fully activated. I want to throw myself at those lips right now and flick that piercing with my tongue.

Trevor takes the bottles from me and places them on the counter. This time I let him pay, with another giggle.

Once we’re back out on Collins Ave, I link up with his left arm and say, “I know what you want.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” I drag him left at Lincoln Road, past the creepy guys who hang around the bus stop.

“Shut up, Smudge. Don’t go there.”

“I know what you want,” I sing in an up-and-down musical tone.

“It’s not going to work,” he says.

“What’s not going to work?”

“Whatever you’re doing. I know you. You want what you want. You always get your way, being the youngest and all. It works with your dad, but it will never work with me.”

I stop in front of the TD Bank at Washington and face him, pressing my breasts up into him. “What won’t work?”

“Convincing me to go to some fancy restaurant. They’re all way to pricey around here, and most of them suck.”

I squint while looking at him and point behind me. He smiles. “You’re not serious.”

“Why did I drag you one block? Think, Trevor, think!”

I watch his eyes as they fixate on a spot behind me. “I can see why.”

I giggle, turn, and run against the Don’t Walk sign across Washington and into Trevor’s favorite restaurant of all time.

Just as he arrives behind me, I say to the cashier, “Three hamburgers, two Filet O’ Fishes, a large fries, and a small fries. To go.”

I swipe my debit card again. Thanks, Zander. I’ll pay you back, I swear, I promise.

“You know you’re fucking ridiculous, don’t you?” says Trevor when we’re back out on the street, McDonald’s bag in hand, crossing over to James Ave and back to the Redmond Apts.

I lean up into his ear. “Yeah, well guess what?”

“What?”

“I think you like fucking ridiculous.”

Chapter 3

We’re on the couch watching TV, stuffed with fast food, and somewhat drunk. Or at least I am.

The talking heads babble endlessly about Donald Trump, who is apparently the only subject allowed on television tonight. I don’t pay much attention to politics, even though I have a sense of where I stand.

“That’s a funny sign over the door,” I say.

“What sign?” says Trevor.

“Redmond Apts. Not apartments. Just apts. That’s what I’m going to call it. The Redmond Apts.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I resemble that remark.” I fall into a fit of giggles.

“Hey, this place is semi-famous. It was in an episode of Miami Vice.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, Crockett and Tubbs came through that door and yelled, ‘Freeze!’”

“Didn’t they do that in every episode?”

“Yeah, but once right here.”

“And you know this how?”

“I was here, watching them shoot it. I stood off to the side out front. Back in those days, there was no courtyard or hedge. They widened the sidewalk, so back then this window behind us was right on the street.”

“You’re boring, you know. A boring old man.”

He puts me in another headlock and scratches my head while I play-scream. When he’s done, I use it as an opportunity to snuggle closer to him on the couch. He doesn’t move away from me, which tells me my plan is working.

We watch the talking heads blather about Donald Trump some more.

“I hate his toupee,” I say.

“It’s not a toupee,” says Trevor, play-hitting me.

“Yes, it is! Look at that… thing.”

“There was an episode of The Apprentice where he was standing in a windstorm at a construction site. No toupee would have ever survived this wind. You’re delusional.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re a moron!”

“Oh yeah? Well, Smudge, you’re a whiny brat!”

I squint my eyes and do my best Robert DeNiro. “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?” Trevor laughs and falls off the couch. “So much for your ability to handle Jameson, tough guy.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tweedle-Ditz.”

“Oh no! No, no, no! You promised never to call me that again! For that, you get punished!” I leap onto the floor and attack Trevor, throwing slaps and punches this way and that. “Tickle fight!”

It’s all a bunch of fantastic laughs until . . . oh my God . . . until . . . he pulls me onto his face and kisses me.

This time he means it.

Yes! Success!

He claws at me as I spread my legs across his thick muscular torso. I expertly undo his shirt and get my hands all over his hard naked chest and down to his abs.

Oh God, they’re solid!

A new wave of ravenous yearning sweeps over me. I press my crotch downward over his thickness while licking his neck and drawing a line down to the tattoos I know so well.

He caught me drawing a picture of them once in my sketchbook. For some reason, he got mad and ripped it out. I ran back into the house and cried. Another unsolved Trevor mystery.

Right now, I don’t care. I just want him inside me as soon as possible. As I glide myself downward, I undo his pants.

Another goddamned flash of Lukas Thorn hits me.

Stop it! Just stop it! Get out of my head, dickwad!

I grunt out loud to get the image away from me and rip Trevor’s pants down.

I don’t waste time. The cock I have sucked once before is again in my mouth.

Oh God! So good to have a cock in my mouth again! It’s been way too long!

As I suck, I catch Trevor looking down at me. His beautiful eyes are almost too much. I reach down and stroke my pussy.

I suck hard, and he launches a thick stream into my mouth.

Ohhhhhhh!

The day’s frustration, anger, energy, and sexual turmoil all rolled into one push me over the edge.

I come.

Ah.

Yessssssssssssss . . .

So good.

I rub my nub hard as more gobs of sweet white delight fill my mouth and run down my throat.

“Good girl,” says Lukas Thorn’s voice in my head from earlier.

Shut up! Shut the fuck up!

I growl out loud.

“You just came,” Trevor says.

I giggle and smile at him, swirling his come around my teeth. “Uh-huh.”