I choked. “His what?”
“His size.” He ticked off on his finger. “The size of his bank account, the size of his ego—nobody wants to date a guy who has too big of an ego. You’d be surprised how problematic that is—and, of course, the size of his D.”
I shook my head. “You’re impossible. I don’t know the last one, but I can call him now and find out.”
“Do it.”
I plucked my phone out of my purse as we stepped onto the escalator. I put the phone on speaker.
“Kit, this better not be about the damn cat again.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not always this surly,” I said to Tack. “Liam—”
“Who’re you talking to?”
“You’re on speaker. And my friend Tack is here. He wants to know the size of your dick.”
The woman before us jerked around so quickly she almost fell off. I flashed her a grin. “It’s for a charitable cause.”
“It’s me.” Tack beamed at her. “I’m the charitable cause.”
“What kind of name is Tack?” Liam asked. “And why are you talking about the size of my dick?”
“Because I’m trying to set you two up, but knowing your size is one of his requirements.” I stepped off the escalator and pointed Tack toward a costume store.
“If that’s what your friend is interested in, then I’ll take a hard pass. He sounds rather shallow.”
“And that sounds like the answer of a man with a tiny peen,” Tack said aloud, grabbing my hand to guide the speaker to his mouth.
“I don’t have a tiny peen,” Liam said. “This is ridiculous. I’m hanging up now, and please don’t set me up with your insufferable friend.”
Liam hung up, and I gave Tack a sheepish smile. “Sorry, that doesn’t seem like it’ll work out.”
“Too bad. He sounds fun to tease, but maybe it’s a good idea not to hook up with your friend. Guys get all squicked out the minute they learn I want to work with dead people.”
I grimaced. “Working with dead people sounds fun?”
Tack laughed.