Page 32 of Bobby Green

He had to laugh. “So few places are.” He sobered. “How’s Reg?”

“He needs another two days of antibiotics and sleep. Lance wanted to know if you wanted a break. You could drive Reg’s Camaro to the apartment—we left a space for it—and stay with Reg.”

Bobby nodded in relief. “And next time I come here, I’ll have some supplies,” he said, feeling enthusiasm in his stomach. Then he frowned. “I can’t decide which one I should start with—”

“The bathroom!” the guys said in tandem.

“It’s not even a question,” Rick said, nodding. “I actually took my morning dump at the apartment on purpose so I didn’t have to take it here.”

Bobby and Skylar stared at him, but Rick didn’t seem to think this was too much information.

“I’m saying—if I was Reg, I’d shoot a hundred and fifty scenes a year, just so I could use the bathroom in the offices all the time.”

Bobby’s eyeballs were drying out, and he blinked a couple of times to see if he was actually hearing this.

“He’d die,” Skylar said seriously. “Think about it—you fast for two days before the scene, you get all fucked out during the scene, and then you eat and bulk up for at least a week, maybe a month, before the next scene. He’d die of dehydration if he shot a hundred and fifty scenes a year. Like, no question. It would kill him.”

Oh God. AndRegwas worried about being stupid.

“Not to mention chafing,” Skylar continued. “I mean, remember Kane? He did a scene a week for a couple of months. Dex had to rub diaper ointment on his ass. No way it could happen. The most you could shoot would be, maybe, fifty. But that’s pushing it. You’d lose muscle mass.”

Rick nodded, conceding the point. “And afterward you’d never want to fuck again. Especially if you’re more into girls than boys.”

“Yeah.” Skylar was looking at Bobby now for confirmation. “Right, Bobby?”

“Oh dear God,” Bobby mumbled. “You guys, I’m going to go give Reg’s sister her meds, okay? I know it’s a little early, but—”

They both grinned at him, straight white teeth practically blinding him. “He’s got that look,” Rick said.

“The one that says he wouldn’t trust us to wipe our own asses—or each other’s,” Skylar agreed. “Dude, we scared him off, and it hasn’t been two weeks.”

Bobby shook his head and realized they were yanking his chain. “You both suck—”

“And swallow,” they said in tandem. “I mean,” Skylar clarified, “it’s part of our job.”

Oh Jesus. “Yeah, well, you go swallow each other all you want, but stop tugging on my balls,” he said, laughing. “And seriously—she needs her meds in an hour. Anywhere I gotta be tonight?”

Skylar shook his head. “We’re on for tonight—text us and let us know how Reg is doing tomorrow.” He grinned. “I brought groceries! We can feed Veronica health food—she’ll love it!”

Bobby nodded, biting his lip.

Sure she would.

“Oh come on,” Skylar urged. “Go home and nurse Reg.” He looked sideways at Rick and then back at Bobby. “He’s been asking for you.”

“Really? Why?”

Skylar shrugged. “I think he remembers you being kind yesterday. But he’s worried about you watching V—thinks she’s going to hurt you, so go back and reassure him.”

Bobby smiled, thinking that Reg would be good company. “Do you guys have a deck of cards or anything? Poor guy’s gonna be bored shitless.”

Rick wrinkled his nose like Bobby had suggested using a Sears catalog for toilet paper. “Seriously? Cards? Our apartment has ultra-cable, remember? And apparently V watches nothing butFox News—he’s in heaven!”

Oh. “I’ll pick some up anyway.” Bobby finished his last notation and tucked the paper in his jeans. “I can ask him how he wants his house fixed too.”

“Dude.” Skylar shook his head.

“You gotta learn how to slack.” Rick nodded in total agreement.