Late on Sunday afternoon, Amy finally drove back into camp. Molly and I were hanging out, sitting on a picnic table near the parking lot when Amy pulled up. As Amy pulled in, Molly said, “Well, you’re safe now Jack. You’ve got you’re gf to protect you now.”
“Look, Puddles, lose the attitude…” as I hopped off the table to greet Amy.
Molly ran after me, “Did you tell Amy about that? Oh my god Jack, I hate that nickname.”
Amy and I had a long hug and kiss, as she exited the car. Molly was waiting impatiently and finally cleared her throat. Amy stopped kissing me and said, “Hello, Molly, were you good while I was gone?”
Molly hesitated and looked at me, then looked at Amy somewhat defiantly, “I think I was…”
I interrupted her, “She was not. She was an insufferable brat.”
“Jack…shut up. Anyway, Jack was a pretty good boy.” She said that second sentence in her exaggerated, condescending baby voice.
Amy held up the black choker, “Molly, Jack told me all about the weekend. It sounds like you still have quite an attitude there…”