Oblivious to Gerry’s attempts to glare her down, Angie’s acidic tone did its best to cut her eldest brother down to size. “He’s bisexual, duh. Which, if you know anything at all, is the true sexual predisposition of all creatures. God, you are so nowhere!”
Gerry’s stomach rolled. He gritted his teeth. He brushed his hair.
“No, Angie dear.” Cliff smiled and cuffed the top of Angie’s head hard enough to make her hiss and grab at the barrette that kept her long straight hair off her face. “He’s a faggot. He just says he’s bisexual to make sure his female fans keep buying his albums.” He sauntered into the bathroom, doing everything possible to try and lock up his gaze with Gerry’s. “He really likes the boys, doesn’t he, Ger?” He dropped an arm over Gerry’s shoulder and sneered at Gerry’s reflection. “You know, right? What I’m talking about? The kind of boy that’s tickled pink to take a nice hard prick up their—”
“Clifford, that is enough!”