“Come on!” Tyrone hollered from the GreatRoom. “Hurry your sweet asses up!”
In that outfit, Tyrone didn’t just look likeTina Turner, he sounded like Tina Turner, too! Ah, the powerof suggestion!
The other men were way up ahead, struttingtheir stuff while Marty hung back in the marble foyer with George.George’s illness was a happy excuse to delay entry into the GreatRoom, Marty had to admit. He hadn’t even stepped off the stairs yetand, in truth, he felt too nervous to let go of the stair rail. Thesecond he stepped onto that marble floor, he’d surely collapse.He’d put on the Spanx Tyrone had given him, but he felt bloatedwith bread and brie.
Why oh why had he eaten so much cheese?
He should have followed George’s example andstuck to grapes!
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mayfair Ladies!”
Oh no,
