“That’s a good one,” he says. He’s lying. Or probably is. Or at least, he should be. That was terrible. About as funny as a Jehovah’s Witness. Actually, no. Those guys can be really funny. Especially if you invite them in and try to convert them to Wicca. I keep the books near my door just in case. It really freaks them out.
“And how about Johnny there?”
“I can’t respect a man who calls himself Johnny,” I say, “Unless his last name is Depp.”
“Or Cash.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Did you read any of his books?”
“I thought he made music? His cover of Hurt was almost perverse.”
He laughs. I think I caught him off guard. Just gotta keep doing that, Kylie. Stick and move, stick and move. And—other boxing metaphors.
“I mean Johnny from the panel. Did you read his books?”