“Watch out for Kevin. He’s a crotch sniffer and will get right up in your business, so keep your legs closed.”

“Uhm, excuse me . . . what?” I look around for one of Ace’s friends, ready to enact the concept of ‘touch me and die.’

“Him. Can you do something with that?” Her finger points toward Ace, and I cringe, knowing there’s not a whole lot anyone can do with that. But then I see what she’s actually pointing at when Ace leans forward.

“Is that . . .”

My question is cut off by a series of deep, mournful howls. “Is that . . . Kevin?”

Kevin is apparently Ace’s . . . basset hound? He’s simultaneously the cutest thing in existence and the ugliest dog ever. His mournful eyes droop nearly as low as his jowly cheeks, and his ears hang even lower than that, which makes it seem like he’s melting before your very eyes. Even from here, I can see that his belly is far too big and round for his short little legs. He’s like a goblin dog.

It’s a gift, I guess, making you want to snuggle him while feeling so bad for his sad appearance.

Any sweet sentiments disappear when he hops off the couch to glare at me from under those heavy lids and howls again. Loudly, like he just cornered a squirrel named Elle for dinner. And definitely loud enough to be heard over Ace’s video game.

“Kevin! No!” Tiffany snaps at the dog, “Hush before the neighbors call the landlord . . . again.” The last part seems to be directed at Ace more than the dog, but Ace barely looks up from mashing on the buttons. “Ace, make him be quiet and leave Elle alone!”

I smartly don’t point out that Tiffany is being louder than either the dog or the video game at this point. I might as well be whistling Dixie over here like Billy does, trying to stay out of the line of Tiffany’s fire and Kevin’s teeth.

“Can’t you get him? I’m trying to get the insurgents!”

“Insurgents . . . I’ll give you some damn insurgents,” Tiffany growls. “If your sorry ass doesn’t get up . . .”

“Get over here, Kev!” Ace growls in frustration before whistling. Kevin turns and bounds over to the couch, surprisingly nimble in jumping up onto the cushion. He gives me one last huff of annoyance before flopping over on his back, his head hanging off the side and his ears and jowls flapping upside down. He whines softly, demanding a scratch to his exposed belly, and Ace reaches over and pats him. “Good boy.”

I think Tiffany’s head is going to explode when Ace praises the dog, and I can’t help but giggle. Which is a grave mistake because Tiffany whirls, glaring at me now. I was so close to not being hit with any of the flinging anger or glops of avocado, and I had to go and ruin it because a boy and his dog were being cute for a second.

“Oh, come on,” I try to reassure her. “I’m fine. Kevin’s fine. Let’s just get ready. Clock’s ticking.”

The reminder is just what she needs to light a fire under her ass. She huffs but hustles down the hall, green goo and all.

Tiffany’s bedroom is all organization. We just went shopping, but I would bet that those clothes have already been washed, dried, folded, and hung up. Every stitch of her new capsule wardrobe is probably ready to roll when needed. Without opening a drawer, I know that the right-hand ones contain bras, undies, and socks—in that order so that she can go drawer to drawer, tits to toes, to get dressed. Her closet is small but sorted by article of clothing and then by color, so if you need a white button-up, you can go to the long-sleeve area and then the white section, and poof . . . there you go.

It drives me nuts. There’s no spontaneity, no craziness, no chaos. Blah, blah, and blah. But it’s probably what makes us such good friends. She’s the Yin to my Yang.

I flop on her bed, knowing she’ll fix any wrinkles I leave before we go. “Ace is a pain in the ass, but Kevin’s kinda cute. When did Ace get him?”

“He got him back a few days ago. Our cousin Shana took him before Ace left, but Ace felt like he needed his buddy again. Went and got him without even asking me.” She’s ramping up, so I settle in for the long haul and give up on being on time for our appointment.

“Then when I came home last night, Ace had invited his friends over to have a LAN party in my living room! Again, without even asking me! I left for a bit to grab dinner, and when I got back, they were all drunk and being so loud I could hear them in the hallway. I thought someone had actually broken in because they were yelling ‘get him, take him down!’ They were being so rowdy, I had to threaten to call the cops before my neighbors did. They hauled ass, leaving that mess you see in there behind. Ace hasn’t apologized and damn sure hasn’t cleaned up after his frat-boy bro-out.”

Her voice has lost the angry edge, and instead, she sounds sad and scared. “He’s still playing, barely stopped to wave bye to his friends. I’m not even sure if he’s even gone to sleep since yesterday. I really want to help Ace get out of this rut he’s in, but he’s testing me, Elle. This isn’t healthy, for either of us.”

She flops down next to me, burying her face in her hands and then flinching back when she remembers that her face is covered in now-semi-dry glop. “Come on, go get that washed off and we’ll get you some pampering so you feel better,” I promise her. “And some food. Tacos? Sushi? Anything you want.”

Tiffany heads to her attached bath, and a moment later, the water turns on. I always tease her that she needs a little crazy in her life, and that’s where I come in, but the amount of crazy Ace is bringing to the table is just too much. Even for a wild child like me, and definitely for a controlled non-chaos girl like Tiffany.

“Hey, why’d Ace name his dog Kevin, anyway? It seems weird. Like a people name, not a dog one.” From the living room, I hear Kevin bay again when I say his name.

Tiffany laughs just a little, and though I’m not sure why, I take the win. “His name wasn’t always Kevin. I think he got that from Home Alone, but Ace would never admit that. Kevin’s name was Rick when he first got him. Right up until Rick got out one day, and Ace had to walk up and down the street, calling out, ‘Rick, Rick, Rick!’ and some neighborhood kids heard him and started teasing him about calling out for dick. Told him if he was that hard up, he should fist his own dick.”

She laughs and then choking sounds come from the bathroom.

“You okay, girl?”

A loud snort and then giggles. “Yeah, just waterboarded myself a little bit when I laughed.” It’s quiet for a second, and though I can’t see her, it seems like she’s lost a bit to the past, maybe to a time when she wasn’t on the verge of killing Ace.

“So Ace changed Rick’s name to Kevin. Why he didn’t go with Rover or Buster, I don’t know. A dog needs a dog name.”

I flop back on the bed again. “Nah, that’s a Kevin if ever I saw one. He’s too pitiful looking to be a Buster. But now that you mention it, I’m gonna save the Rick-Dick thing for Ricky. It’ll be a good one to put him in his place at just the right time.”

Tiffany reappears, looking better without the green goop and a bit of pink to her cheeks. She heads to her dresser, and yep, bras in the top drawer. “Red or pink?” She doesn’t wait for me to decide, dropping her robe and slipping the pink one on. She pulls her boobs into the cups so she looks even perkier than usual. “Okay. Let’s change the subject. So . . . you talk with Daddy?”