Page 22 of The Revenge Agenda

Dammit, we haven’t seen fine china in a while. “Who will it be?”

“Forty-year-old virgin.”

The guy’s nicknamed that not because he looks like a virgin but because he looks like Steve Carrell. “Nah, they’ll have Nana Bette or Miss Trunchbull on that.”

“We’ll see …”

Madden collapses onto his armchair, and I flop back onto the couch that’s been here for who knows how long. It’s mid-century, at a guess, and the owners left it behind with a bunch of other furniture for us. I’ll never be able to thank Rylan and Kai enough for renting us this place for as cheap as they do.

Not only that, but it brought us Bertha Boys together, and these guys are more of a family to me than my own blood. I don’t know where I’d be without them.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Shoot.”

Madden picks up the remote and clicks on the TV before flicking over to the infomercial channel. When it comes on screen, we both watch blankly for a moment.

“Well, that’s not fancy plates,” Madden says.

The man and woman on screen are modeling what looks like bright blue plastic flip-flops with bristles all over them.

“One size fits all,” the man says as the grinning woman slips her feet inside.

“Well, that’s a new one,” Madden says dumbly.

I’m with him though. Not only does the product look ridiculous, but the woman is rubbing her feet in and out like she’s doing feet porn.

“Two dollars on her next word being ‘wow.’”

“I’ll take that bet.”

We both wait, letting the man talk, until … “Wow, my feet feel so smooth.”

Madden cries out, and I high-five myself.

“Easy call.”

“Fine. Double or nothing, split screen of before and afters in three … two …”

He doesn’t continue. “I’m waiting.”

“One and a half … and … a quarter?”

“What exactly are we counting here because it’s not secon?—”

“Now!”

The split screen pops up, and he shouts the word a moment later. “You’re good at this,” I tease, handing the eight dollars over.

Madden cracks his knuckles, looking cocky. “It’s a skill.”

“Or cheating.”

“Definitely what I said.”

We’re up for the next half an hour heckling the hell out of the salespeople and the product and mocking the usual lines they use. Before Easy Feet, I was so insecure every time my friends and family commented on my feet …

“Oh no, poor little model has friends and family. How sad for her.”

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