photo downstairs (after we’d
finally located a simple white wall to use as a backdrop), the
three of us briefly talked to Jonas, who told us the meeting with
the feds is going down later today at one o’clock Washington
time.
“You three need to be ready to transfer the money as
early as one thirty Washington time,” Jonas warned during our call.
“I doubt we’ll be asked to do it that quickly—I’m guessing the
meeting with the feds will take hours—but you have to be at the
ready, just in case.”
“Sure thing, bro,” Josh said. “No problemo .”
After we hung up from our call with Jonas, I
suddenly felt like I was gonna melt onto the floor with exhaustion.
“I’m gonna get into my jammies, get nice and cozy in my bed, and do
some reading before I drift off to sleep,” I told Josh and
Henn. “Nighty-night, boys.”
“Okay, Kitty Kat,” Henn said. “I’ve got everything I
need now. See you in the morning.” And off he went.
“How ’bout I come to your room with you?” Josh
offered, pulling me into him.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m going in alone. It’s finally
time for me to find out what kind of
perverted-sick-fuck-goat-fucker you really are, Joshua William
Faraday. No distractions.”
Josh pressed himself into me. “Aw, come on, PG. I’ll
lie next to you in bed while you read. That way I can answer any
questions you might have.”
“No way, Playboy,” I replied.
“I’ll massage your feet while you read.”
I paused, considering. I really love a good foot
massage. “No,” I finally said. “No more distractions.
Nighty-night.”
And now, here I am. Finally. Sitting in bed in my
tank top and undies with my computer on my lap, a huge smile on my
face and an Avicii song blaring through my speakers (“Addicted to
You,” featuring vocals by my new obsession, Audra Mae).
I quickly check my phone. I’ve been horrible about
replying to texts and emails since coming to Sin City. This whole
trip has been like entering some sort of
Twilight-Zone-alternate-dimension. I scroll through my texts. I’ve
got a text from my mom, asking me to call her so she can “hear my
voice.” No rush there. And a text from my oldest brother, Colby,
(addressing me as Kumquat), asking me if I’ve gambled away next
month’s rent yet and telling me to call Mom so she can “hear my
voice.”
There’s a text from my baby brother, Dax,
(addressing me as Jizz), informing me he used the extra key to my
apartment to “hang out” in my place for a few days and, oh yeah, by
the way, oops, he ate all my food.
I’ve got a text from Hannah at work, telling me she
misses her lunch buddy and asking me to call her whenever. I wince.
Hannah’s really picked up my slack at work while I’ve been gone. I
owe her big-time.
I’ve got a text from Sarah from an hour ago, telling
me she and Jonas landed in Washington D.C. and are set to meet at
FBI headquarters later this afternoon. “Oh muh guh,” Sarah wrote.
“I’m crapping my pants. But Jonas is cool as a cucumber about the
whole thing so he’s keeping me sane.”
I smile at that last sentence. Jonas is keeping Sarah sane? Gotta love those two.
“Go get ’em, girl,” I reply to Sarah’s text. “You’re
gonna blow all those fancy G-men away. The Vegas branch of our crew
is standing by.”
And, finally, there’s a text from Josh from five
minutes ago: “Hey, PG. Do me a favor and text me the minute you’re
done reading my application,” he writes. “You don’t have to tell me
what you think about it. Just tell me when you’ve read it or else I
won’t be able to fall asleep.”
“Will do,” I reply. “I’m about to start reading
now.”
His reply is instantaneous. “Just keep an open
mind,” he writes. “Just remember when I wrote that thing, I was
really upset.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t sweat it, PB. How bad can
it be?”
“Um... ” he writes.
I’ve got a pit in my stomach. “I’ll text you when
I’m done,” I
finally located a simple white wall to use as a backdrop), the
three of us briefly talked to Jonas, who told us the meeting with
the feds is going down later today at one o’clock Washington
time.
“You three need to be ready to transfer the money as
early as one thirty Washington time,” Jonas warned during our call.
“I doubt we’ll be asked to do it that quickly—I’m guessing the
meeting with the feds will take hours—but you have to be at the
ready, just in case.”
“Sure thing, bro,” Josh said. “No problemo .”
After we hung up from our call with Jonas, I
suddenly felt like I was gonna melt onto the floor with exhaustion.
“I’m gonna get into my jammies, get nice and cozy in my bed, and do
some reading before I drift off to sleep,” I told Josh and
Henn. “Nighty-night, boys.”
“Okay, Kitty Kat,” Henn said. “I’ve got everything I
need now. See you in the morning.” And off he went.
“How ’bout I come to your room with you?” Josh
offered, pulling me into him.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m going in alone. It’s finally
time for me to find out what kind of
perverted-sick-fuck-goat-fucker you really are, Joshua William
Faraday. No distractions.”
Josh pressed himself into me. “Aw, come on, PG. I’ll
lie next to you in bed while you read. That way I can answer any
questions you might have.”
“No way, Playboy,” I replied.
“I’ll massage your feet while you read.”
I paused, considering. I really love a good foot
massage. “No,” I finally said. “No more distractions.
Nighty-night.”
And now, here I am. Finally. Sitting in bed in my
tank top and undies with my computer on my lap, a huge smile on my
face and an Avicii song blaring through my speakers (“Addicted to
You,” featuring vocals by my new obsession, Audra Mae).
I quickly check my phone. I’ve been horrible about
replying to texts and emails since coming to Sin City. This whole
trip has been like entering some sort of
Twilight-Zone-alternate-dimension. I scroll through my texts. I’ve
got a text from my mom, asking me to call her so she can “hear my
voice.” No rush there. And a text from my oldest brother, Colby,
(addressing me as Kumquat), asking me if I’ve gambled away next
month’s rent yet and telling me to call Mom so she can “hear my
voice.”
There’s a text from my baby brother, Dax,
(addressing me as Jizz), informing me he used the extra key to my
apartment to “hang out” in my place for a few days and, oh yeah, by
the way, oops, he ate all my food.
I’ve got a text from Hannah at work, telling me she
misses her lunch buddy and asking me to call her whenever. I wince.
Hannah’s really picked up my slack at work while I’ve been gone. I
owe her big-time.
I’ve got a text from Sarah from an hour ago, telling
me she and Jonas landed in Washington D.C. and are set to meet at
FBI headquarters later this afternoon. “Oh muh guh,” Sarah wrote.
“I’m crapping my pants. But Jonas is cool as a cucumber about the
whole thing so he’s keeping me sane.”
I smile at that last sentence. Jonas is keeping Sarah sane? Gotta love those two.
“Go get ’em, girl,” I reply to Sarah’s text. “You’re
gonna blow all those fancy G-men away. The Vegas branch of our crew
is standing by.”
And, finally, there’s a text from Josh from five
minutes ago: “Hey, PG. Do me a favor and text me the minute you’re
done reading my application,” he writes. “You don’t have to tell me
what you think about it. Just tell me when you’ve read it or else I
won’t be able to fall asleep.”
“Will do,” I reply. “I’m about to start reading
now.”
His reply is instantaneous. “Just keep an open
mind,” he writes. “Just remember when I wrote that thing, I was
really upset.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t sweat it, PB. How bad can
it be?”
“Um... ” he writes.
I’ve got a pit in my stomach. “I’ll text you when
I’m done,” I
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