You totally need to watch the news." "Can't." "Why?" "It's too depressing." "Right, because hanging with dead people isn't.
Cook, at that moment in time, I would have sold my body for a mocha latte
Want coffee?" I asked, as I headed that way. "It's three thirty in the morning." "Okay. Want coffee?
Oh, my god!" I said, throwing my hands over my eyes and hurtling my body against the counter. "What?" "You're naked." "I'm not naked." "I'm blind." "You're not blind. I'm wearing pants." "Oh." That was embarrassing.
After a geological epoch passed in which single-celled organisms evolved into talk show hosts, Mr. Coffee was still holding out on me.
You called me at four thirty-four....I hate four thirty-four. I think four thirty-four should be banned and replaced with something more reasonable, like, say, nine twelve.
But give up my business? The same business I'd built from the ground up with my own two hands and designer Louis Vuittons? The same business for which I'd sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears? Well, maybe not sweat and tears, but there was blood. Lots of blood. Give it up? Not likely. Besides, what else would I do? I totally should've gone to Hogwarts when I had the chance.
Jesus may love you, but i'm his favourite
I'd never taken to four foot creatures who had the uncanny ability to point out all my flaws in thirty second flat. And just for the record, I can too read without moving my lips.
No. This has to do with drugs." My jaw fell open and I almost lost my toothbrush. "You're on drugs?" She pressed her mouth together. "No. You are." "I'm on drugs?" I asked, stunned. I had no idea.
Mistakes were made. Others were blamed.
After a long, labored sigh, I said, “She was really happy when I got there. I’m pretty sure she was suicidal when I left.” “You do have that effect on people.
God I loved Sammy. I’d considered marrying him, but his wife got upset when I asked for his hand.
I was never really certain why he scared the bejesus out of me. Nothing scared me growing up. I’ve been playing with dead people since the day I was born, so it’s good thing, yet the Big Bad scared me. Which brings me to the reason I called.” “Which was to give me nightmares for the rest of my life?” “Oh, no, that’s just a plus. Why was I so scared of him?” “Hon, for one thing he was this powerful, massive, black smokelike being.” “So, you’re saying I’m a racist?
He had threatened my parents. I had to remember that. Still, it was really hard to stay mad at a wounded naked man.
But, you're his son," I said, trying really hard to hate him. "You're the son of Satan. Literally." "And you are the stepdaughter of Denise Davidson." Wow. That was a bit harsh, but, "Okay, point taken.
You either fainted or you wanted a much closer look at the cracks in the tile. Either way, you hit hard." "Seriously?" He nodded. "Maybe you shouldn't have been trying to make out with him," he suggested. How did he know that? "I was kissing him good-bye." He snorted and exchanged glances with the nurse. "That's not what it looked like to me." Probably not. But what happened? Could Reyes Farrow take control over me even from a freaking coma? I was doomed.
Garrett must have sensed I was awake. "Hey Detective," he said to Uncle Bob, who was now trudging across the grating toward us. "I think we're losing her. I have no choice but to perform mouth-to-mouth." "Don't you dare," I said, my lids still in lockdown.
See you in a few. Hold down the fort, Mr. Wong!
She looked at me, confused. “He hardly knew me. My parents dated and got married before we knew what happened. Let’s just say we were not brought into the loop on that decision.” “That’s weird. I wasn’t brought into the loop with my parents’ marriage either.” “Really? How old were you?” “Twelve months.” She giggled. “I can’t imagine why they didn’t ask your opinion.
Man, I want to be someone's forbidden fruit." "Well, you are pretty fruity.
I have them a few minutes to absorb everything while I teased Ubie, who only had to recover from his near-death experience. I was so glad Reyes hadn't ripped him to shreds. I liked him much better un-shredded. Unlike, say, my preference for lettuce or heavy metal guitar solos.
What did one say to a stalker? Um, pardon me, Mr.Stalker, but could you, like, not?
We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, "I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry.
Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick.
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