DAMIEN
Pulling over Lisa’s driveway, I got out of the car, strutted to her door, and rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door pulled open with Lisa in a bathrobe, her hair wet. She smiled widely at me. “Damien? I had no idea you were coming.” She opened the door wider, inviting me in.
Stepping into her living room, I stopped by the fancy shelf, picking up a framed picture of myself. “I remember telling you to discard this.”
She chuckled. “Don’t feel so important Damien,” she teased, “I had a framed picture of Dave beside yours too, but I broke it yesterday, so I’m having it remade.”
She always claims to have Dave's picture framed too, but I’ve never seen it the few times I’ve been here. “I don’t care if you have a picture of the Duchess of Sussex next to mine, when I say remov
