Catch Me
“Obviously.”
“Well, I can’t stay,” I say, “ So I’ll get right to it. Where’s my fucking phone?”
“Don’t have it,” Trey says, shrugging nonchalantly. He’s seated next to Bernadette, who is rolling her eyes. “Don’t know where it is.”
“Unlawful possession of pornography of a minor, tsk, tsk,” I say sweetly, loudly, placing my tray at the edge of their table. “What will the authorities say?”
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