"That was a misunderstanding involving a lost coupon!" Alan huffed.
"Great," Alan sighed, looking at his phone. "Now I just need to find someone who’s willing to be seen with me in public for forty-eight hours without a paper bag over their head."
Just then, Jenny—Charlie’s long-lost daughter—stumbled in, smelling faintly of cheap tequila and bad decisions. "Hey, roomies. Anyone seen my dignity? I think I left it at a dive bar called 'The Rusty Anchor' or in the back of a Prius. It’s a toss-up."
