“I’M TOTALLY SERIOUS,” I say to Matt and Coop. “Her brother is tracking down their deadbeat dad using his Navy SEAL skills. He’s got an entire WarGames setup in his bedroom. Files, maps, video monitors. He showed me the whole thing. It’s insane.”

The three of us are setting up my family room for our casting session. We’ve corralled all of my pets into the other rooms, and now we’re busy putting out snacks and drinks, picking up stray tufts of dog, cat, and ferret hair, and moving furniture around to create an audition space. Luckily, the house is all ours today. Cathy’s working this afternoon, and I managed to convince Mom and Dad to go baby-clothes shopping by telling them we needed privacy to rehearse some stuff for Drama.

“That’s fucked up, dawg,” Coop says, unwrapping Twinkies and Ding Dongs and laying them out neatly on a plate. “The SEALS are like the ninjas of the military.”

Matt lines up cans of soda on the coffee table. “What’s he gonna do when he finds him?”

“He’s a Navy SEAL, Matt,” Coop says. “They’re trained in torture. They like to hook guys’ meats up to car batteries and then douse them with water.” He grabs a Twinkie at one end and shakes it until it crumbles apart.

“Oh, God,” I say, my own junk turtling up inside me.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” Coop continues. “They’ll also tie a dude’s hands to the arms of a chair and drive bamboo splints under his fingernails. Then they’ll punch holes in his eyelids so he can never really close them. After that, they’ll put a scorpion-filled potato sack over his head so that the bugs can sting the shit out of his eyeballs.”

“Jesus Christ, would you shut the hell up?” My stomach bucks and lurches.

“What?” Coop shrugs. “I’m just trying to let you know what you’re up against.”

“I know what I’m up against, thank you very much.” I pour some Cool Ranch Doritos into a plastic bowl. “The guy’s a complete psycho. He showed me his gun, for shit’s sake.”

“Really?” Coop waggles his eyebrows. “Flashed you the old pants pistol, did he?”

“A real gun, douche bag. He took the clip out, handed it to me, and made me aim it at the eighty-by-ten of his father that he has tacked up on a dartboard.”

“Sweet,” Coop says. “I’ve always wanted to hold a real gun. How’d it feel?”

“How did it feel?” I can still sense the heft of the pistol in the palm of my hand. “Like he was sending me a message: ‘Stay with Evelyn and we’re bosom brothers. But break up with her and all bets are off.’”

Coop shrugs. “Personally, I think everything happens for a reason.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I say.

“It means that if you broke up with Evelyn, then we wouldn’t have use of her super-chillicious video camera. And then we’d have to blow Unc’s entire grand on equipment instead of splashing all that cash up on the screen. Think of it as an opportunity presented. You play house with Evelyn for a couple of months while we make a kick-ass movie. Then, when we’re all done, we figure out a way to get her to break up with you. It shouldn’t be too hard. What’d you do to make Tianna dump your sorry ass?”

I glare at him but otherwise ignore his comment. “There’s one other thing,” I confess. “She wants to be in the film. And not just a cameo. She wants to be the lead.”

Coop lip-farts. “Fine with me. If girlie wants to run around all topless, her chesticles splattered in fake blood, being chased everywhere by vampanzees, far be it from me to stop her. It’s one less warm body we need to recruit.”

“I seriously doubt she’s going to agree to do nudity,” I say.

“Please.” Coop smirks. “Leave the directing to me.” He turns the soda cans around, reading the labels. “Hey, didn’t you get anything diet?”

Matt shrugs. “The girls’ll just have to make do.”

“Not for the babes, doinkle,” Coop says. “For me.”

Matt laughs. “Since when do you drink diet?”

“Since we decided to become multimillionaire moviemakers. Cameras add ten pounds, dawg. Everyone knows that. I don’t want be on the cover of the National Enquirer as a ‘Cellulite Nightmare’ or a ‘Sloppy Celebrity.’” Coop reaches into his backpack and takes out a pink bottle of something. “Good thing I brought along my own sensible shake.”

“So, what, you’ve joined”— Matt tilts his head to read the label —“Sally Gregg? A little girly don’tcha think?”

“This from the talking vagina,” Coop says. “If you must know, I borrowed this from Angela.” He waves the shake in Matt’s face. “She’s paying for the diet program. I’m just benefiting from it.” He turns and narrows his eyes at me. “Because I know how to take advantage of an opportunity when I see it. Which is what all the most successful people do.” He uncaps the drink with a loud pop.

“Enjoy that.” Matt stifles a laugh before grabbing a handful of chips.

“Chuckle away, dawgs,” Coop says. “Just wait until you catch sight of the sleeker, sexier Coopmeister on the cover of Details.” He runs his hands down his rounded body. “Then we’ll see who’s all green and grudging.” For emphasis, Coop takes a sip of his shake — leaving a decidedly unsexy pink mustache on his upper lip.

“Hello?” a female voice calls from the front door. “Is this where the casting session is?”

“In here, honey,” Coop responds.

I look over at Matt and point at my lip but he shakes his head in response to my silent question.

A moment later, Prudence Nash rounds the corner, looking hotter than any girl should legally be allowed to. She’s wearing high heels and a form-fitting charcoal-gray sweater dress that expertly hugs every curve of her bodacious body, magically highlighting her world-class, perfectly pert pooters.

