: Chapter 8

Arora626: Why does this video make me want a Costco hotdog?

MirrorMirror: Can I pleaseee be your Fluffer? *Bats lashes*

I might have lost my mind.

No, seriously… I think I’ve gone completely loco.

Let me tell you how the last two weeks of my life have been going, and then you can corroborate my claims.

Approximately fifteen days ago, I found out that my mother’s husband, my stepfather, Thomas Harbor, is broke. Like, broke as a joke. Meaning no extra funds for anything, especially his stepchild.

The credit card that I had for emergency purposes—which was conveniently how I paid for all my food, clothing, transportation… literally everything—stopped working two days later. It was pretty humiliating being an almost twenty-year-old calling Mommy and begging for a few bucks to feed myself until I can find a job on campus. But I had no other option. All the accounts dried up almost immediately, including my own, which, let’s face it, only had money in it because my mother would deposit some every week.

I haven’t had a job since we lived in Brooklyn and I worked a few hours here and there at the Starbucks down the block after school. When we moved, I’d planned on finding something, but then Mom married Tom and it didn’t really seem necessary. He paid for everything. She’d even scaled back to part-time work at the Mercedes dealership…

But now she’s back to working sixty hours a week, and supporting our entire family, which has increased by two mouths, until Tom finds something new.

It’s a big fucking mess. Boston is almost as expensive as New York, which is ridiculous because it’s like a million times smaller. Things on the BC campus are discounted for students, but not by much. So now, it’s goodbye morning lattes and the constant DoorDashing to feed my endless munchies… and hello Maruchan ramen noodles in a stupid fucking Styrofoam cup.

What a cliché… a college student surviving on Cup of Noodles. God, this blows.

And the craziest part of it all is that I should be living in the lap of luxury!

A week before the start of this semester, I was informed that because of a lack of available space last minute and some miracle of divine intervention, I was being switched from the Walsh Residence Hall to the Thomas More Apartments; the fanciest, most sought-after part of BC housing. Usually, you have to be rich as fuck, or a Senator’s kid or something to get in there. And now I, little Avi Vega from Brooklyn, am living here out of sheer dumb luck.

And to top it all off, my newly assigned roommate, Ash Holloway, never showed up. No one’s told me what happened to him, or why he’s suddenly absent from school, but I can’t say I’m mad about it.

I sort of know Ash Holloway… He went to Somerville High. But that doesn’t make us friends, or mean that I’m bummed he isn’t here. Because I now have a suite-sized double-dorm to myself. It’s been two months, and I haven’t heard shit about where my Aussie musician roommate is, or if he’ll ever be gracing me with his presence.

Basically, I’m living the dream. Except that I’m not, because all the fantastic plans I’d made, to furnish my new penthouse and throw extravagant Playboy-style parties, have been stubbed out by the lack of funds. Luckily, I was able to buy some nice bedding and kitchen stuff on Tom’s credit card before I found out about his company going under. Other than that, the place is sort of sparse.

But still… it is really nice to have privacy and my own space.

Which brings me, finally, to the anecdote that proves I’ve gone off my rocker.

Frankie came over last week while I was in a downward spiral.

“What am I gonna do??” I’d asked her, pacing around the room. “I’m completely fucked… The financial aid I applied for doesn’t even cover all of my tuition for next semester, let alone housing.”

“How much do you need?” She gazed up at me from the couch in my dorm living room, her fingers steepled in front of her lips.

“Thirty-five hundred to finish sophomore year,” I sighed, then finally stopped pacing to fall dramatically onto my knees on the floor. “And another nine grand to keep this place.” I whimpered, petting the hardwood floors with my fingers. “I knew it was too good to be true…”

“That’s it??” Frankie gasped. “Only nine grand a semester for this place?? That’s actually really low…”

“They took pity on me and gave me the regular dorm rate,” I mumbled. “But still, it doesn’t matter. How on fucking earth would I ever come up with thirteen grand in two months?? Even with the payment plan, I won’t be able to find that kind of cash fast. There isn’t a part-time job in the world where I could work enough hours while also balancing school…” Pressing my forehead to the floor, I whined out of hopelessness. “Goodbye, beautiful, spacious luxury dorm room. We could have had something so special…”

Feeling a nudge on my side, I peeked at Frankie to find her poking me with her toes. “I might know of a way you can get some quick money…”

I blinked at her. “I don’t like the way your eyes are sparkling…” Her tiny smirk widened into a fully wicked grin, and I straightened. “Frankie… I will not rob a bank with you. I don’t think I have the stomach for it. Plus, what kind of mask would I wear?? There are just too many options…”

“Idiot,” she chuckled. “No one’s robbing anyone. Well… not exactly.” I simply stared at her as she leaned forward. “I have two words for you… I mean, two words smashed together for some reason.”

