Lucy was a time bomb. She was always ready to blow.
She knew it. We knew it. She knew that we knew it. We knew that she knew we knew, etc.
Her mother was a go-go dancer and her father was a Saudi prince with his own private jet plane and a shade of desert sand named after him. Or maybe he was just an oil baron… I forget the details exactly, but either way, Daddy was somebody with enough money on hand to buy a go-go dancer for the night.
And on the day Luce was born, her mother stamped an expiration date on her and she whispered in her ear, “Tag, you’re it.” So Lucy was a time bomb from day one. She was always ready to blow.