Nick laughed. I’d heard him laugh like that before. A big old honk of a laugh, it usually
permeated his mouth if someone got hit especially hard during prison ball. If they were out of shape or wearing glasses
he really made a noise.
He looked at me, his mouth
shut, almost a sneer.
“It really is all about
you, isn’t it, McCall?”
I held his eye. He made a little ‘puh’ sound with his lips.
“Let me clue you in,
ok? Just because my brother liked your
sister, doesn’t mean I give two-“ he lowered his voice in case Pat had an ear
out “-wet and bloody fucking farts-“ holding my eye and waiting a moment before going back to his normal speaking voice “-about your crummy movie-star sister. I know.
You have tunnel vision. It’s
difficult to imagine that anyone that lives in this town doesn’t think about anything
other than the fact that the great and awesome Maddy McCall comes from here.”
We were getting near his
stop.
“That’s not what I think,”
I said.
Lucid
cover sketch courtesy Jenny
Dayton.
Or
- if you're feeling like a Moneybags - only $.99 at
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