Like the Israeli Army, Roxy DeVille responds with overwhelming force.
We were in a rental home decorated, in the way some porn rental locations are, ostentatiously and without purpose. Giant sculpted urns stood empty, wires poked from the walls, and the zesty Roxy DeVille sat in a room full of uncomfortable couches during a break from Holly Randall’s photo session.
“I’ve got to get some really hard, painful couches for my place,” DeVille said. “You come over my house, you’re taking your pants off and putting on sweats, then jumping into bed and watching TV or playing Battleship or something. But the person who overstays his welcome and wants to sleep over? They get the bad couch.”
“Who hurt you, Roxy DeVille?” I asked. “Who was such a bad guest that you are going to populate your home with painful furniture just so that never happens again?”
“It only happened once,” she said.
Later, DeVille stepped all over Teagan, but that is a story for later.
Previously: Roxy DeVille alive, happy, not dead, bloody
See also: Holly Randall
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