Bruce Pamplemousse Sneered
rampant adulterer- try to keep a straight face.
- sexy paparazzi death match
- be perfect, of course
- under her shoe
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Bruce Pamplemousse sneered away his confusion. “Sure,” he said to Jim. “You want me to share the stage with that rampant adulterer you call a brother, and you want me agree to it while I try to keep a straight face.” His face did look quite straight, despite the sarcasm overloading his voice. I had to assume that my carnal exploits were common knowledge among everybody on this airship, but moral censure from the likes of the Pamplemousse clan was a rather bitter pill to swallow. And he wasn’t done. “Give me time to alert the media,” he crowed, “so our pageant can feature a sexy paparazzi death match.”
It would be perfect, of course, if Bruce Pamplemousse simply stormed off. But he showed no intention of leaving.
Jim laughed off Bruce’s hissy-fit. “It’ll be great,” he said, already on his feet and tugging me by the hand. “We’ll make a kick line. We’ll spin plates. Just wait’ll you see what our other friend here has under her shoe.”
Tessa wore a tight grin. What had those two cooked up?
bonus points for using them in order