"I'm telling you, it was this big." Kicked back in the battered recliner, Tick holds his hands about a foot apart.
Jason laughs and pops the top off his beer. "To hear you, all the ones that get away are that big."
The Muse walks by, ethereal robes fluttering in her wake. Jason's eyes widen. "Was that . . ."
Tick nods, brows lifted in surprise. "Yeah. Been awhile since we've seen her out of sweats."
"Amazing she can eat that many Cheetos and still look that-"
"Man, I'm telling you it's my damn turn!" The basement door, flung open with irritated force, slams against the wall. Troy Lee bursts into the room and flounces onto the couch.
Tick rolls his eyes. "Didn't you read the handbook? Heroes don't flounce. Or pout."
Troy Lee glares at him, blue eyes narrowed to slits. "Shut up."
Jason smothers a laugh. "What's your problem?"
"Him." Troy Lee jerks a thumb toward the open door and the blond, blue-eyed man leaning negligently against the jamb. "She's supposed to be writing my book, and he won't go away and leave her alone."
"Kid, I've seen part of what she has in store for you. It ain't pretty." Tick shakes his head. "You might want to-"
"Fish?!" Jason laughs. "Buddy, what are you doing here?"
The two men meet in one of those weird half-handshake, half-hugs women don't understand. The Muse, primping before a dusty mirror, gives them a glance, shakes her head, and returns to her makeup.
Fish chuckles. "I don't know. One minute She's working on edits on your book, the next Angie and I are, well, you know."
"You and Angie?"
"Yeah, man, surprised the hell out of me, too." Fish rubs a hand over his jaw. "She's hot, though. Angie, that is."
A wide grin creases Jason's face. "Oh, man, this is too cool. Your own book."
"Yeah." Troy Lee drops his head against the back of the ragged sofa. "Imagine that."