“Good job, son. I’ll be sure to tell Miss Parton you did everything you could to protect her privacy.” He grinned a greasy little smile and waved as I walked out the front door.
Skeeter clicked on in my ear as I walked briskly down the row of doors. “And now what, you kick in every door until you find this girl?”
“Nah, she’s in 109.”
“How do you know that, Bubba?”
“Sometimes you forget that I’m not just a pretty face, Skeeter. There’s a brain hidden inside all this beauty, too. And I’ll tell you what, mister, it hurts to only be seen for my good looks and never be respected for my intellect!” I was laying it on thicker than Tammy Faye’s eyeliner in 1987, but Skeeter wasn’t buying.
“I don’t see you for your good looks, jackass. I see you for your firepower and sheer bulk.”
“Oh. Well,
