Page 66 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“Strange. You heard me perfectly fine when I said you needed a firm hand.”
“I have selective hearing. It filters out boring stuff and only tunes in when the conversation gets… stimulating.”
His smile is slow and dangerous. “Then I’ll be sure to keep you… stimulated.”
Body, we need to have a chat. No, not you, lungs—you’re trying.
You, vagina.
Me:We had an agreement. You were supposed to be on team self-respect, remember?
Vagina:But he said “swallow,” Petra. With that voice.
Me:No.
Vagina:But—
Me:Shut it. We’re in public. There’s a tiara-wearing dog five feet away.
I discreetly pinch my own thigh under the table, and ouch!
Nope. Not dreaming.
This is real. Bryce Sterling—my brother’s best friend, my teenage crush—is saying every filthy thing I’ve ever fantasized about… and somehow he knowsexactlywhat buttons to press.
Which isunacceptable, because there are only two people aware of the full extent of my unholy Bryce Sterling fantasies: Me. And my vibrator.
He’s playing a game. That’s what this is. A twisted high-society chess match where seducing the chaos gremlin earns him good boy points with the well-mannered butler.
He’s distracting me. Manipulating me.
Well, not today, billionaire.But you can bet mylittle lady and I will be discussing your tactics later.
“Excuse me. Hana and I are having a veryimportantgirl talk. We’re analyzing the serious epidemic of billionaires with super teeny tiny… tax write-offs.”
I shoot him a sweet, innocent smile. “Whatdid you think I was gonna say?”
His nostrils flare. That’s right, Moneybags. Choke on it.
The servers swoop in with the next round of edible punishment. In one overly theatrical move, they lift the domes to reveal tiny bowls of lumpy beige sludge.This is what cottage cheese might look like if it spent six hours rotting on hot concrete.
“Ooooh!” Hana claps her hands together like an excited toddler. “Escamole! I heard Miss Muffy serves the most spectacular authentic Mexican delicacies.”
“Esca-what-the-hell?”
“Escamole! It’s the caviar of Mexico. This delicacy is the larvae and pupae of large black ants! Isn’t that theneatestthing?”
My stomach answers the question for me, and my esophagus tightens in self-defense.
“Too bad I’m full from the last course to dig into this bug buffet.”
“Stop!” Hana slaps my arm playfully. “You are cracking me up!”
Once again, Nigel approaches Miss Muffy’s dish like it’s baby Jesus… and he’s trying to get an invite to the Last Supper. He takes a modest spoonful of the insect nursery, tastes it, then nods his approval. “Exquisite texture and seasoned as you like it, Miss Muffy.”
Only after the Maltese takes her first dainty lick does the room lift their spoons. I watch in horror as thirty absurdly rich humans cheerfully shovel insect offspring into their mouths like it’s Cocoa Puffs.
I put a small amount onto my spoon, examining…itty-bittyalien eggs?Rice that’s gone horribly wrong?The individual grains have a slightly translucent quality that reminds me of maggots. I see tiny black specks inside that I’m pretty sure are innocent little baby ant eyes staring back.
