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“Dream’s having a party this weekend, and I need you to take me there and maybe chaperone a little.”
George raises an eyebrow. “Chaperone? You’re joking.”
“Not joking. It’s not going to be, like, an absolute rager or anything. Just us and a few of his other smoking buddies. Probably going to get crossfaded though, so I’m gonna need you to be there to drive me home from Dream’s house.”
“Dream? What kind of a name is Dream, who does this guy think he is? You start selling drugs and now you’re suddenly El Chapo?”