How come all the harmless people were so lame? Maybe that was the definition of safe.

Escape plan number seventeen," I told her. "Run away and open a juice stand in Fresno." "Why Fresno?" "Sounds like the kind of place people drink a lot of juice.

You have the patience of a saint," I grumbled, slouching into a chair. "And besides, you don't hang out with him 24/7." "Neither will you. It's only 24/6." "Same difference. It might as well be 24/10." She frowned. "That doesn't make any sense.

Eugenie, my sweet, your outraged protests are adorable, but they only continue to slow us down. If you want me to help you, then let me. If you don't, then take me to one of those places where human women wear revealing clothing and quickly lose their virtue through alcohol.

Adrian, you're a genius.

How?" I demanded. "How could you have screwed this one up?" "When I got in, they said the manager was on the phone and would be a few minutes. So, I sat down and ordered a drink." This time, I did lean my forehead against the steering wheel. "What did you order?" "A martini." "A martini." I lifted my head. "You ordered a martini before a job interview." "It's a bar, Sage. I figured they'd be cool with it.

I find prostitutes vastly important.