“In other words, never tell someone they’re brainless when I’m using my knack.”

“No,” Lon corrected. “Never use it in anger.”

“Or carelessly,” I added.

“Just don’t use it at all,” Lon said gruffly.

Jupe grimaced. “I’m actually okay with that. But I do have one request.”

“What’s that?” Lon asked.

“Let’s forget about buying a boat.”

“Forgotten.”

Jupe stuck his head between our seats. “Instead, I think we should bring the water to us. How ’bout a swimming pool in the backyard? You know, like Jack’s? An infinity pool.”

“Not a chance,” Lon said.

“Hot tub?”

“How about we just go home, light a fire in the fireplace, and watch a movie?” I said.

“Wine,” Lon added. “Lots and lots of wine.”

Jupe raised his hand. “Only if I can pick the movie.”

“Fine,” I said, reaching back to twine my fingers around his. “Which movie?”

“It’s an Italian horror flick from 1973. It’s about a photographer who falls under the spell of a witch.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Sounds familiar,” Lon said, darting his eyes toward mine.

“What’s it called?” I asked.

“Baba Yaga,” Jupe said with a grin.

I groaned as Lon slowly shook his head at Jupe in the rearview mirror. “I should’ve sold you to the Russians when I had the chance.”