“Check it out.” Charlie lifts his shirt and treats me to a view of his jiggly white belly covered in a smattering of hair, and eight long red streaks cutting across the middle.

“Holy cow.”

He drops his shirt and lowers his voice. “She ATTACKED me like a wild animal.”

“Did you call pest control?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Charlie’s cheeks redden. “She had me in a…compromising position.”

Oh God. All my stress and anxiety disappear in a snort of laughter. My head bangs on the table, and the man in the brown jacket drops his donut in apparent alarm.

“It’s not funny,” Charlie says, miffed. “I was afraid. She was totally out of control. She isn’t sane.”

I lift my head to wipe away the tears. “If you really thought that, you wouldn’t have put yourself in a compromising position. I mean, who does that? Who puts their most precious and delicate…item in the jaws of a crazed wild animal?”

“A desperate man,” Charlie moans.

“So after you extricated yourself from the compromising position, why didn’t you throw her back into the wild?”

“She wanted to have sex.”

“Seriously?” I widen my eyes in mock horror. “She is crazy.”

Charlie frowns. “You don’t know what it’s like. I had a long dry spell. A parched man does not turn down a glass of water even if the glass is broken.”

“So how was it?” I shouldn’t, but I have to ask.

“Wild,” he rasps. “But afterward, I snuck out.”

“Smooth. Love ’em and leave ’em. You’ve become a real player.”

“It wasn’t like that.” He leans forward and lowers his voice. “In the heat of passion, she called me by the wrong name.”

“Oh. My. God. How crass. Whose name did she call?”

The door opens. Heads turn. Max appears in the doorway. He spots us and his eyes narrow. Charlie drops his donut. “Hot damn he looks so good in that suit.”

“Paws off, tiger. He’s mine. I can hardly wait to see him in his tux again.”

Charlie dabs at his cheek with a napkin. “He’s not looking too happy. Maybe he thinks I’m putting the moves on you, or maybe he doesn’t like his girlfriends eating carbs.”

My cell buzzes, but before I can check the message, a glowering Max is hovering over our table. The man in the brown coat looks up from his newspaper. His eyes widen when he catches sight of Max and he turns away.

“What the hell is this?” Max holds up his phone and I catch sight of a run of tweets.

“Hey!” I give him an encouraging smile. “You’re finally on Twitter. Good for you.”

“THIS.” He holds the phone closer to us and Charlie whistles.

“Hey, Makayla, that looks like your ass.”

Max shoots daggers at Charlie. “How would you know what her ass looks like?”

Charlie doesn’t miss a beat. “I see it every weekend when we play strip poker.”

Before Max can react, I snatch the phone and check out the picture. Yup. That’s my ass. The picture is titled “Makayla’s Ass” and is posted courtesy of @Toots69, who must have been at the Redemption party on the weekend when I flipped a cheek at Blade Saw.

“Looks like someone was drinking again.” Charlie pokes me in the shoulder. “And you told me you had matured.”

I pull out my own phone and check my messages. Oh God. So many. Everyone has seen my ass on Twitter—Amanda, Rob, all my housemates, work colleagues, friends, my fifth-grade pen pal from Norway, Susie in London, and my cousin in Nebraska. I hate social media.

“It’s trending,” Charlie shouts, holding up his cell phone.

The man in the brown coat has given up any pretense of pretending not to overhear. He stares at us, following our conversation with avid interest.

Max frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means Makayla’s ass is very popular and is going around the world at lightning speed.” Charlie grins.

Max’s jaw clenches so hard I fear he might break his teeth. “What the hell were you thinking? That’s my ass out there.”

Charlie chortles. “I like your purple panties, Huntington. They looked good with your green skirt.”

Max leans across the table and grabs Charlie’s collar. I jump up and push him away with two hands. “Max. Listen to me. I didn’t post that picture on Twitter, and if you even understood how it worked, you would know that.”

“Who posted it?”

“I don’t know. Someone with the handle @Toots69.”

“Aaaargh.” Max slams his fist on the table so hard our mugs fly off and crash to the ground. Charlie’s eyes widen and he squeezes my hand.

“I should have known she would do something like this,” Max bellows. “And calling herself @Toots69!”

@Toots69 is a she? There was only one other she at the Redemption party besides me.

Everyone in the donut store pulls out a phone. No doubt @Toots69 is suddenly going to get a lot of followers, and my ass is going to get some extra viewings.

Max pounds his finger on his phone. Seconds later he holds his cell to his ear and shouts loud enough for everyone to hear, “What the hell were you thinking? You take it down right now. I don’t care what you want. We’re finished. I made that clear. And if you ever do anything to hurt her again, I will never—” He storms out the door and we miss the rest of the conversation.