“Oh . . . my,” I hear myself mutter, my heart skipping a beat.

Matt’s jaw hangs open as he backs himself into the couch and flops down onto it.

If it were actually true that excessive masturbation can lead to madness, then Prudence Nash would have sent me over the edge years ago. But as that’s just a myth, all I can blame her for is the occasional sore wrist.

Well, that and being our toughest competition at the Battle of the Bands.

Oh, right, and single-handedly trying to destroy Helen’s reputation at school.

It’s odd how she can manage to make you forget how truly evil she is simply by flipping her long hair and canting her totem-pole-inducing hips.

Prudence’s lusciously made-up face scrunches up in disgust. Clearly she’s not quite as pleased by the sight of us. “Are you fucking kidding me? You wankjobs?”

“Nice to see you too, Prudence,” Coop says.

Prudence narrows her eyes. “I thought this was a movie audition, not a retard convention.”

“It is a movie audition,” Coop says, checking his phone. “You’re a little early, babe, but I suppose we can squeeze you in.” He’s acting all confident and producery, but his bravado is completely undermined by the strawberry milk shake mustache he’s sporting.

“Thanks, but no, thanks.” Prudence turns on her heel and starts to leave.

“Hey, hey, come on, now,” Coop says. “No need to let the past get in the way of our possible future. You’ve come all this way. Why not show us what you’ve got?”

I can’t believe Coop thinks this is a good idea. Prudence is Helen’s mortal nemesis. The girl who started all the hot-dog rumors back in eighth grade. Matt and I look at him like he’s nuts, but he doesn’t even acknowledge us.

Prudence whips around and smirks, like she’s just read my mind. “Audition? For you? Really? And how’s your little girlfriend going to feel about that?”

Coop sits in the armchair and leans back, acting oh-so-chill. “Business is business, sweetheart. I think we can agree that we want to do what’s best for the movie.” He glances at us, the streak of pink pastel drying and cracking under his nose. “We’re all professionals here.”

Prudence laughs. “Yeah, you’re looking like a real pro there, Milkstache.” She taps her lip.

Coop quickly swipes at his mouth and stares down at the pink smear on his hand. He turns and glares at me and Matt accusingly. “Nice,” he mutters. “I’ll remember this.” Coop’s pissed-off expression shifts like smoke as he turns back and smiles at Prudence. “So, you’ve done some acting before?”

“Oh, sure.” She gives him the slow burn. “In fact, I’m acting right now. Like I don’t want to scratch your eyes out.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m buying your performance.” Coop leans forward, pressing his palms together. “Still, we might be able to use you. Tell me this. What are your thoughts on nudity?”

“I wouldn’t get naked for you for a million dollars,” Prudence snaps.

“Fair enough.” Coop nods. “How about for free, then?”

“Die, reject.” Prudence flips us off and storms out of the room.

A second later, I hear my front door slam.

“That went well,” Coop says.

I shake my head. “I can’t believe you were actually considering giving her a part.”

He laughs. “I wasn’t, asscup. I was just playing with her.” He shrugs. “Still, if she was willing to give us a little show before I turned her down, I wasn’t going to stop her.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Real classy, there, Coop.”

“Oh, yeah?” Coop stares at Matt. “I’ll show you classy.” He dives on Matt and pins him to the couch. Before Matt can squirm away, Coop sits right on his head. “Payback is a dirty little whore, Matthew.”

Matt’s face is all squished up and red, his lips puckered like a fish. “Get the hell off me,” he gripes, his voice muffled by Coop’s ass.

“Just one second.” Coop scrunches up his eyes, then lets go with a surprisingly loud sputtering pants blaster, which makes me totally lose it.

“Goddamn it!” Matt heaves Coop off of him and leaps up, rubbing at his face like crazy. “You’re such a dick. You’re going to pay for that.”

“Umm,” Coop says, stumbling away, “I may have already paid for it.” He grabs the back of his jeans. “I think there might have been some fudge in that fart.” He laughs hysterically. “Which means you may have gotten a little extra sumpin’-sumpin’, there, Mattie.”

Matt looks totally pissed. He shoots Coop a sky-high finger salute, which just makes me crack up even more.

“Hold that thought,” Coop says. “I’ll be right back.” He quickly shuffles off toward the bathroom, his hand clenching the back of his pants.

My stomach hurts, I’m laughing so hard. Tears trickle out of my squeezed-shut eyes.

Even Matt can’t help himself as he starts busting up too.

A minute later, Coop emerges from the bathroom smiling. “False alarm, dawgs.” He gives us two thumbs-up. “We’re all clear on the launchpad.”

“What’s going on here?”

The three of us whip our heads around to see Helen and Valerie standing there, both of them looking seriously pissed, their arms crossed over their chests.

“Just getting ready for the casting session,” Coop says, back in producer mode.

“Really?” Helen narrows her eyes. “So why did we just pass Prudence Nash in the driveway?”

Valerie glowers at Matt. “Was she helping you guys ‘get ready’?”

There have been many times over the years when I have been seriously jealous of Coop and Matt.

But this is definitely not one of those times.