My brows knitted.

“OnlyFans.”

I continued to gawk at her for five full seconds before bursting into a boom of haughty laughter. “Yea… right. That’s good. Thanks, Franks, I needed the laugh.” I wiped my eyes while she narrowed hers.

“I’m being serious.”

Amusement fading, I scoffed and tossed her a look like she was nuts. “Dude, I can’t do OnlyFans…”

“Why not?” She sat back and folded her arms over her chest.

“Because…” I muttered, shaking my head at the tomfoolery of this conversation’s trajectory. “What would I even do? How would it even work?? I can’t do… porn.”

Frankie threw her head back in a cackle. “It’s not really porn.” I cocked my head at her. “Okay, well, in a way, I guess it is.” She scooted down onto the floor in front of me. “But, Avi, listen to me. You’re fucking hot. You have a sick body, which I still don’t even really understand because you stuff your face with junk constantly and are like the least physically active person I know.”

I frowned. “I work out ironically…”

“The point is, people on the internet would pay good money to look at you.” She smirked. “Throw in some naughty lil videos, and you’re golden, pony boy. Problem solved.”

I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about it… But I was. The attraction to fast money wasn’t something I could overlook at that point in time.

Because the more I stressed about it, the more I knew with absolute certainty there was no way to make the money I needed by working a regular job. It was too late. Even forfeiting the sick-ass dorm and moving home wouldn’t solve my problem.

I needed to do something drastic if I wanted to stay at BC. Especially if I wanted to keep living on campus, in this amazing apartment that had somehow just fallen into my lap. I couldn’t possibly squander this opportunity.

And my conversation with Kyran from the week earlier popped into my head…

Somehow, I’d found myself in a place I didn’t belong, surrounded by thousands of people who thought they were better than me. If I just gave up, moved home, and switched to a less expensive school, I’d be proving them all right. I couldn’t let that happen just because my rich stepdad’s company went under.

I didn’t need him. I could fight for this myself, and prove, definitively, that I deserved this just as much as they did.

Swallowing down my reservations, I blinked at Frankie. “And you really make that much money? Just from recording yourself naked…?”

“Let’s just put it this way… I saved up enough for first, last, and security on an apartment in Brookline,” she told me with a sympathetic smile. My forehead lined. “I was going to wait to tell you… since you know, I didn’t want to kick you while you were down. But I’m moving in next week.”

“You’re leaving campus?” I pouted, bummed by this information. I needed Frankie around, especially now.

She’s my best friend…

“I’ll be ten minutes away. Don’t be a baby.” She chuckled, which brought a curve to my lips. “Plus, I’m throwing an epic Halloween housewarming party to celebrate, and I expect your ass to be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I grinned.

“Good.” She poked her finger into my right dimple. “Now, where are we on the OF? ’Cause if you’re gonna do it, you’re gonna need help getting it set up and promoting yourself.”

My face lit up and I gasped, “Will you be my OnlyFans Yoda?!”

“Show your dick on camera you will, young Nerdwalker,” she teased, and I cackled. “No, but seriously. Strokin’ it for perverts on the internet is all well and good, but for the kind of money you need to make, and as fast, we’ll have to do some serious selling.”

“Oh God…” I rubbed my face. “I haven’t even started it yet, and already you sound like a pimp.”

“Get that ass in gear, baby girl.” She stood up fast and started snapping her fingers at me. “Time is money.”

And just like that, I was going to start stripping for strangers on the internet. It really happens that fast.

From that conversation, I kicked my ass into immediate gear. Frankie brought over her old tripod stand, which, according to her, is a must.

“POV shots are a hit, but you can’t do it the whole time,” she told me while helping me set up my creator account.

“Can’t I just lean my phone against some books?” I’d murmured, and she gaped at me like I was personally offending her.

