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him.”
    She utters quietly, “I’m sorry.”
    I shake my head. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” I pause. “I did something. I screwed up. I really screwed up.”
    She remains silent, giving me time to get it out.
    “That night, Clark and I shared words. It was weird. I asked him to kiss me. He did. It was…okay.”
    Frankie groans. She gets it.
    “So I decide to clear my mind. I head over to Mirage, have some wine and listen to some music, when out of nowhere comes Marco.”
    Frankie’ s body goes rigid.
    She knows. She always knows.
    I clear my throat. “One thing led to another. A small kiss here, a grope there. Next thing I know, I’m in his bed.”
    She whispers, “Oh , my God.”
    I grumble in agreement. “Yeah, exactly. So if that’s not bad enough, Clark is in bed with Michelle. And he hears everything.”
    Frankie gasps and her hand darts out, slapping my arm, “Shut. Up !” She gasps again, slower this time. “That’s what the argument was about, wasn’t it? That’s why he lost it.”
    “Yep. That’s why he ripped up my garden.”
    Frankie bursts into laughter. I glare at her. “What the hell’s so funny?”
    She snorts. “Who knew a nun would lead such a soap opera life. And it’s not even a good soap opera. It’s a Z-grade soap opera.” She turns to me and chortles, “And you’re the star!”
    “It’s not funny, Frankie!”
    Her face turns serious as she answers quietly, “You’re right.” She nods. “You’re right, Cat.” Her booming laughter fills the car. “It’s fucking hilarious !”
    I sigh and turn away, looking out the window, listening to Frankie laugh softly.
    “I can’t even. Like, I just- I can’t even.” Her laughter gets louder. “I can’t even can right now. That’s how funny this is. I literally can’t even .”
    A smile twitches at my lips. I whisper, “You’re an asshole.”
    Her laughter is borderline hysterical as she yells, “And you’re a fucking whore!”
    A chuckle escapes me. “You’re a rug muncher. A big one. With gorilla nipples.”
    She wheezes, unable to breath from hilarity. “Oh, my God, stop. Your ability to spot the obvious is going to make me pee.”
    My shoulders shake with silent laughter.
    We both put in our earpieces and turn the radio devices on. Chuckling, I utter, “Night Fury and Moon Shadow are online.”
    The car slows and then comes to a stop. We park down the street, open the doors and exit. Clark stays in the car but Bob and Ari join us.
    I put on a black silk mask that covers the bottom half of my face. I watch Ari put on her Marilyn Monroe mask as Frankie slips on a ski mask that has a skull printed on the front. Bob ties a bandana just under his eyes.
    Unrecognizable, we remove our weapons.
    My katana, Koneko , goes with me on every job. Ari removes a ten-inch hunting knife. Frankie wraps a thick chain tightly around her hands. Bob pulls out his .357 magnum.
    Frankie approaches the door and whispers, “This is my last party for a while. Seems appropriate that I make an entrance, wouldn’t you say?”
    She steps back, ready to kick in the door. Just as she’s about to let it rip, Bob clears his throat. He steps forwards and turns the knob.
    The door opens and we laugh as Frankie sighs, “Stupid motherfuckers.”
    She opens the door and we all enter. Three men immediately scurry through the back exit of the house leaving one haggard looking woman in the main room of the makeshift brothel.
    I’m going to take a wild guess and say this is Margaret Pinot. The woman who is whoring out her thirteen and sixteen -year-old daughters.
    High as a kite, she finally turns and blinks up at us. She slurs, “Who are you? What do you want?”
    Frankie steps forward allowing the chain to drop by her side with a jingle. She greets our target perfectly.
    “Evenin’, Ms . Pinot.” She pauses to smirk viciously. “We’re the X-Men . And we’re here to fuck shit up.”
    With lightning fast reflexes, she swings the