“Not now Mendez!” I tried to deflect him, failing miserably, of course.

“Do you know what I do to take out aggression, nancy-boy? I wail on my abs and pecs.” Mendez flexed and did that odd thing that professional wrestlers do where they alternately raise their chest muscles in a bouncing motion.

“I’m not driving you to the gym, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why not? Might get your mind off of Jodi and that scamp she’s with.”

“He’s my friend,” I said, feeling the need to defend Tom, even if I was furious at him.

“Some kind of friend. Let me guess, they can’t take their hands off each other. She’s probably got him talking like a fairy too.”

“I feel violated every time she opens her mouth. And why does she have to smell so good.”

“Shooting range it is then,” he said.

Remembering what happened last time Mendez possessed a deadly weapon, I said, “The gym’s sounding better every second,” and jumped into my mini cooper.

“What are you doing?” Mendez scoffed. “Get out. I’m driving.”

“Here we go again.”