“You need to be a professional, Avi,” she’d scolded. “The only way you’ll make real money doing this is if you look at it like a job.”

Once again stuffing down my hesitations about the whole thing, I’d nodded in agreement. After all, I had already boarded the crazy train… there was no getting off now.

Actually, there would be plenty of getting off.

No shortage of puns available in this situation.

In my first week as an OnlyFans creator, I’ve managed to wrangle up fifty subscribers, and made a few hundred bucks on subscriptions. As a total newb, I’d consider that a pretty good start. I also created a Twitter account specifically for the purposes of selling myself, and with Frankie retweeting and mentioning me constantly to her fifty-thousand-plus followers, I’m seeing new fans popping up every day.

However, as far as content goes, I’m still dipping my toe in the shallow end. I won’t lie… it’s a strange thing to warm up to.

I’m not the guy who sends dick pics around or records jerk-off videos of myself, so this is all very new for me. At the same time, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the attention when the comments start rolling in…

You’re so beautiful…

Look at that body…

Endless heart-eyes and fire emojis… I’ll admit, it went to my head pretty quick.

Which is why I’m now fully certain that I’ve gone mad… Because I’m currently lying in my bed with my dick out, recording myself jerking off for the complete strangers who are paying me to do so.

With my hand wrapped around my shaft, I struggle to ignore my phone’s camera aimed right at me from where it’s locked into the tripod at the edge of the bed. I’m not an actor, in any way shape or form, but I’ve been working on learning to control my body’s movements, practicing the faces I make and the little sounds… Really trying to sell it, while also coming across as natural.

It’s weird at first, but if this is my only shot at making the money I need to stay here, then I’ll try my very hardest to Spielberg this production into something that will have the benjis rolling in at a steady pace.

Grazing my fingers over my nuts, I squeeze them a bit before my hand slides back up, slowly stroking my cock as it fills rapidly. It’s a little cold in here, so my nipples are pebbled… Not to mention that the thrill of even doing this is giving me goosebumps.

It’s the ultimate naughty act of exhibitionism in the twenty-first century. Filming yourself doing things you should theoretically only be doing in private. And I suppose it’s still private, in a sense.

This is just for the fans… the people who have paid money for me do it. And surprisingly, that notion seems to turn me on even more.

Hence why my dick is thick and solid in my hand, my heart thumping wildly within my chest from the nerves, adrenaline, and the thrill of it. I continue to gradually palm my cock, a teasing dance that’s born out of mild trepidation. Honestly, it’s kind of my brand so far. The college student, hesitantly and wantonly exploring himself in his dorm room all alone…

My left hand pushes my sweatpants down a little more, while the right works up a rhythm. Eyes closed, head tipped back, I writhe into the sensation of giving myself pleasure, while my mind flips through various musings…

I wonder what my fans would like to see…

Do they like when I tease myself, slowly, like this? Do they touch themselves, watching me touch myself?

I wonder if it makes them as hot as it makes me, and even thinking about it has my hips chasing the friction of my hand pulling on my cock, more and more.

This is my first full-length video. Up until this point, I’ve only been sharing pictures and a few video clips. And the thing that’s sort of surprised me more than the fact that people are even paying for this in the first place, is how many of my subscribers are guys.

Call it my own naivety, I guess, but for some reason, I stupidly assumed that because I’m straight and have only ever hooked up with girls, girls would be the ones watching me. On the contrary. About ninety percent of my subscribers are men, and they all seem to be the most generous with the tips and the comments.

Truthfully, I’m just grateful for all of it, regardless of who it’s coming from.

I’ve never been a macho-hetero dude. It’s just not me. I’ve always seen sexuality as fluid for other people, and I suppose it is for me too, even though I’ve never been attracted to another man before.

Well, maybe not in a way that’s felt obvious… I’ve noticed guys before, but it was always an abstract thought. I figured if I was bisexual, then my desire to hook up with a guy would take over and it would just happen. But it hasn’t, so in that sense, I just call myself straight and that’s that.

But now that I have a bunch of men watching me touch myself, telling me how gorgeous I am and about all the things they’d like to do to me… I don’t know. It sparks this tiny little buzz of excitement in the pit of my stomach that I can’t explain.

I’m not repulsed by it, not even close. In fact, I think it might be what’s turning me on the most.

