“Gotta admit, I wasn’t committed to the task,” Ryker confessed. “But for a bitch in a tight tee with a great rack who makes twelve layer cakes and likes drunk sex, I’ll step it up,” he offered.”

“Fuck me, shut the fuck up,” Cal entered the conversation, glaring at both Ryker and Devin. “Caked. Jesus. Seriously? Are we talkin’ about cakes?”

“Bitch your tee is the shit.”“Don't call Mace's Mom a bitch.”

“If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.”

“Easy as cake.""Pie.""Yeah. I can't make pie. My cousin got all the baking genes, but if it comes out of a box and has very detailed instructions, I can make an edible cake. Cake is easy. Pie's a bitch.”

“A great nation is like a great man:When he makes a mistake, he realizes it.Having realized it, he admits it.Having admitted it, he corrects it.He considers those who point out his faultsas his most benevolent teachers.He thinks of his enemyas the shadow that he himself casts.”