Fallout (Crank 3)

bras and panties is all new.

And radical. There are even

salesladies who are trained to

fit you right, and tell you what kind

of bra will flatter you best. It’s kind

of embarrassing. If it wasn’t for

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the whiskey, I’d be freaking out.

Only problem is, now that it’s

wearing off some, I’m getting

a headache. Hope it doesn’t

get worse. Anyway, Aunt Cora

and I take our fancy understuff

up to the counter. In her pile:

three stretch lace thongs, two gel

underwires, and a teeny purple teddy,

for the honeymoon. In my pile: red

velvet panties, matching push-up bra.

BOY, DOES THAT ADD UP

Almost one hundred fifty big

ones! “Uh, are you sure you can

afford that? I can wear my old—”

Aunt Cora stops me. This day

is only going to happen once.

Besides … She reaches into

her wallet, fishes out a shiny new

credit card. Liam’s mom gave me

this. Said to get anything my little

heart desired. She knows Daddy

doesn’t have a bottomless bank