My eyes creep open and I peek at the camera, only to remind myself not to and flutter them shut once more, biting my lip and fucking my fist harder as a soft groan escapes me. I can’t even tell if it was for the benefit of the video or if it just happened, but I’m definitely burning up inside my skin right now. The confusion of jumbled thoughts about my sexuality is heavy, weighing on my chest like someone’s sitting on top of me. But instead of ignoring it or pushing it away, I lean into it.

I let it fuel things… The lust, the untapped desire… The curiosity of what it would be like if someone else was in the room with me right now, watching.

Just watching… at first. But then maybe they would come over. Slowly step up to the bed, then drop their knees onto the mattress by my side.

No… Over my hips.

Maybe they would straddle me and push my hand away so they could take my cock in theirs and stroke it for me. Leaning over my mouth and brushing my lips with theirs…

“Ffuck…” The word just gusts from my mouth while my dick leaks in my hand.

Squeezing it harder, I stroke faster, the fire inside me building to a roaring blaze. My left hand slinks up my chest and I brush my nipple, whimpering at the sensation that seems to be winding through every nerve in my body.

God, I want to come. I just need to come so bad right now, it’s all I can think about. I’m chasing my orgasm, fucking up into my hand with twisted and warped images in my brain of someone else getting me there.

I don’t know who it is, but it’s a person, and I think they’re not like anyone I’ve ever done this with before. I think they’re bigger… Like my size. Warm and hard everywhere.

I imagine them kissing down my chest, sucking my nipple as hard as I’m pinching it. Gliding lower, biting me and tonguing their way through the lines of my abs. Then taking my cock into their wet mouth and sucking on it the way I might…

Timid… But hungry. Nervously ravenous.

“God, fuck… yes…” I whisper, keeping my eyes shut tight, because if I open them, I might lose this… whatever it is.

This fantasy. This dirty, delicious, puzzling reverie.

In my imagination, I reach down for their head and feel a backwards cap, like the one I’m wearing now. I push it off and thread my fingers through soft hair, gripping it in my fist while I ride their mouth and my toes curl.

I’m so fucking close… I’m so, so close, and all I want in the world is to blow every thick pulse of cum I can down their throat and watch them swallow for me.

My hand is working on its own, dragging myself to the edge harder and harder, legs spreading, muscles constricting. It feels so fucking good, I just…

“Fuck, I’m coming,” I rush out the words, to no one, because my imaginary friend isn’t here.

It’s just me, stroking out my orgasm onto my abs.

But damn, it still feels fucking great.

My dick shoots while I whine and rasp out hushed sounds, soaking myself in streams of slick cum. Chest pumping up and down, I release every drop and then sort of melt into the mattress, ragged breaths flying out of me as I try to catch them.

I lie basking in it for minutes, until my eyes snap open, landing on my phone, the camera lens aimed at me.

Sheesh… I totally forgot I was recording for a second there.

Sitting up, I glance down at my orgasm all over my chest and abs, swiping my fingers through the mess. Then I peek back at the camera, locking my eyes on it as I gingerly slip them into my mouth.

Mmm… salty.

I wonder if they’ll like that…

Because I think I definitely do.

I’m walking on freaking sunshine.

Twenty-four hours after posting that video on my OF, I officially have over a hundred new fans, more than half of whom paid for the six-month subscription.

I can’t believe I’m raking in dough like this already. I thought it would take me at least a month to get this thing off the ground, but I guess I’ve tapped into something because I just hit five thousand followers on Twitter. In less than ten days!

Boo-yah! Backwardz_Cap comin in hot!

That’s my username. Backwardz_Cap. I thought it was pretty clever, considering that I’ve made rocking a backwards Yankees cap my signature in my content. I don’t care about baseball, but I figured wearing a BC cap, or even a Red Sox one, might be too close to home. So I dug out my dad’s old Yankees cap I used to wear before we moved here. Not that it’s a disguise at all. And if someone I know from school were to happen upon my account, and subscribed, they would definitely know that it’s me.

Still, I don’t show my face on Twitter, or in my profile pic on OnlyFans. And Frankie’s been doing OnlyFans for a year with nothing more than a little veil covering her face and no one here has found her… Or if they have, they haven’t confronted her about it. I guess it’s like she says… People prefer to stay discreet when it comes to porn. No one needs to know what’s happening on someone else’s phone screen.

