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“Fuck off.”

“No need to be like that, buddy. There’s enough to go around. Bitches these days get around so much they need at least two dicks in them to feel anything.”

“Or you just have a tiny fucking dick,” Starling snaps as I roll off her.

She shoves her top back down, pissed off. But not half as pissed as me.

“Smart mouth, bitch. Bet you won’t say shit if my cock was in your throat.”

I stand up and take a step toward him, and the guy finally wises up. Either that, or he gets a look at the murderous expression on my face, because he backs up, hands in the air.

“Didn’t know she was yours, dude. Figured she was fair game. Bitches come here all the time to get dogged.”

“At lunchtime on a school day?” Starling snorts.

I take another step toward him, but he turns and runs.

Starling reaches up and grabs my hand, surprising me. “Just let him go. I’m hungry.”

I watch the guy turn and head back toward the parking lot and sigh. “Fine. You win.”

I sit down and grab the bottle of sparkling wine.

“I can’t drink, not if I’m going back to school. They’ll lose their minds.”

“It’s non-alcoholic, don’t worry. Like sparkling grape juice. Shit, I left the corkscrew in the car. Start eating, and I’ll be right back.”

I kiss her and leave before she tells me not to bother. I feel the corkscrew in my pocket as I turn toward the pink-shirt guy’s car.

He’s on his cell phone, pacing in front of his car again, talking loudly. “They were practically fucking,” he exclaims. I ease his back door open, slip inside, and pull the door closed before lying down on the back seat. I spot a rope on the floor of the car and grab it, testing its strength. Not bad.

Eventually, the driver-side door opens, and pink shirt climbs in. He snaps his seatbelt into place as I sit up, wrap the rope around his neck from behind, and pull hard. The guy grabs for the rope, clawing at the fibers, but he can’t get any leverage.

“Nobody talks to my wife like that,” I tell him, pulling harder. I keep pulling, choking him until he stops breathing and his body starts twitching.

I make sure he’s dead before I climb out, taking the rope with me. I dump it in the trunk of my car and head back to Starling, who’s eating a chocolate-dipped strawberry when I return.

I hold up the corkscrew. “Got it.”

Sitting down, I pour us each a glass and hold one out for her. “How about a toast?”

“A toast to what?” she asks, taking the sparkling wine.

“Not what, who. Mr. and Mrs. Peters.”

She hesitates, unsure, but clinks her plastic glass against mine before taking a sip.

“So, how’s the food?”

“Good. The strawberries are my favorite.” She takes another one and bites it. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything. I can’t guarantee you’ll always like the answer,” I tell her, lifting the glass to my lips.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to work things out with Abbot?”

I tense but don’t react in anger. “I’m not sure the common ground is stable enough for both of us. Not when I hate that he had you first, and he’ll hate that I’ll have you last.

“We broke up, you know? Before you lost your mind and dragged me to Vegas, we ended it.”