I smile as I walk along and listen.
“Harrison,” he barks. “Do you mind telling me why Malcolm just called to tell me that you were speeding down our street late last night? Said you were going way over the speed limit.”
He listens.
“Listen,” he barks. “I spoke to you about this only last week. You are driving way too fast for someone who only just got their license and I’m not putting up with it.” He listens again. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Why would Malcolm make this up?” He rolls his eyes in disgust. “Malcolm is not trying to get you into trouble. No, I warned you. You’ve lost your car for a month.”
He listens again, his face murderous.
I chuckle and turn to see Jay and Christopher trailing behind us, still looking at a phone. “What are you two doing?” I snap.
“Looking for something,” Chris replies. He gestures at Tristan. “Who’s he yelling at?”
“One guess.” I sigh.
Jameson smirks. “What did Harry do now?”
“Speeding.”
“Hand your keys over to your mother right now, young man . . . or I am getting on the first flight home,” Tristan growls. “Do you understand me!”
He listens again.
“This may come as a shock to you, Harrison, but you are not invincible,” he snaps. “You’re going to cause an accident or, heaven forbid, kill yourself, and I’m not having it. Hand the damn keys over.”
“Dramatic bitch,” Jameson says as he rolls his eyes.
I laugh; watching Tristan navigate rebellious teenagers might just be my favorite pastime.
Tristan hangs up and stuffs his phone in his pocket, fuming mad. “That fucking kid, every single time I go away he gets into shit.” He punches his hand into his fist.
We walk into a bar and take a seat at the back; the waitress approaches us. “What will it be?”
“I’ll have a Blue Label Scotch please,” Tristan replies way too fast. “Actually, make it a double.”
“I’ll have a Corona.” I smile; nobody riles Tristan up like Harry does.
“Same,” Christopher replies.
“Make that three,” Jameson says.
Christopher laughs as they see something on Jameson’s phone, and then they pass it over to me.
“What’s this?” I ask as I take the phone from them. I look at the screen and see a photo of myself and frown as I try to make sense of it. “What is this?”
“This dating app is using your photograph.” Christopher smirks.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I snap. “Surely anyone with half a brain knows that I would never go on a dating app.”
“Well, you look pretty and they’re just using your image to hook up with chicks.” Tristan smiles. “However, if they really wanted to pull the chicks they should have used my photo.”
I scroll through the app angrily. “Where do I report this shit? I want this taken down immediately.”
“There should be some kind of info or admin section,” Christopher says as our drinks arrive. The boys fall into conversation and I keep flicking through the app as I look for a contact page where I can report this piece of shit. I’m scrolling through when something catches my eye, the ugliest cat I have ever seen, fat and hairy with bulging eyes. Who the fuck would use that as a profile picture on a dating app?
My eyes roam over the profile and the name Pinkie Leroo.