A shirt was tugged over Justin's head next and he gave a shrug as he raked a hand through his hair. "It's better than the alternative at this point. Claudia and her folks? Pure nightmares those one. Paris was more worth the trouble, and you know what a piece of work she was."

Moving the tiny kitchenette, he waved Phil to one of the mismatched chairs that perched next to a wobbly wooden table and yanked a couple of beers from the fridge setting one down in front of .

"It's only for while anyhow," he claimed. "Just until I get a few things...set into motion. Take money from my father, I have to get married to the bitch tomorrow. This," he gestured with his open beer at the tiny studio, "is the alternative. Ask me, it's a much better one."