Except Big Brother… Because let’s face it, he’s always watching.

At this point, I almost have enough money to pay my first tuition installment, and that won’t be due for another few weeks. I’m in a great position so far, but I can’t get cocky. Running this thing is definitely a full-time job. As it stands, I’m on my phone constantly, sharing little clips on Twitter, constantly pimping my OF, responding to DMs from my fans and teasing upcoming videos. I also spend way too much time trying to think of original content.

People loved the jerk-off video, but I don’t think doing just that will be able to hold their attention for long. They always end up wanting more…

For example, I’ve already gotten several DMs from guys requesting that I collaborate, i.e. bringing someone else on camera with me. And judging by the people suggesting it, I’m not sure they would want that person to be female…

That’s a whole other thing I’m not sure I can wrap my head around just yet. I mean, if it meant raking in thousands of dollars, I’m sure I could get on board… But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be nervous. After all, it’d be a bit of a change-up from my normal sexual repertoire.

I’m on my way to meet the crew at Frankie’s new apartment in Brookline to help her unpack. She’s officially relocated from the BC dorms into her new place. I’ve seen pictures, but I can’t wait to see it in person… It looks insane.

Hopping off the train, I walk the couple of blocks to Frankie’s street, counting the numbers on the large houses until I reach hers. And I have to stop and stare at it, because it’s really just stunning.

Boston is such a beautiful city. Everything has this colonial feel to it, even the modern stuff. And with the trees all decorated in orange, red, and yellow leaves, the brisk air brushing across my face… I have to say, I like it here. I wasn’t sure I would when I left New York, but now that I’m in the heart of the city, I can admit it’s a pretty special place.

Jogging up the stoop of the multi-family home, I press the button for Frankie’s apartment, and within seconds, the door is buzzing me in. I’m barely finished knocking on the door before it’s flinging open, and I’m being greeted by all sorts of excited squeals and cheek kisses.

Micah, Zeb, and Bea are already here, drinks in hand. And of course, with my arrival, it’s time to spark it up. Working my magic, I roll a fat joint for us to share in a matter of seconds, which we smoke while Frankie gives me the tour.

“Are you excited for my Halloween party?” she asks me as I help her unpack things I feel like we were just packing the last time I helped her move, a few months back.

“Oh, yes.” I grin, handing her items as she scampers around the room, putting them away in various spots. “Nothing like a party full of people dressed like slutty versions of their favorite characters.”

She chuckles. “Have you decided on a costume?”

“Well, in case you forgot, I dress up like an eagle on the regs. So if all else fails, I’ll just show up as Baldwin and pray no one spills their vodka on me.”

“Avi!” she gasps admonishingly. “You can’t wear your mascot costume for Halloween. That’s cheating.”

“I know, I know.” I laugh. “I’ll figure something out. How about you?”

She grins wickedly. “I’ve already picked mine. And it’s gonna blow your sweaty eagle out of the water.”

I aim a disturbed look her way. “That’s a really strange thing to say to me, Miss.”

She giggles again. “Alright. On the topic of strange things… I have a proposition for you.”

“I already don’t like where this is going,” I huff.

She steps over, gazing up at me with her teal eyes sparkling, and I can just tell she’s up to no good.

“A few of my fans have been sort of begging for something…” she starts, keeping her voice down, I’m guessing so that the others don’t overhear, though they’re all currently in the kitchen plowing through the pizzas we ordered. “They’ve been in my DMs for weeks now, and I think if I could make it happen, it would mean some serious dead prezzies.”

I squint down at her wide-eyed expression of excitement. “Okay…”

“So, you know how we were talking about pay-per-view? Creators offering exclusive content for a higher price, aside from the subscription?” She tilts her head.

“Yea…” I mumble, wondering where she’s going with this.

“Well, I’ve gotten dozens of DMs asking me to do a threesome video… With two guys,” she hums casually, her lips quirking into a devilish little smirk.

Okay. There it is… Where she’s going with it.

“Mhm…” I suppress a grin. “And you want me to be one of the guys.”

Her smile widens, and she pokes me on the nose. “And they say you’re not smart.”

My brow furrows. “Who says I’m not smart??”

