“I should wear spandex,” I said. “Bring me my leotard.”
“You’ll sweat.” Nana riffled through the hangers. “And that means you’ll sweat alcohol. You’ll never impress your archnemesis by looking like a drunk ballerina.”
“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” I snapped at her.
“Sure you’re not,” she said.
“Hey,” Paul said. “Hey, guy Sandy had sex with.”
“That’s not his name,” I called out to Paul. “I already called him that.”
“What is his name?”
“Would you think less of me if I said I didn’t know?”
“Probably.”
“I have no idea.”
“Slut,” Nana coughed.
“What?” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“Nothing.” She smiled that sweet-old-lady smile that never failed to charm.
“You’re adorable,” I said.
“I know. Everyone says so.”
“Oh gross,” Paul said. “I just tried to touch his shoulder and it was sticky. Sandy, why the hell did you come on his shoulder?”
“I’m exuberant,” I said. “And also a shooter. It happens.”
“La la la, not listening,” Nana said. “You’re all virgins in my head and still have pillow fights and do each other’s makeup.”
“There was really no hope for us to be straight, was there?” Paul asked.
“None in the slightest,” Nana said. “Here, wear this. It’ll bring out your eyes. And your butt.” She handed me a soft, thin green sweater with a pair of tight black jeans. “Also, don’t wear underwear. Make your archnemesis want to sign for your package.”
“La la la, not listening,” I said. “You’re just an elderly lady who likes to knit and tell stories of her youth when dinosaurs roamed the earth.”
“Cheeky little minx.” She patted my cheek. “Also, you might want to use some cover-up under your eyes. You’re looking a little… well-worn, dear.”
“I’m hideous!” I wailed as she left the closet.
“He not waking up?” she asked Paul.
“I don’t want to touch him anymore,” Paul said. “He’s covered in Sandy.”
Nana slapped his bare ass. “Wow. Look at that thing bounce.”
“Sandy?”
“Yes, Paul.”
“My grandmother just got to second base with your trick.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m done with him.”