out a taunting laugh between her lips. “Elbow macaroni has more curl than that, Nimrod.”
Taking a step forward, he crosses his arms and glowers at her. “Oh, yeah? Well, scissors stay closed more than your legs do, obviously!”
Morgan jerks her head back with a mix of confusion and amusement. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know! Shut up, Morticia!” Rod pouts and gives me a side-glance as I cover my mouth with my hands.
“Watch it, Beckett.”
Morgan bumps my arm. “Yeah, Hadley, or you’ll be hit with a Rodism that will leave you curled into a ball, hugging your teddy bear on a shrink’s couch.”
I waggle my finger, indicating both of them. “You two need to hold hands or something. Hug it out.”
Rod scoffs, “And you can sit and spin.”
Morgan says to Rod, “You know what she’d really love to sit and spin on.”
Rod eagerly nods with a knowing smile. “Wilder’s dick?”
Morgan cocks her head, giving him an innocent look. “Gee, Rod. I wasn’t implying that at all, but I’m glad you could clear it up for us.”
I grumble, “You know. You two always talk about me as if I’m not standing right here.”
They both give me blank expressions. Rod credulously asks, “Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Why do I even bother?”
Morgan answers, “I haven’t the slightest clue.”
As I check the wall clock, Morgan oddly pulls on Rod’s arm. “I want to ask you something and you have to promise to have an open mind.”
He yanks his arm out of her grasp. “No, I will not claim your child as my own! That would raise a lot of questions around the office since it’ll have horns and hooves, not to mention I’m not black!”
She scowls. “Neither is Ivan, you airhead. I’m being serious, Ass Rod—Greg.” She anxiously tucks hair behind her ears and scans her eyes over the gym for witnesses. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in DJ’ing my wedding?”
Rod gapes at Morgan in bewilderment. I again look at the huge clock wondering when he’s going to snap out of it. “Are you fucking serious? Are you joking? You’re yanking my dick, aren’t you?”
We both cringe and Morgan shrieks , “Eww! Don’t even put that mental picture in my head! God!”
He grabs Morgan by the shoulders and shakes her like a dirty carpet. “Yes! I’d love to! No fucking way! Thanks, Mortgage!”
She smacks his chest. “You’re going to give my child shaken baby syndrome!”
Still in his happy zone, he instead picks her up, swinging her around in a circle.
Morgan yelps and pounds her fists on his shoulders. “Put me down!” A couple people curiously look at the three of us, probably wondering if they should call the police.
No need. I have my own officer on speed dial.
Rod sets her back down and immediately backs away. “Oh, sorry. I don’t want to make the pregnant woman hurl all over me.”
“ You already make me want to do that on a daily basis. Pregnant or not.”
He disdainfully frowns. “Funny.”
Morgan adds, “Yeah, especially since I’ve been having really bad morning sickness.”
He steps further back. “Gross!”
I examine her face. I haven’t even noticed she’s been sick. Some friend I am. “You’ve been sick?”
She warily nods and pats her stomach. “I know it’s called morning sickness and it can happen any time of the day, but mine has actually only been in the mornings. It stops around 11:00. It’s so weird.”
Rod slowly walks back to us. “Remind me to not walk by your office until after puke-thirty.” He then starts excitedly bouncing. “I’m so pumped! Anything you don’t want me playing at your bloodletting?”
She counts off on her fingers. “Heavy rap. Strictly country. Polka. ‘The Chicken Dance’. I hate that song. No Manilow, either. Ugh. Everything else is cool. Make it a good mix. I’ll give you a list of all the songs we want played for the bridal dances.”
“Does this mean I don’t have
Taking a step forward, he crosses his arms and glowers at her. “Oh, yeah? Well, scissors stay closed more than your legs do, obviously!”
Morgan jerks her head back with a mix of confusion and amusement. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know! Shut up, Morticia!” Rod pouts and gives me a side-glance as I cover my mouth with my hands.
“Watch it, Beckett.”
Morgan bumps my arm. “Yeah, Hadley, or you’ll be hit with a Rodism that will leave you curled into a ball, hugging your teddy bear on a shrink’s couch.”
I waggle my finger, indicating both of them. “You two need to hold hands or something. Hug it out.”
Rod scoffs, “And you can sit and spin.”
Morgan says to Rod, “You know what she’d really love to sit and spin on.”
Rod eagerly nods with a knowing smile. “Wilder’s dick?”
Morgan cocks her head, giving him an innocent look. “Gee, Rod. I wasn’t implying that at all, but I’m glad you could clear it up for us.”
I grumble, “You know. You two always talk about me as if I’m not standing right here.”
They both give me blank expressions. Rod credulously asks, “Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Why do I even bother?”
Morgan answers, “I haven’t the slightest clue.”
As I check the wall clock, Morgan oddly pulls on Rod’s arm. “I want to ask you something and you have to promise to have an open mind.”
He yanks his arm out of her grasp. “No, I will not claim your child as my own! That would raise a lot of questions around the office since it’ll have horns and hooves, not to mention I’m not black!”
She scowls. “Neither is Ivan, you airhead. I’m being serious, Ass Rod—Greg.” She anxiously tucks hair behind her ears and scans her eyes over the gym for witnesses. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in DJ’ing my wedding?”
Rod gapes at Morgan in bewilderment. I again look at the huge clock wondering when he’s going to snap out of it. “Are you fucking serious? Are you joking? You’re yanking my dick, aren’t you?”
We both cringe and Morgan shrieks , “Eww! Don’t even put that mental picture in my head! God!”
He grabs Morgan by the shoulders and shakes her like a dirty carpet. “Yes! I’d love to! No fucking way! Thanks, Mortgage!”
She smacks his chest. “You’re going to give my child shaken baby syndrome!”
Still in his happy zone, he instead picks her up, swinging her around in a circle.
Morgan yelps and pounds her fists on his shoulders. “Put me down!” A couple people curiously look at the three of us, probably wondering if they should call the police.
No need. I have my own officer on speed dial.
Rod sets her back down and immediately backs away. “Oh, sorry. I don’t want to make the pregnant woman hurl all over me.”
“ You already make me want to do that on a daily basis. Pregnant or not.”
He disdainfully frowns. “Funny.”
Morgan adds, “Yeah, especially since I’ve been having really bad morning sickness.”
He steps further back. “Gross!”
I examine her face. I haven’t even noticed she’s been sick. Some friend I am. “You’ve been sick?”
She warily nods and pats her stomach. “I know it’s called morning sickness and it can happen any time of the day, but mine has actually only been in the mornings. It stops around 11:00. It’s so weird.”
Rod slowly walks back to us. “Remind me to not walk by your office until after puke-thirty.” He then starts excitedly bouncing. “I’m so pumped! Anything you don’t want me playing at your bloodletting?”
She counts off on her fingers. “Heavy rap. Strictly country. Polka. ‘The Chicken Dance’. I hate that song. No Manilow, either. Ugh. Everything else is cool. Make it a good mix. I’ll give you a list of all the songs we want played for the bridal dances.”
“Does this mean I don’t have
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