“I was thinking of filming it on Halloween.” She ignores me, clapping her hands together. “I’ll charge a one-time fee for my fans who want to see it, and then I’ll split the profits with my collaborators…”

“Uh, Frankie, I think you’re missing something here,” I cut in. “I’m only one guy. You would still need another one.”

“I can find someone.” She shrugs indifferently.

“But you can’t just ask any dude,” I point out. “They would need to be someone we can trust… Someone who will be discreet about the whole OnlyFans thing.” I pause and shake my head. “Plus, I mean… are we really going to hook up? We’re friends…”

I must be wearing my nerves and reservations all over my face, because she shows me a patronizing smile.

“Avi…” She sighs, taking my hands in hers. “We’ll still be friends… Rich friends.”

I can’t help but laugh. This chick is wild, I’m telling you.

“Okay, aside from that, you still need to find someone who will agree to get naked on camera for a bunch of randos, while also keeping their mouth shut about the whole thing. You and I are used to this by now… Shit, I’m still getting used to it. But bringing someone else into the fold might get complicated.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but we have the world’s biggest motivator…” She rubs her fingers together in the international symbol for… “Money, baby. People will do all kinds of things for money, including keeping their mouths shut. Who knows? If this works out, we could start collaborating on the regular…”

“Yea, but who??” I ask again, because she seems to be counting her eggs before they hatch.

Frankie stops to think for a second, her eyes darting across the room.

But before she can even suggest it, I snap, “Not Zeb.”

She laughs. “Why not?? You know he’d love to hook up with you…” She cocks an eyebrow, and I’m pretending like hell that I don’t feel the flush creeping up my neck.

“Yea, except that he has the biggest mouth in the entire world,” I mutter.

“Maybe not a bad thing.” She winks.

“Not the point,” I sigh. “Plus, he’s as gay as the day is long. He’s not gonna go near your lady parts.”

“Okay, okay, fine. No Zeb.” Her head slants. “What about Micah?”

“Micah is straight,” I hum, and her gaze narrows.

“So are you…” Her lips curl, making her look even more evil, and now I’m burning up under my clothes.

“Yea… No shit.” I clear my throat. “But I just mean, he’s not going to want to… I don’t think he would…”

“You’re precious.” She runs her fingers through my hair before I smack her hand away, and she chuckles. “Just because there are two guys, doesn’t mean you need to hook up with each other. It could be more of a… centralized effort.”

“Meaning, we’d cater to you,” I sneer.

She fakes fluffing her hair. “Exactly.” I have to laugh some more. “Although, I think some of my fans would like to see it go down another way…”

My mind is beginning to wander, wading through the waist-high waters of what she’s suggesting. Yes, ever since I started my OnlyFans, I’ve been pondering… contemplating the idea of maybe interacting sexually with a member of my shared gender. But like with the account itself, I’ve felt the need to warm up to it.

Maybe having a threesome with Frankie and another guy could do that…

Just being near another dude while fooling around might be the perfect gateway to explore this newfound curiosity. To see if it’s even something I’d enjoy. Who knows? Maybe seeing a dick that isn’t my own right next to me in real life will be a turn-off, and then I could put this whole incessant wondering thing to sleep on the couch.

“I can tell by the way you’re staring off into space that you’re considering it, which I’ll take to mean you’re in.” Frankie’s raspy voice cuts into my thoughts.

Giving up the tepid fight, I sigh and shrug. “Fine. I’m in.” She squeals and jumps up and down, hugging onto me and shimmying us both around. “But just this one time! I don’t want to ruin our amazing friendship by adding sex and business, the two things that are known to ruin friendships.”

“Yes, yes. Fine.” She nods while releasing me, clearly trying to stifle her zeal. “Totally. It’ll just be a fun, one-time thing to make us some serious cash money, bay-bay!” she snickers while I roll my eyes, crushing my own smile.

“How are we going to locate a third member of this ridiculous little excursion…?” I mumble hopelessly.

“Simple, my dear boy.” Frankie grins. “All we need to do is find someone who needs money, and whose best interest would be in keeping this whole thing a secret.”

“Oh, that’s all?” I grunt sarcastically.

“Trust me…” She pulls her vape out of her pocket, sucking in a drag, then puffing candy-scented smoke in my face. “Around here? It’ll be easier than you think.”